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.

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...

Owning Our Stories

Blogging isn't always easy for me. Often times I worry about how my words will be perceived when I hit that orange "publish" button.

Owning who I am right now is scary because who I am right now is messy.

I've seen the blogs where everything seems picture perfect and many times, I've later found out that things weren't picture perfect. I try to make sure I'm not just showing you 'picture perfect' but I also don't want you to think that it's all bad or that I am always struggling.

It's a rollercoaster.

I'm currently experiencing an emotional hangover from The Togetherness Project, which was held in Phoenix over the weekend.
I felt a lot of feels this weekend. Some were highs but a lot were extreme lows. It's hard to trust life the way it currently is. It's hard to spend a weekend with friends while feeling guilty for leaving my kids after a busy week where I hardly spent time with them. Balance has been tricky and it's incredibly exhausting.

The classes at Togetherness were my favorite by far. The day was long but I was able to hear some pretty remarkable people teach and tell their stories.

I was able to meet some out of town friends that I had only cultivated a relationship with online. They came from all around, including Kansas and Alaska. Although I already knew I loved them, meeting them in person cemented those feelings much deeper. Togetherness is an interesting world. It is a place made up of women who live all different lifestyles but understand and empathize with each other. It doesn't matter what religion you are, where you live, or how you dress---Togetherness blends us all together to create an amazing group of warriors.

Enduring the addiction of a loved one is painful and hard. Often times you feel alone. You lose hope and feel discouraged that life will never get better. You may try and rescue your loved one or cut yourself off from them but no matter how you deal with it, you experience heartache.

A few years ago, this was me. I didn't even understand my feelings of anxiety back then. I didn't know why I always felt unstable in my seemingly stable marriage. It took years for all of the pieces to fall into place and when they did, I felt so alone and rejected and terrified of what the future would hold.

Togetherness changed that. I was suddenly meeting women who understood my fears and I was able to provide support for others who had felt alone.

It was beautiful. It is beautiful. 

As I fight through the despair that tries to grip my heart and diminish my faith, I am reminded that I am not alone. I am reminded that people love me. They love the things that I hate about myself. They stick around even when I struggle to believe that I am worthy of them. They are my heroes, my sisters, and my friends.

And in my life, I am blessed that they are not only the people I've met this past year. They are childhood friends and church members and neighbors and family. They surround me and pick me up when I fall to the ground.

I am truly scared of how my life will turn out. I am angry and insecure and my life feels unstable---but during these times when owning my story means telling you it's really hard, I also need to own the part where others pick up my slack. I also have to include the many times I've found others loving my children and giving them the attention that I can't always give or the people who have pulled weeds or helped with the housework I find myself struggling to accomplish.

Although I am struggling to love myself, I am so very loved. I am so very wanted on this earth and when I repeat that over and over again, it helps me to get through these times when I don't feel like I'm worthy of life.

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

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. 

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.

Happy Birthday to Me

 "There's no one alive who is youer than you."

A month ago, I was trying to come up with ideas for my birthday post. I wanted something different and more vulnerable than the things I normally post---and might I add that I feel like I post a decent amount of vulnerability here.

When I woke up that morning, the only thing that seemed to fit was to thank God that I have been allowed 27 years of learning and growing on this earth. Whether 27 sounds old or young to you, it is such beautiful thing that 27 has brought me to this particular point in my life.

With 27 years of bravery under my belt, I realize just how many incredible things I can do.

A few months ago, I was working hard to get my ariel. I know, weird, right? I used to be able to tumble back and forth but never in my life had I successfully done an ariel. I decided 27 is going to be the year. So there you have it. Sometime this year, I'm going to be able to do an ariel. Impossible is not really a word I believe in.

Twenty-six was a huge testing year for me and I'm ok with that. Without this past year, I wouldn't be the Suzanne that I am.

Although there has been pain, I have gained confidence in my ability to be a single mother, a working mom, a student, and a good person. I am proud of who I am. I am proud of the things I have done.

I've hated myself a lot of this year. I remember days where looking in the mirror and seeing any kind of beauty seemed impossible. I remember thinking I'd never love myself or be loved again. I remember looking at my stretch marks and all of my imperfections from having kids and wondering how anyone would choose to marry someone like me.

But this year, I've learned that whoever ends up with me will be lucky because I have worth. For every negative thing that can be said about me, there are ten positive things to counteract it. I have the ability to love and be loved. I was a good wife. I will be a good wife again someday.

I am doing the very best that I can and that's what matters.

The other day, I was at the doctor's office and I had to be weighed. You guys, I was panicking! I have not weighed myself since I started eating disorder recovery because I'm working so hard to see my worth without a number attached.
Anyway, I saw my weight. Hmm. Ten pounds heavier than a few months ago.
A few months ago, that would've sent me into a spiral. But a few days ago, it didn't. Instead, I was grateful. I was grateful what that ten pounds represented. It represents strength and recovery and health and happiness. It represents becoming whole again.
I was surprised at my own reaction. I was surprised that any amount of compassion was able to be focused from me to me.

I was able to see straight through that number and find beauty. I was able to love the person that I am right now instead of panicking and wanting to change everything about her.

I'm a warrior. I've said that a lot this year. Sometimes I've believed it and sometimes I've said it because I wanted to believe it.
Today I believe it.

Instead of fearing the future, I plan on punching fear in the face and showing life what I'm made of.

So for my birthday post---a month late---I wanted to share a side of me that you may not see very often. I love music. In fact, music is definitely in the Top 5 of things that helped me through divorce. So many times I would be driving and crying and a song would come on the radio that comforted me and reminded me that I am going to make it.

In some of my darkest hours, the place where I turned for peace remained the same.

I Am Here

I am here.This is exactly where I am.
Right here.

I've been thinking a lot the past few days. I do that sometimes---think. I am nearing my year mark of living on my own.
A whole year.
I kind of can't believe it but at the same time, it feels like it's been longer. It depends on the day.

In this year I have slept in my bed alone, not had help with baths/bedtime 75% of the time, made grown up decisions on my own, finished two semesters of school, juggled friend time and kid time and now 'single people' time, been the "room mom" at Petey's school, taken my kids to extracurriculars, taken trips by myself with the kids, and I've even gone on a few dates.
Divorce life is weird. It just is. It's hard and weird and messy and I'm still figuring out how I should navigate this new life between kids and being single and my many, many married friends. It's tricky a lot of the time.

I've gotten more babysitters in the past year than all of the previous six years combined. I'm so grateful for all of the help and the prayers and the late night talks. A whole year has gone by and I still feel surrounded and supported by the people who love and my children.

I felt a strong impression to start writing this blog back in 2009, right after my son was born. At the time, my post-partum depression was pretty rough and I needed an outlet. But most of my posts were crap. Most of them weren't real.

I wanted so badly to write about real things the first 2.5 years my blog existed. But I wasn't brave enough to share my life.
Then infertility happened. I needed this outlet. I needed to write my feelings about what was happening and I wondered if others needed to hear it as well.
Judging from the comments and the emails, they did. People related to my words. I learned a lot of stories from a lot of people that came from all different walks of life.

Since then, I've decided to keep my blog as real as I can. Although not everything is blog appropriate, a lot of the things I'm passionate about are. Everytime I write, I put effort into my words.

But along with being so real, I take some risks.
Any person can come here and see that:
I am divorced. I am passionately against pornography. I have two kids. I have an eating disorder. I'm kind of crazy.
{Although that last one isn't proven...}
One of the hardest parts of having a blog is that everyone gets to know about you before you get to know anything about them. It's something I choose everytime I push publish.
I know it's a risk. I know a lot of the people that read my blog don't personally know me. I can't force you to trust me or believe in what I am saying. Many of you won't and that's ok with me. But this is my side of the story. It is a story I get to share whenever I want because it is mine. I do hope that when you read, you see a little piece of my heart. I hope you see that I am a genuine person.

Because I haven't quite decided if you knowing so much about me without me trusting/knowing you is a good thing. I still feel like it's right to be doing this and putting my words out there for everyone to read but that doesn't always make it easy. It is still scary a lot of the time. I still think long and hard before submitting my posts and sharing them on Facebook.

Because this is my real life, people. These are my ups and downs, my good and my bad, my faith and my fear. These stories aren't made up. They happen in my life. The emotions I write about are real emotions.

I am scared every time I come on here but I am also brave. I feel like this is one of my callings in life. I don't see a point in trials if I don't turn around and help someone overcome their trial through my empathy and understanding. I come here to help sort out my thoughts but also to help you, maybe just one of you. It's ok with me if it's just one of you. I am here to show you that you are not alone.

That is a truth that I know without a doubt.

You are not alone.

You Would Never Know

I'm going to try really hard to be more open with you today because for some reason, I get the feeling that someone needs it. Maybe that someone is me, maybe that someone is you...

Everyone has a story. Everyone has a background and a childhood and unique experiences.
No two stories are exactly alike.

It is so easy to judge. It is so easy to look a person up and down and think we know everything we need to know about them to make perfect assumptions about their life.

Have you ever seen the kid at the restaurant that is so extremely obnoxious that you wonder why the heck their parents brought them out in public? Did you find yourself judging this child's parents? Did you find yourself judging the child? If you knew this child's story, would you feel differently about this situation? What if this child was autistic? What if this child was being bullied at school and was insecure? What if this child's parents were going through a divorce?

You would never know, would you? And yet, a lot of times, we still judge.

When I was first faced with the prospect of divorce, one of my main worries was judgment. I felt like I had this neon sign flashing on me at all times that said, "I am divorced" or "I am proving the statistic".

I failed. I failed so badly at something that I should've succeeded at.
I blamed myself for marrying way too young. I blamed myself for ignoring red flags. And I was extremely scared for how I would be perceived as a divorced mother of 2.

A month or so ago, I found out some pretty devastating news about my marriage---news that would rock anyone's world. It was during this time that I started struggling even more and wondering how in the hell I was going to get past this. I worried about what other's would think if they knew the truth. Would this create a paradigm shift for my story? Because certainly this caused me to feel like the victim all over again. He lied. He made horrible decisions. He left because he chose other things over me. I was really angry.

A huge part of me wanted to shout from the rooftops what was going on because I have already been faced with ridicule from others for my divorce. I have already experienced the judgment and I have had people place the blame solely on me for my failed marriage. I thought, "If only they knew..." and I wanted them to. I wanted them to see my side. I wanted them to understand.

But I was worried they would judge---not necessarily judge me but maybe judge him? Or maybe judge the situation unfairly? I was just so worried about judgment.

And I'm really freaking sick of worrying about judgment.

I am so sick of  giving "judgment" so much credibility in my life.

So today, I am going to level with you a little bit. I am here to tell you that although I am not perfect, I know I couldn't have saved my marriage on my own. I am here to tell you that if you are feeling alone right now, I have two perfectly good ears to hear your story. I want you to know that the world cannot determine how we perceive our story---we are the only ones who get to decide.

I look at my story and a lot of the time, I get discouraged and think, "Well my story sucks." but so many beautiful things are a part of my story. My story has forced me to utilize my New Years resolution of bravery. My story has given me the strength to fight so many evils in our world. My story has granted me opportunities to meet some of the most amazing people I've ever been privileged to be around.

Although so many parts of my story come with heartbreak and betrayal, my story is worth it.



*I've thought a lot about switching over to a new blog for our family because there are a lot of posts on here that are really painful for me and I feel like I need a fresh start. I haven't quite decided what I'm going to do or how I'm going to do this but if it happens, you will be the first---or second---to know.

They're Gone and I'm Rambling

I have half a post written that I'm really proud of but it just didn't feel right to finish up right now. Instead, I'll start a new post and revisit that one later.

They left yesterday. My children are with their dad until Christmas afternoon and so far, I've handled it well. No tears---surprisingly. Most of this 'holding it together' can be attributed to the world's best friends. I had plans last night, this morning, and again tonight. I think Monday is when it will get harder. That and at nighttime.

In my journal, I often ask a million questions. How? Why? I'm still accepting this as normal life. I'm not there yet but I'm doing surprisingly well, all things considered.

I've decided I'm as happy as I'm going to get this weekend. There is still a lot of sadness because my children are my life but their dad is a good dad and they've been missing him lately. It's good for them---it just sucks for me.
I feel guilty having a relaxing weekend. I'm a 24/7 mom. This isn't supposed to be happening. I'm supposed to be knee high in laundry, dishes, potty breaks, messes, and tantrums. Instead, a friend took me to the spa this morning and I'm watching a chick flick with another friend tonight. Am I supposed to enjoy these nights? I guess I know what the answer is but for some reason, I still feel guilty.

As much as I don't like it, being alone is good for me. I love my friends, I love my family, but I have so much quiet time to come closer to God and focus on what Christmas is all about. Sometimes, the toughest things help us grow the most.

Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope to get that other post up soon but we'll see how I'm feeling about finishing it. :)

I Believe in Me

Tonight must be emotional, for some reason. I turned on the computer and this image smacked me in the face with it's imperfect perfection.

I cried.
I love that it's the background of our computer. What I love even more is that they are mine for eternity.

After turning the computer on, I signed in to my school account to check on my grades. My English teacher had sent me back an essay that I thought I was struggling with and her words were so positive and encouraging. I started to cry again. She corrected two words and that was it. The rest was great in her eyes.

The thing is, school scares me. I'm a semester in and I feel like I've rocked this semester but there are 11 more semesters before I get to have my career. And I can assume that they will not all be this easy.

The thought of my classes getting harder scares me.
But the thought of dropping out of school terrifies me.
I'm where I need to be.
I need to believe in me.

I'm staring my fears down daily. The fear of failure weighs on my mind but it's a battle I have to endure so I can reach my end goal.

My goals might seem farther out there than a single mom of two can reach but I'm just going to have to show the world that it can be mastered. I'm not picking the easy way out. A bachelors and a masters degree are not the easy way out. Building up my own clients so I can have flexible work hours is not going to be the easy way out. It's going to be challenging most of the time for a long time but it will be so worth it.

I'm determined not to fail. I don't want to be that story. I don't want to lose my ambition. I want to succeed.

Succeed, I can and succeed, I will.

The Story of My Life

 So last night, I watched the American Music Awards and though I have plenty of commentary on the things I saw and heard {Seriously, Miley?!}, I've had the song, 'The Story of My Life' from One Direction stuck in my head since then.

And in all honesty, I can only remember those 5 words out of the entire song because last night is the first time I'd heard it.

So the phrase 'The story of my life" has played over and over again in my head.
Let's ponder that phrase for a minute, shall we?

I just love that picture of Spidey. It seems like the perfect pondering picture.

The story of my life. Do you use that phrase as often as I do?
When the kids are being absolutely nuts? Story of my life!
When the house is a mess five minutes after cleaning it up? Story of my life!
When I plan to be somewhere on time and it takes me 20 minutes to wait for the kids to get their shoes on? Story of my life!
I seem to use this phrase a lot. In fact, I have another picture that epitomizes that phrase.

 This really is the story of my life!
Petey and her little dancing body are always posing but not always paying attention.
Spidey is usually playing in the dirt or getting messy in whatever way possible, smirking the whole time because he knows better.
And what can I do? Throw my hands up in the air and proclaim, "This is the story of my life!" and if I can add to that, "This is the story of my life and I love it!". It may not always seem that way but at the end of the day when the kids are sleeping soundly, I can usually look back on the days events and laugh until I fall asleep. That's how awesome this life is.

But sometimes it bothers me how this is just the story of my life on the outside---because on the inside, it is so much more. It is heartache and pain, laughter and sarcasm, hard work and weight gain.

So many things define who I am.

The story of my life was once a rebellious, problematic little girl. I wanted to change that and so I did.

The story of my life was once a liar and a judger. I wanted to change that and for the most part, I have.

The story of my life was once a selfish, disrespectful teenager. I wanted to change that and I certainly hope I have!

The point is, my story is ever changing.
I don't have to be that girl that had 2 kids and then spent two years dwelling on the fact that she couldn't have a third. I don't have to be that girl that was rude before she thought about what she was saying, resulting in hurt feelings and hurt friendships. I don't have to be labeled as a divorcee or one of the halves of a failed marriage. I don't have to be any girl I don't want to be!

There is so much more to me than any of those things! Often times, it feels like my life will never get better or things will even get worse than they are. It seems like I'll always have labels I don't want to have.
But the truth is, I get to choose who I am. I can be sad or angry that I am going to be single or I can do everything I can to make life as great as it can be. I can talk rudely about Boss or I can try and understand him and realize his life isn't a walk in the park either.
I can have any perspective I want and that perspective defines who I am and what I am about.

My perspective of the things life hands me is something I am 100% in charge of.

We all have choices. Some are easy, some are hard, but all have results and we get to choose those results and how we handle those results.

 So today, the story of my life happens to be filled with children who whined about cleaning their rooms but finally relented because they really wanted to get the Christmas decorations out.

The story of my life is school; hard work, lots of homework, and a couple of finals.

The story of my life is happiness; because my life is filled with things that have the potential to help me choose to be happy. Notice I didn't say 'make me happy'. I love that my happiness is a choice and that I can control it.

My family is beautiful.

I am beautiful.

The story of my life is beautiful.

The Truth: I'm Not Worthless

 I struggled a lot with self-worth in high school. I always thought I was so fat...

This is me a couple of months after graduating high school and that isn't even a picture of me at my smallest high school weight.

 This is the face I would give if the girl in the above picture told me she was fat. Because she wasn't. And even moreso than that, she's gorgeous.

After getting married, I thought all of that was over. Someone picked me out of every other girl. Someone chose to love me forever and ever. I realized shortly after getting married that marriage doesn't fix everything. In fact, I'd even say marriage makes lots of things harder. I got pregnant and started eating whatever I wanted. I was put on bedrest. I had a c-section. I got pregnant when my baby was 7 months old. I had another c-section. There were so many excuses as to why I wasn't happy with myself.

Then I got diagnosed with infertility. My self worth went completely down the drain for a while. I was so hard on myself. I started thinking that because I had made mistakes in my life, God was punishing me. I told myself I was worthless and often times, thoughts of unworthiness would creep into my mind, telling me I wasn't even a good person anymore. Everything kind of spiraled downward for a while when my husband stopped attending church with our family. I felt completely alone. In counseling, I couldn't pinpoint why I had anxiety and why little things were hard to deal with. It wasn't until recently that I realized I haven't stopped to pat myself on the back in a very long time. I haven't cut myself a break or told myself what a good job I'm doing at living this life I was given.

Throughout these past couple of weeks, I've started to give myself little pep talks and really, truly see all of the good I am doing. I didn't realize how far I had let Satan in. He had convinced me I'm nothing but that isn't true. When it comes to my worth, my size doesn't matter and my faults don't matter. I will always be worth something in God's eyes.

The hardest part of all of this is teaching myself how to love myself more but once I started realizing how much I am worth, I knew that loving every part of myself was the next step. It's a continuation, it isn't just there. I have to continually remind myself to just be nice. When I look in the mirror, don't tear that girl down. When I spend too much time on the computer, don't tell that girl she's a horrible mother. When I forget to cook dinner, don't tell that girl she is a failure as a homemaker. That girl isn't perfect but she's worth something.

In order to teach this little girl how to love herself, I need to set a good example of what that looks like. I need to teach her to see how precious she is in God's eyes by remembering how precious I am in His eyes.

Simplicity

As I mentioned in the previous post, I've had a bit of a set back lately dealing with my PCOS. It's not so much that I am depressed as it is my heart aches right now (It's hard for my husband to tell the difference, especially since depression runs so strongly in my family). I'm sorting through the emotions that come up unexpectedly throughout each day and realizing I CAN DO THIS---but the easiest way to do this is to take it one day at a time. So I try not to think about the what if's and the when's of the children in our life. But I find myself doing it anyway...
Will there only be 2? Will there be 7 (ha!)? Will we have multiples from doing fertility? Will we end up adopting?
I could go on all day long, asking myself what my life is going to be like in the future but honestly, it hasn't done me any good up until this point and will not do me good as I look to the future.
I feel like I'm staring over a cliff and deciding which way I'm going to be saved. Will it be the helicopter or the large trampoline below? I know it's a silly analogy but I feel like there are different ways my life can go from here on out. It can be a scary leap of faith like the trampoline jump or I can be saved by a helicopter and not have to deal with this uneasiness much longer. There are so many things I wish I could just decide right here and now and know how life will work out. So many things in my head keep changing. Like the fact that going through this infertility has actually made me want a larger family again and how after having Petey, I was scared to death of ever having multiples (because she was so hard by herself) and now, it would be such a blessing to get two in one pregnancy. Because now pregnancy is hard and it isn't determined by the way I plan it. And that's scary for me.
So which way do we go? Because I feel stuck in the middle and neither right or left seems to be the right way to head right now. So maybe I'll just decide to stay put until God decides to open up a new path that is right for our family.

Can you believe this is my baby? Lately, I've been getting asked his age a lot because he speaks clear sentences ALL DAY LONG and every time I tell them he is 2, I get asked if he's closer to 2 or to 3 and I have to think about it and realize he'll be 2 1/2 in only 6 more weeks. I know I'm being ridiculous but he is growing up way too fast! The sentences are so, so sweet and he melts my heart but sometimes I panick when I forget what it was like to have a baby in the home. It gives me anxiety to think that I haven't appreciated enough moments with the children I've been blessed with.

So even though I can't get those moments back, I will continue to appreciate the fact that I am a mom and I am very blessed. And when a new path opens up, I'll be standing right there ready to take it.

And that's how Suze rambles.