Broken

This week has been hard.  I don't know if it is just one of those weeks or if my heart and mind are in just the right place to really make things difficult.

I've been writing things down throughout the week that I have discovered about myself.  I have thought about sharing them several times now and have chickened out repeatedly.  Thinking that if I gave it a little more time then maybe it wouldn't leave me so vulnerable when I finally did share it because time would numb it somehow?  I'm not so sure my strategy worked.

In fact, that's one of the things that I learned for certain this week.  I run from things in whatever way I can.  On Tuesday I found myself with 2 whole gloriously free hours.  One child at school, the other in bed, and my husband in meetings outside of the house.  Freedom my friends.  The perfect time to take a look at being authentic and figure some things out.  I headed to my desk, looked at the computer and books that were there waiting to guide me on my journey and picked up a pair of scissors and the tv remote.  I promptly settled in to episodes of One Tree Hill while cutting and sewing quilting squares for that two hours of gloriously free time.  Knowing full well that I was running away from myself.  And the cool things was I totally justified it!  Totally!  These quilt squares were going to be used to make quilts to donate to CAPSA.  A worthy cause.  It it wasn't for CAPSA it would have been for a gift for someone else, or for my son's bed or for anyone but myself because doing things for myself is selfish and unworthy, but doing them for someone else?  Totally noble and worth any sacrifice.

So realization #1:  I don't think that I'm worth spending time on.

I'm not for sure how far this extends.  Just myself? Others? Either way it runs pretty deep.  Which is why I fill my life with so many things for others, or so many chores that need to be done (the to-do list that won't quit!), or responsibilities that I have taken on myself, that it's impossible for my true self to get a word in edgewise.

And let's take a look at that one... true self.  Or rather the fear of letting my true self be known, be seen, be out there.

Somehow I have the impression deeply rooted in my psyche that my true self must be pretty ugly and unlovable because I'm so afraid that if I let all of myself out there I will be weighed and measured and found wanting.  How did that happen?  I don't think that I'm alone in this one.  What has caused me to focus so much on my flaws that I actually believe that I am more bad than good?  Or rather that the few "bad" points/character flaws/personality conflicts/whatever will outweigh any good that ever was in me and people will reject me outright.  "If they knew the real me they would not be my friends anymore."  And the crazy stupid thing is that when you spend enough time around people your flaws leek out automatically anyway and your friends see you for who you are and they still like you.  Even better than before.  Which means my true nature is actually out there but I'm the only one who doesn't know it and the only one who hasn't accepted me for me.

Realization #2: I'm the only one who hasn't accepted me for me.  I'm the one that weighed, measured, and found myself wanting.  I'm the one who can't see my beauty.

There's more.  But this is all I can share right now.  I'm trying not to push myself too much.  I don't want to get burnt out or rush through lessons that need more time to soak in.  And besides that, I'm not quite sure what to do with the realizations yet.  Changing the way one thinks and feels about oneself... well that's no simple task.

Till next time.

I'm Here Because I Asked

There is so much going on in the world today that hurts my head and my heart.  So much hatred coming from so many different places.  Those far away, those near and dear to my heart.  So much misunderstanding and so many conclusions jumped to.  Love and kindness, or hatred and meanness?  Real? Perceived? Misguided?  Uninformed?  I don't know.

The LDS church of which I am a member, has recently made a change in the handbook concerning the ordinances of Blessing (giving a name and a blessing of an infant to be known on the records of the church) and Baptism of children being raised in a same-sex marriage household.  There are many different opinions going around as to the right and wrong of this decision.  My purpose in writing today is not to judge either way.  I am not interested in debating the rights and wrongs, perceived or real, in this change.  I don't have all the information.  I don't know all that went into this decision.  But I do know that it has made facebook explode with conversations about it.

So what is my place?  That is the question that I continually ask myself.  Where do I fit in this mess of religion, politics, and social media?

I first asked myself this question when the whole "pants to church" episode exploded people's minds.  I didn't know all that much about the movement at the time, but I was absolutely appalled at the hatred that showed up.  Women condemning other women for wearing pants to church and vice versa.  It hurt my head and my heart deeply.  The hatred.  And I found myself questioning my faith.  Questioning my belief.  Did I want to be a part of this?  

I sat in church one Sunday pondering these questions.  Pondering whether this church was the place for me.  Women whom I knew and loved were so full of anger on this topic, readily condemning those who were a part of this movement as faithless.  I did not feel the same way.  So where did I fit?  Where did I belong?  What was I to do?

I was in sacrament meeting, sitting on the front row, heart hurting, when I decided to ask.  Not my bishop.  Not my husband.  Not my parents.  Not my friends.  I asked God.  My Heavenly Father.  I said a prayer in my heart and asked Him where he wanted me to be?  I really wanted to know.  Where would He have me be, what would He have me do?  And guess what folks... I got an answer.  Peace descended on my heart and words came to my mind telling me that He would have me here.  In church, partaking of the sacrament and renewing my covenant to always remember Him, to follow Him, to keep His commandments.  I felt very strongly that I was right where the Lord wanted me to be, doing what He wanted me to do.  Which is strive to be like him. To learn his ways and practice loving like he does.

Practice. Loving.

Keep trying.  Keep learning.  Keep loving.  Keep going.

I do not have all the answers.  I don't think I'm ready for all the answers.  Living the gospel is given to us line upon line, precept upon precept.  Milk before meat. (Isaiah 28:9-10)  The lesser law (the law of Moses) was given before the higher law when the sacrifice and resurrection of Christ fulfilled the law of Moses.    Men were then commanded to sacrifice their will to God.  A broken heart and a contrite spirit.  A heart willing to follow God.  Something that was much more difficult to sacrifice than a lamb on the altar.

So I will stay here.  In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints because I asked God if it was still the place for me and he answered. I do not understand everything.  But I do know that God, my Heavenly Father, wants what is best for me, always.  And best does not always mean easy.

Why I Did It

I changed my profile picture of Facebook.

It may look like I followed the crowd.

It may look like I'm just trying to do something cool to "fit in" with what could be seen as the "cookie cutter" Mormon crowd.

It may look like I didn't put much thought into it and just decided to change it on a whim.

None of that is true.

For those of you who don't know where it comes from, there was an even created on Facebook called I'm a Mormon profile picture week.  You can find it here.  I was invited through someone and honestly thought at first that it was just one of those silly things that people do for no real reason.  Something to put us all in the same round hole whether you are shaped that way or not.  A giant "Gooooo Team!" right after General Conference. As I read the details though there seemed to be a bit more to it. 

The person who created it stated that "My hope is that you will participate and invite all of your Latter-day Saint Facebook friends to do so as well. Those not of our faith on Facebook may be surprised to discover they know someone who is "Mormon". And I pray that through that simple thing, sincere questions will be asked and gospel related conversations will be had. Together, we can help bring people closer to Jesus Christ and His restored gospel."

I liked the idea.  I liked what it could do.  But I still wasn't sure I would do it.  Not until I heard Elder David A Bednar's talk on Sunday afternoon.  Lest you should think otherwise he did not say to join this movement.  He just said something that pricked my heart.  A few things really.

His talk was about sharing the gospel.  He said in so many words that sharing what has helped us in our lives is not unusual.  We do it all the time in many different ways.  We share pictures of things that make us laugh, stories that bring joy, household products that helps us clean better.  I mean come on people, we live in a world of sharing everything and we have the power to do so at our fingertips.

And yet.

When it comes to sharing the most important things in my life, I hesitate.  Not because I don't think they are worth sharing but because I'm afraid of being mocked, of having my heartfelt words and experiences trampled upon.  I don't actually know anyone who would really do that but the fear is still there.  And that's just silly.  Silly but not.

I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  I love it.  I love the role that it plays in my life.  I love the simple pure teachings of Jesus.  His love.  His compassion.  His courage.  His example.  I love and am so very grateful for the compassion and mercy that he shows towards me.  The compassion and mercy that I have felt and cannot deny.  

My life has not been easy.  No one's life is really when you get down to it.  We all have trials and times in our lives that make us show our metal.  We all have hard decisions to make, sometimes daily.  We all have experiences that are difficult whether of our making or not.

I used to go through some of these things and shake my fist at the heavens.  Wonder why they were happening to me.  What had I done to deserve these things.

And yet.

The things that have made me shake my fist are some of the very things that have caused me to learn and grow the most.  They have brought me closer to Christ and God.  They have brought me more peace than I thought possible.  While going through the trial it's often difficult to see the whole picture.  Really difficult.  However, as I look back on my life I can't help but see so many tender mercies.  So many things that I thought had gone wrong were really so very right.  I can see God's hand in so many things.  Enough to know that as I walk forward now, not seeing clearly the path before me, I know that I will be alright.  I know that as long as I do my best to follow Christ, to love those around me, to serve, to have compassion, to give the benefit of the doubt, to show mercy... God will take care of me and my family. He will light my path and help me become who he needs me to be.  Who he wants me to be.  

I know there will be more trials, more stretching of my faith and more times that I may be tempted to shake my fist.  But I also know that God is in the heavens and he has not forgotten us.  I know of his love and his intimate interest in my life and desire for my welfare.  And I know that it is not exclusive to me.  He is interested in all of his children, which is all of you.

I am a Mormon.  A Member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  I love it.  I live it.

My Inner Child

Yesterday was awful. I mean awful.  I felt overwhelmed in every aspect of my life.  I had several irons in the fire and not enough time to attend to all of them.  I hadn't been sleeping all that well and neither had Ben.  In fact he was up several times during the night and then decided to take a 45 minute nap rather than the hour and a half we're used to.

Ben was ornery and clingy.  I was ornery and distant.  We both had to be around each other longer and the to do list had thing that just needed to be done.  The setting was just right for the perfect storm.

It hit at about 7 that evening.  The kitchen was a mess, there was flour on the floor that needed to be vacuumed up, and every room in the house was in a state of disarray.  Every.  Room.  Laundry, cushions, toys, papers, crayons... everything everywhere.  There was no sanctuary.  No place of order to hide and calm down.  Just chaos and a child whining and clinging to my leg constantly.  Constantly.  I had to pry him off to use the bathroom.  Noise noise noise noise noise!

My patience had been used to the very last drop. There was no reserve, no bottom of the barrel to scrape.  It was just gone.

I handed Ben off to David who was equally tired and spent and began trying to find some order in the chaos.  2.5 seconds later Ben was at my skirt whining to be carried and I just could. not. do it.  I exploded.  I let out a primal yell all my own, stomped on the floor, and had the grown up equivalent of a two year old fit.  The reaction it caused would have made James P Sullivan of Monsters Inc. fame proud.

Ben ran scared to David for comfort and I felt like a monster.  A monster of a mother who lost her cool in a big way.  A monster who scared her child rather than comforted.  A monster who stomped and yelled and caused disarray.

David quickly took Ben out for a walk and I rampaged around the house throwing things to get them in order, cleaning like a mad woman and working very hard to calm down.  Bewildered by my own reaction and scared of myself. By the time they got back I was able to hold it together and apologize for my behavior.  I felt ashamed and a little lost.

Now for today.

Today was better.  Today I decided that the to do list could go and to do itself.  The important things got done and the never ending list of other things did not even get thought of.  I went for a walk with my son this morning and let him take the lead.  We ended up at a nearby park and he decided when to go home.  We had lunch on the deck with David and we all laughed with each other.  Ben went down for a nap and I went to the temple.

At the temple I regained some perspective and asked for my burden to be lightened.  There was nothing to take away, but God could bless me not to feel it so heavily upon my back.  I listened.  I asked questions in my heart and received direction and answers.  I came to understand more about the blessings and the power of God in my life.  About the Priesthood.  About men and women and why we work well together and why we have to work together.  I asked to be a better mother to my son.  I left with peace in my heart.

It was hot when I got home.  Hot enough to put Ben in his swimsuit and put a pair of shorts on myself.  I threw propriety, caution, and my own inhibitions to the wind and Ben and I got soaked in the sprinklers together.  We played outside all the rest of the afternoon and walked around the neighborhood in wet clothes, sunscreen, and the best big floppy hat in the entire world.  I felt like a kid again.  My body remembered the feel of the never-ending Summer days spent outside, playing in the water, listening to the wind in the trees, and feeling the sun warm my wet skin.  Ben's belly laughs as he took control of the water and sprayed me down made it even more magical.  I showed Ben how to leave wet swimsuit marks on the porch which was amazing to him.

I do have an inner child and for the first time in a long time it has been let out to see the sun.  It was free.  I was my child's best friend today and we both enjoyed our extended time together immensely.  There was no whining, no patience drained.  In fact it was hardly even tapped into.  Ben chatted away happily at dinner time and the whining of yesterday was replaced by laughter today.

Today was a gift.  I hope tomorrow will be one too.

Wishful Thinking or Actual Hope

I've been thinking about hope lately.

Hope for the future.
Hope that things will get better.
Hope that our plans will actually work better in real life than they do on paper.
Hope that I'm not residing in the world of wishful thinking rather than actual hope.

Hope has a foundation, a form, a steadying influence.  It is based on Faith.  Faith in a higher power.  Faith that we are here on this earth doing more than passing time.  More than just letting the days go by until they don't anymore.

We have purpose and meaning.  We have worth.  We have something to offer this world that no one else does.  We are not "stamped out" by a machine, meant to look and act and think and be the same.  Our lives are different.

We are individuals even if we share facial features.  Even if we share views and religion and opinions, we still have our own unique perspective.  Our own convictions that can only be taken from us as we give them up.  Willingly.  Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

Our paths are our own.  By choice or by circumstance, they are still our own.  Not meant to be compared to other's.  Unique.  Designed for us.

I have hope for many things.
I have hope for another child to join our family.
I have hope that we can someday live at least a little more comfortably from paycheck to paycheck.
I have hope for happiness not based on circumstances.
I have hope for greater faith.

I have Hope.

The Glory of Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies

Today I had pumpkin chocolate chip cookies straight from the freezer for dinner.  And Ben’s leftover chicken and rice.  He had the peaches all to himself, and all over himself come to think of it.  Accented with a splash of milk right in the eyes.  Self-inflicted of course.

It’s one of those days.  The days where the dishes from last night are still in the sink.  Oh and the dishes from this morning, this afternoon, and this evening.  There’s even toast still on the table.  It’s dry and crusty to the touch but still looks appetizing to an almost 2 year old.  So does the dried bit of fried egg from breakfast.  To my credit I would not let him have it no matter how much he asked.  I simply pushed it aside to add another layer of dishes in order to feed my son.

I did clean up his room though.  But mostly so I wouldn’t trip over anything in the middle of the night should there be a need to come to his rescue over something dangerous like a shadow.  I really wonder what he sees there.  I'm considering tackling the living room as well.  

I’m trying hard to find balance these days.  Sometimes it comes at the expense of letting all the “important” things go and actually focusing on the really important things, like taking care of yourself.  It’s something that I have neglected lately.  It’s like you get going along in life, everything working out well, and you forget that part of the reason it’s working out so well is because you have taken time to get your own cookies in a pile.  Consistently.  And then you stop.  Not intentionally.  Your routine just gets interrupted.  A family party.  A trip to Salt Lake.  A sick child.  What’s one day going to hurt?  What’s two days?  What’s… how many days has it been?  Why am I feeling overwhelmed with things that shouldn’t be overwhelming?  Oh yeah, because I forgot to keep breathing.  I forgot to do those things that help me be awesome.  Those things that fill my cup and allow me to have something to give to my child, my husband, and others who may or may not need it at the time.  That allow me to give to myself. 

So today, after a wonderful but exhausting yesterday, I decided to call it quits.  The dishes can wait.  My peace of mind cannot.  There are leftovers in the fridge so those who want to eat can.  There is plenty of hot water that can be used tomorrow on the dishes.  Today, right now, I need to breathe.

Find something beautiful...

"You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight."

-Elizabeth Gilbert "Eat, Pray, Love"

 

I love this quote.  Perhaps it's just the cabin fever speaking, but this one spoke to my soul.  The need to find something beautiful.  The idea that we deserve to find something beautiful.

 

I've been thinking a lot about expectations and duty and work.  I've been thinking about how to find and recognize those beautiful things that are a part of my life.  And I've realized something.  If I don't slow down and give myself a break, I never will see the beautiful parts.

 

I sometimes get ridiculously ambitious.  My plan for January was to declutter my entire house, finish the quilt for my bedroom, make a quiet book for Ben, take piano lessons, cook dinner each night, exercise at least 4 times a week, write in my journal daily, finish my kitchen cabinets, spend quality time playing with Ben, and make several wall hangings of quotes I love.

 

So far I've decluttered by putting the Christmas decorations away, thinning out my very large pile of dishcloths, and giving some books to the DI.  The rest has just been clutter-rearranged.  What was once taking up space on the kitchen table is now taking up space on my dresser and piano and some other flat surfaces.  My cabinets are on hold pending the trim getting in at Lowe's sometime in the next month or two.  The rest is just kind of there, laughing at me.

 

I don't know what's more crazy, the fact that I actually put all those things on my to do list, or that I actually thought I could do it and take care of my little family.  Either way, the list is not going to get done and really I'm okay with that.  I'm okay because in this crazy time of January/Winter survival it's more important than ever to "find something beautiful... no matter how slight."

 

These days are going by rather quickly.  Though sometimes it doesn't feel that way, each time I look at the calendar I'm surprised at how close February is. How do I really want to spend my time?  What are my priorities?  And at what expense am I willing to get things done? 

 

Sometimes I forget that I am the one that sets the deadlines here, so I am the one who can change them.  Perhaps my January list should be extended a bit. Perhaps it should read January - July.  Sounds more doable doesn't it?  And it gives me time.  The time that I need, that my soul needs to find the beauty in life.

 

Today it came in the form of my son.  My curious and slightly mischievous son.  The one who decided to tackle my head (stuffed animal style) as I lay on the floor with him showing him how to play with the cars.  The one whose giggles are contagious and make me want to do anything to hear more of them.  The one who is growing too fast for me.  The one that I don't want to miss.  That is my kind of beauty.

 

What's beautiful in your life today?



Owning It

I woke up in an absolute horrid mood.  I had not slept well.  Ben was up a few times in the night.  I had, and still have some decisions to make.  Icky decisions about the future and my role in the family and running a household and making the most of the money and possibly making some of the money.  I wanted to stay in bed and hide from it all.

But I couldn't.  My brain just kept on... going.  So I stuck with the plan that was formulated last night during a happier time and got up, braved the cold and went to the gymn.

Today, this morning, I was a runner for just over 2 minutes.  The rest of the time I walked or ellipticalled (pretty sure I just made that word up) and I sweat buckets and loved it.  My face is still red from exertion and I don't care. Because I feel so much better!  I could work out some anxiety and read words from people that are much smarter than me.  My mind finally, almost effortlessly wrapped itself around some things that I really  needed to figure out.  One of them being the shame of exercise.

Yep, you heard me right, the shame of exercise.

I grew up feeling less than most of the time. Less than in talent, looks, popularity, etc.  I was deeply self-concious about anything I did to stand out. The more I blended into the crowd the better.  I always at in the back row if I could because then no one would be looking at me, judging me and all my extensive flaws.  Exercise, or any outward sign of trying to improve myself was just not something I could handle.  In fact the exercise I did get consisted of situps in the privacy of my own room and walks in the black of night that only living in the country can give you.  I'm certain that I would have died on the spot had anyone walked into my room when I was doing the situps.  I'm certain they would have laughed and mocked me for trying to be... pretty? fit? look like the popular girl?  Of course it was ridiculous and would have never happened, but the feelings were still there.

I don't know why this was.  I have tried and tried to figure it out.  I used to think it was tied to my parents somehow, but I can't find anything solid that would make sense.  I do remember some people being criticized because they were "too into" their bodies.  Some at the expense of their marriages.  But it really doesn't hold water now since I know that those marriages were doomed from the beginning.  Exercise became a way for one or the other to finally do something for themselves so they could feel good about something in life since the marriage and everything surrounding it was going to pot!

Still, I've downplayed the role of exercise in my life.  I've felt a need to justify it: it's the only way I can stay awake long enough to read a book/study; I do it because it helps my back feel better; it staves off depression; I ate way too much last night so I'm just making up for my lack of control.  I'm certainly not doing it to improve my body or feel better about myself as a whole, ya know cause only popular? fit? pretty? people do that.  I'm not really fit.  I'm not really pretty.  Messed up people!  Messed up.

There are a million reasons I could give, all of which have some degree of truth but none that really speak to my authentic self.  The deep down to the core dirty truth is that I exercise because I like it!  I like the way my body feels, all capable and stuff.  I love doing something for myself.  I love that my skin feels better in my clothes.  I love the side benefits of clearer skin and a clearer mind.  I love that I'm getting muscle tone in my arms (though I think that's mostly thanks to The Ben and his almost 20 lbs that spend a good deal of time in my arms). I honestly am a better person when I exercise.  I am a more patient and loving wife and mother.  I feel more balanced.  I feel... better.  Why on earth should I downplay that!

So today I am owning it a little at a time.  My sweat.  My red face.  My capabilities.  Myself.  I, Lora Sullivan, am an exerciser. 

What's something that you love and are not ashamed to claim?