The Jackson Triangle

Ex-it Signs

2012-01-10T07:37:00.002-07:00

I have always had a hard time letting go. Letting things go, and letting people go. I have had a very hard time with abandonment, too. Whenever a relationship ends, I usually feel a moment or two of relief, followed by the feeling that I should have tried harder, done more, or even begged and pleaded to keep us together. I am still carrying a torch for my first "boyfriend" from 2nd grade, checking Facebook, Classmates, and Google, trying to find him. I don't think my motivation is to reconnect romantically, but I really hate the idea that I would never see him again. There are so many people in my life who are only there because I would rather be a doormat than an exit sign. There are people who I dread seeing, but keep on a back burner anyway, because if everyone else left, I would need them.
The hardest ones to let go are the ones I can't live with, but who were my best friends before we got "involved". The ones who I can't imagine never seeing again. The ones who my children and extended family got attached to. Especially the ones whose family became my family. When the breakup or divorce happened, I was initially relieved to be out of the relationship, but my heart broke over the loss of [his/her] family.
In the past several years, I have reconnected with several past relationships. It has mostly been just a "Hi! I am so glad to see you! How are you doing? Tell me about your life since the last time we saw each other? It was nice to see you! Goodbye", but some of the connections have moved back into the "friendship" phase. In my heart, I know there was a reason that they have not been in my life for quite a while, but I would rather have them in a little corner of my life than to have to say goodbye again.
Someone once posted a quote on Facebook that said "There is a reason we refer to past relationships as an "Ex". They are the ones who went out the exit door. Focus on the ones who are Entering your life now." I agree that it makes more sense to focus on the present, but it doesn't make it any easier to let go of the past.
In the last 2 or 3 years, I have been trying to live in the moment more. I am trying to keep my past in the past, and to avoid worrying about the future. It is a very good feeling. In fact, I have developed friendships with some really great people because I am no longer worried about them leaving me. I still hope to have them in my life for a long time, but I don't let my fear of the end to cause stress in our relationship now. I am no longer afraid of abandonment (mostly haha). I am just happy to have people in my life right now, today. Whatever happens tomorrow is just a new chapter. I will miss the people who aren't here tomorrow, but can't put them outside my comfort zone today based on the possibility that they will be gone tomorrow.
I have met a wonderful man who has traveled some broken roads on the way into my life. I believe that he would not be here at this moment if he had not taken those roads, and I believe I wouldn't have let him into my life if I hadn't traveled my own broken roads. There is a country song that says, "God Bless the Broken Road That Led Me Straight To You". I feel like that is my new anthem. I can't wait to go through today, and another day, and another day with this man, until the day we either move on to the next life, or until the day that we move on to the next relationship. There are times when the person you are with is just there for a season. They are there to change your life in a way that leads you to the next person, but there are times when a person is meant to be there forever. Either way, I welcome the relationship today.

Do You Call This An Upswing?

2011-11-08T06:47:00.004-07:00

Two years ago, when I turned 40, I decided to turn over another leaf and spend the second forty years differently. I vowed to myself that I would never (rarely haha) live in the past, or fear the future. I worked very hard, and it took a lot of practice and a few "slip ups", but I have felt much better in the long run. There have been some tests I went through. Some I failed and some I overcame with no effort at all, but even the failures felt so much less important than they used to.
So, here I am, over two years later, and life just keeps getting better, but sometimes I have a bad day (like when I have a migraine that just won't go away)but the bad days are just one day, not a lifetime of pain, which is what I used to think when I was having 20-25 a month, every month, for over 10 years.
Another big downfall in the past was my inability to grieve in a healthy way. Every time someone died, I went into coma mode. I just shut down for weeks or months at a time, unable to function beyond making sure my children had someone else in charge of them because I just couldn't deal with even the smallest responsibilities such as getting a cup down for my daughter or taking them to school. Ironically, I actually held a job through through most of it. I would go into robot mode, do what had to be done, then come home to collapse into a "trance state" for the rest of the day.
Problem number three is PTSD. I went through physical abuse from age 7 to age 15, and was told over and over that it was my fault. As an adult I was told by my mother that it never happened, and when the abuser confessed to her, she accused me of brain-washing him. After the abuser admitted it and repented (and I forgave him),I thought I had left the fear in the past. Instead, every time I was in a situation where I was powerless to stop any kind of abuse, and the "authority figure" such as a boss or a church leader, didn't save me, I started having nightmares about what happened in my childhood. I would wake up in a cold sweat, unable to go back to sleep, and having to check every door, window or closet.
As the ex-wife of a Satanist, I developed a new fear. I constantly looked over my shoulder, checked every nook or cranny and learned new safety measures. He would copy my key (he took a locksmithing course) and let himself in whenever I left my house. He never took anything or destroyed anything. He usually just left something out of place or left every cabinet open, just so I would know he was there. He terrified me in every way he could think of, short of physical abuse, from the time I met him until the day he went to prison for stealing a car three years ago.
Enough about all that, though. I only bring these things up so you can understand the difference between then and now.
Beginning in August, and ending in October, there have been 7 deaths in my extended family:Blaine Hall-10 Aug, MerriAnn Brower-21 Aug, Cyndy Olsen-2 Sep, Dale Wulf-23 Sep, Ray Tolley-25 Sep, & Tracy Hall-11 Oct). For some people this would just be a little bump in their day because they don't know their extended family well, but these are people I see at least once a year at our reunion, and other family gatherings like weddings and funerals. Just one of these funerals would have put me in bed with grief, but to have that many, in such a short time should have made me completely comatose. Instead, it has been so much easier to handle than in the past. I am sad, I will miss them terribly, and in some cases, like Tracy, I hurt inside for his wife and children, but it hasn't put me down.
Another stresser has been my ex-husband (the Satanist). He has been in prison for three years, but will be out in 13 DAYS!!!! I have a lot of preparing to do. I need to open a PO box because my mail comes to a rural type box that anyone can get into (which means I will need to give my new address to a list of about 100 businesses and people). I need to talk to the local police so they know I am not just a "girl who cries wolf" (I hope to get a "No Trespassing" order from them too). I need to buy more alarms for my doors and windows. The one thing I can't do is protect my house while I am not home. I will have to search the house everytime we come home, and make sure everything important is locked up.
Surprisingly, I am more stressed/upset about the extra precautions I have to take than I am about him being free. I am frustrated that in a tiny little way, he can still control me. I hate that I have to inconvenience myself, driving to the post office instead of walking to the end of my driveway. I hate that I can no longer let my daughter play outside (but it is getting colder, so she wouldn't be going out much anyway). I hate that I have to contact every person who sends me mail or bills to let them know my new address. I hate that I have to start watching for him to follow me home. All of these things put little bumps in my day, but they honestly are just bumps. I can think of them or dwell on them for as long as it takes to do them, then move on. It is a fantastic feeling!!!
It does worry me about the future a little though. Compared to my old self, I am dealing with some of the biggest things that used to drag me down, but I am dealing with them really well. I kinda worry now that I am handling these tough things, God may have to come up with even bigger challenges to help me grow.
I guess I still have a little work to do. I am still in my E.G.O. (edging God out) state of mind a little.

Friends Forever?

2011-09-15T09:35:00.002-06:00

I was listening to some religious speaker, and he asked a question that got me thinking about my choice of friends. He said, "Jesus wants to be our best friend, but we have to want that friendship more than anything else." I changed the channel at that point, trying to find a channel my daughter could watch, but that question stuck with me for a while. I tried to figure out, in my mind, what direction he was going with that statement. Did he talk about getting rid of addictions that kept Christ at a distance? Was he talking about not giving into peer pressure? Not letting other people pressure us into doing things that put distance between us and our Heavenly Father? Maybe it was all about self esteem. When we don't believe we are worthy of his love and friendship, we can become depressed or "numb" and unable to feel his love. I came up with many directions that statement could have taken the man who was speaking, but after following all those threads, and measuring them against my life for a while, another thing occured to me. If I was with a friend, doing what I normally did with that friend, would I want to invite Jesus along with us? Would I be ashamed to call them a friend? Would they (or I) do and say the same things if He was there?

I have had a lot of friends who fit my parents' mold (White, LDS, and followers of the Word of Wisdom), but most of my friends didn't. The surprising thing is that almost all of the ones who were "good" hurt me physically, mentally or emotionally, and most of the "bad" ones made me feel good about myself.

Looking back, I probably wouldn't have asked Jesus to come to the drinking parties I attended, but I would want him there when I drove my drunk friends home(sober). I wouldn't want him to witness the times I gave into a "good" boyfriend's pressure to "prove I love him", but I would have gladly invited him along on my dates with the "bad" boys who treated me and my body with respect. I would not want Him to see me allowing my LDS friends/family/boyfriends to abuse me and my kids over the years, but I know he celebrates the friends I have kept over the years despite the fact that they don't fit the mold EVERYONE expects them to fit into.

There are many relationships I wish I could change. I wish I had been courageous enough to stand up for the "underdog" who was being treated badly by my "friends". I wish I had been able to distance myself from the "friends" who put down my clothes, hair, parenting style, etc., all in the name of "trying to help me". I wish I had realized how lucky I was to have so many friends who saw the good in me, who uplifted me, and made my life better just for knowing them. I let my family and peers instill a belief that "only the bad kids like you, because you act like them". Only now do I see that as a compliment. I would rather be "bad" and treat others kindly, than to be "good" and treat others like they aren't good enough.

When I picture Jesus "cruising around" with me and my other friends, I see my honest, trustworthy, slightly odd friends, not the ones who say one thing, and do another. If I had to choose an eternal friend, it would probably be one of the ones my parents didn't approve of.

How about you? Do your friends measure up to Christ's standards? Or would you "forget to send them an invitation" to the party because Jesus would be there, and you would be ashamed of what they might do or say? Are your friendships Eternal or worldly?

You left the Stage...

2011-03-29T16:47:00.003-06:00

I just watched the Oprah show, featuring Marie Osmond. She was there to talk about her son Michael, who committed suicide this past year. It brought out all my feelings about the people in my life who have chosen to leave this world before their time.
A distant cousin (ironically) named Michael struggled with a mental disease for many years before he gave up. R.P. Coltrane came to see my family for the last time, just about a week before he shot himself. I chose not to join them for dinner because I couldn't afford it, so I missed seeing him that last time. Two of my second husband's cousins (Trent & Jordan)who didn't seem to have a care in the world until the day they seemed in a rush to go from this life into the next one. Damon who didn't even get to finish his dream. Martin, had so many physical pains that he could only find relief in heaven. Derrick who planned his final hurrah for the weekend his mother was supposed to be gone, and made arrangements for the mess to be cleaned up before she got back, but had to follow through despite the fact she stayed home. Colly, a wonderful young man who didn't realize his potential. Nikki, a beautiful woman who left us way too soon.
I wonder sometimes if they even resided in their bodies in those last minutes before they decided to leave. It seems that in some strange way, they were already disconnected in some way.
Or maybe they were going through some mental pain that was stronger than their desire to stay here. I have had many times with my migraines that I didn't consider suicide, but entertained trying things that would have killed me,to relieve the pain.
I know for certain that each of them are missed every day, by countless people.

I need a witness

2010-12-09T05:33:00.002-07:00

I have always had a problem (according to my mother) with "taking things the wrong way", but this past year, since I started taking different medications for my migraines, I seem to be having an even harder time feeling like I am being heard, and I come away from meetings, and discussions feeling like "did he/she REALLY just say that?" I really wish I could "bug" myself sometimes so I could have someone else listen in and tell me if I am being too sensitive or if I am coming across in a way that provokes different responses, etc.

Case 1:My Idaho Housing representative.
Over a year ago, she told me about a new law that had passed making it necessary for me to move from a 3 bedroom apartment to a 2 bedroom aparment starting January 2010. (It used to be that if you had a boy and a girl, they insisted that they have separate rooms, now they HAVE TO share a room) I pointed out to her that MY boy and girl are 12 years apart, that my boy is an adult, that we were trying to transition him into the community by essentially having him live as a "boarder" in my house, paying me rent, doing his own laundry, buying his own food, etc, and that making him sleep with his sister would mess with that process. I kept calling her for the next 2 months, asking if there was ANYTHING we could do to fight it, and she kept telling me no, so I gave my notice and started looking for an apartment. My current manager started fighting for me at that point, and even got nasty with my Idaho Housing rep., and the rep. shot back with something like, "Well if she feels this strongly about it, why didn't she ask for an accomodation?" My manager asked about it, and found out that because Dalton is disabled, he can ask for an accomodation, stating that having to share the room would affect his disability in some way, and we wouldn't have to move. (???!!!!!) I was relieved, angry, and dissapointed all at the same time because we had already packed a bunch of boxes, said all our goodbyes, and resigned ourselves to moving, but really happy that we got to stay.

I called her to ask about it, and she said she had told me about it in the meeting in November, but I KNOW that if she had said anything about it, I would not have been making all those phone calls in between asking what we could do to fight it. She still insisted that I just didn't hear her say it. Then she told me that I needed to understand that the accomodation is only for Dalton, and that if/when he ever moves out, we still would have to move to a smaller place. I told her I understood that, and knowing he was planning a mission for about August 2010, I didn't even put the pictures back up on the walls or anything.

Then last month, Nov 2010, it was time to recertify again, and I called before the meeting and asked her what all it would entail when Dalton leaves for his mission (cuz his papers are at the Stake lever at this point, so we are thinking it should be just a couple of months)and she said it would basically be a repeat of what I was going through for the recertification process "so it's too bad I couldn't just put in my notice now and get it all over with at once". So I did. I gave my notice on Nov 15th, which meant I have to be out by Dec 15th. Then at the recert. on Nov 16, she said "Dalton going on a mission is like having a family member who is a truck driver, so you could still count him as a member of the family and still keep his accomodation, and still live in a 3 bedroom if you wanted". 2011, we would have to move into a 2 bedroom in 2012. I told her we would be looking for a 2 bedroom.

She also dropped the "bombshell" that I couldn't commit to an apartment until after my "briefing" on Dec 1st. I could "look", but not start the process until then. That made the process a lot more complicated. Now I have less than a week before I have to be out of the old apartment, and at least a week and a half of paperwork before I can move into the new one.

Case 2: My Bishop
I don't even know where to begin...it would take 3 posts to go into detail about everything that has happened since we moved into the ward, so I will just skim the facts.

Spring 2006 confessed my sins (had just moved out of living with a guy)and he said we may need to hold a church court. Told me he would get back to me, but until then, I shouldn't accept any callings, and "if I was a priesthood holder, he would be telling me I couldn't pass the sacrament".
November 2007 I had seen him a couple of times since then, and hinted around about it, but felt like it wasn't my place to question the "timetable of the Lord", but 1 1/2 years later, I finally asked him about it. He said he had forgotten about it and thought I knew that since he didn't call me I was forgiven and free to move forward with a clear conscience.

Jan 2009 Son got baptized & almost immediately started talking about going on a mission. I took Bishop aside, told him about my concerns (he has never been far from home, when he has been away from home, he lasts about a month before he has a nervous breakdown and comes home, he has a lot of nervous habits that his companion would need to be prepared for, etc.) The Bishop stopped just short of patting my head and said something like, "You would be surprised by the miracles that happen on a mission. He will get out there, and he will be cured.", etc.
Dec 2010 We turned in the bulk of the paperwork in June, and the final papers on the first Sunday of August. Each week, the Bishop said, "One more week". Finally in Nov, he said he had sent them to the Stake, and we started gettting,"So and so has your paperwork" then So and So would say someone else had them. Finally, I went to the Bishop for something totally unrelated (we will talk about that in a minute) and just as I was leaving, he said, "Oh by the way, the Stake wants your son to have a Psychological examination before they send his paperwork on". I was dissapointed because I had made an appointment with him, he hadn't called me, we were moving out of the ward, so we would not be going to church there anymore, and he knew it, but he just "casually" mentioned it as I was walking out of his office.

I have been struggling EVERY month this year to pay my bills. I feel like it is kind of ironic that I have paid my tithing faithfully EVERY month this year for the first time in my entire life, and it has been one of the hardest years in my entire life financially, but I just keep paying it. Sooo, anyway, I am getting ready to move, and I need $500 for the deposit, and about $300 for my portion of the rent. I went to my Bishop last night to see if he could help me, and he said no. He said if I hadn't paid my bills, he could have paid my bills so I could have used my money to pay the deposit, but he can't pay the deposit. He asked if we could use Dalton's "mission savings", and I said he can't save money because it would "mess up our food stamps", and he said "Can't he just stash some away?" (wouldn't that be lying?) Then he offered a food order, and I explained that we had some food stamps left to get us through for the next week at least, and that I would prefer NOT to get a bunch of food that I would just have to move and possibly store in my dad's basement until I can come up with the money for the deposit..blah blah blah and he acted like I just didn't appreciate his help. He wants me to take back my 30 day notice, stay until the 1st, and let him pay January's bills so I can use my money to pay the deposit. I tried to explain to him that in January I would need the usual $700-800 for the regular bills, plus the full first month's rent (abt $255 for my share) plus the $500 deposit, so even if he paid the whole $700-$800...and he broke in and said, "Oh we could only pay maybe your rent and power, not the whole $700" and I said, "Then I will be in the same boat again next month, only with another bishop by then." and he said, "That is true, if you move now, you could ask the other bishop to help you next month", then he smiled kind of sheepishly.

I just wish I had someone else with me so I knew if I just "took it all wrong".

Split Personalities

2010-11-14T04:31:00.005-07:00

I have had a lot of bad relationships in my life. There have been people who were not very nice to me, and not very nice to anyone I care about. I am not saying that to seek pity. I am just stating a fact.

Along with those relationships, I have had a lot of really good relationships with people who were good to me, but were not very nice to other people who I love.

Then there are a few people in my lifetime who have been good to me, and to those I love. Those are the "keepers".

I have realized throughout the last few years that the first group are the ones I can let go of the easiest. I can put up with someone abusing me for a long time, out of a skewed sense of forgiveness and "turning the other cheek", but you mess with someone I care about, and I am not so willing to let it happen twice. The few exceptions to that rule have included the father of my children, and my mother. I (used to)let my ex-husband keep hurting us over and over because I (foolishly) thought he had a right to be in his children's lives, no matter how hurtful he was. I keep my mother in my life because....well, because she is my mother.

The third group of people I mentioned will probably always always be in my life, either here or on the other side, so I don't really need to "waste" a lot of time wondering and philosophizing about them. They are who they are and I am comfortable with who they are in my life.

The second group is where it gets sticky, and where I start to feel like I am Sybil, (or I am surrounded by a lot of Sybil's).

The biggest, most important influence in my life (besides my aforementioned mother) were my grandparents. I loved them with all my heart, and could always count on them to love me, feed me, comfort me, clothe me, shelter me, support my hobbies/interests, etc. My grandmother wasn't a "hugger" or a "kisser" or even an "I love you"-er, but I knew she loved me to the core. My grandpa was my best friend. When I was little, he didn't so much hug me as squeeze my belly button out through my spine, he didn't so much kiss me as rub his whiskers all over my cheek, his "I love you" sounded more like "How's my boy today?", and he soothed my hurt knee by punching my arm. As I hit my teens, that changed. His "hugs" became a squeeze of my shoulder, as he walked by, or he would reach out while we were sitting close to just squeeze my hand and wink at me. His kisses were a quick peck on my cheek or forehead, his "I love you" was "I love you, Sis", and he said it often, and I would give anything to hear him call me "Sis" just one more time.

When I was in my early 20s, the same man I just described admitted to committing a crime against other members of my family. Some of the people who he hurt still can't get over it now, 20 years later. I have a hard time liking the man who hurt my family members. I am also a little angry at his wife. She admitted that she was aware that he "might" be doing something wrong.

The problem is that I don't want MY BEST FRIEND to get in trouble, or have a record attached to him, or be judged by that record, but I want THE MAN WHO HURT MY FAMILY to be punished, and for his wife to realize what damage she caused by keeping silent. Hence, the split personality.

My father and I have had a roller coaster type relationship. In my very early childhood, I overheard a conversation that I interpreted to mean that he didn't want me/love me, so I spent half of my childhood trying to make him love me, and the other half trying to prove I didn't need his love. After I had my son, and my ex was out of our lives quite a bit, my father kind of stepped in as a surrogate father/best friend to my son, and my relationship with him got better. UNTIL.....

My father has always been kind of a flirt. My whole life I have been a little embarrassed by him flirting with my classmates, then my younger sister's classmates, then my even younger sister's classmates, etc. until now he has started to hang out with my 20 year old son. They go to the mall, or the college campus, scoping out "2 legged deers", supposedly for my son to ask out, but I am just a little bit uncomfortable with the arrangement.

So as my son's FRIEND, this may be perfectly normal, but as my FATHER or as my son's SURROGATE FATHER/GRANDFATHER, this is just weird. Hence, the split personality.

I have a huge extended family who I see at least once a year. My grandmother had 9 brothers and sisters, and most of their kids and grand kids get together once a year for a reunion, not to mention at least one wedding or funeral in between, so I know my extended family pretty well, and we are very close. Or at least I thought we were.

This past year, I have been let down in a big way. My perception has been shattered. I grew up with 8 "Grandma" Finns and 2 "Grandpa" Finns, in my mind. I really thought that if I was stranded on the side of the road, I could call up any one of them or their kids or grand kids, and they would come to get me just as quickly as if it was my own brother or sister. I thought if I sent a wedding invitation or if someone died, they would all show up. I know every time I have known about a family event, I have shown up, because it was a member of my family.

Some of my "grandparents" and "cousins" were closer to me than others. I rarely called Grandma Betty 'Aunt Betty' because she always lived so close to my "real" grandma and was so closely related, that I called her Grandma Betty most of my life. Aunt Sarah looked so much like my grandma, that when I was little, I would go to her when I couldn't find my grandma, cuz she seemed like a good substitute. Aunt Beth always treated me well, and welcomed me into her home if I was going to be in Utah for some reason, and her daughter's family got me through some of the roughest times in my life. Mary's kids have always been people I could turn to with questions about genealogy or family history or just funny stories around the campfire late at night. But every aunt, uncle, and cousin is important to me, and I love and respect them all. I thought the feeling was mutual.

This last reunion, August 2010, my family was preparing to take over for the next year, and decided to move the reunion from the spot we were having it. I was chosen to be the spokesperson, and when I made the announcement, I was met with resounding BOOOOs. After I had answered (tried to answer) some questions about why and where and etc., then I was surrounded by some of my closest family members, and they were all telling me I COULD NOT move the reunion, in a way that made me feel bullied and basically dismissed as "someone who counted" in the family. In the end, it was decided by other family members (my branch of the family did not get a vote) that our branch would just get skipped, and the next branch would be in charge next year so the rest of the family would be appeased.

Now don't get me wrong, I am all for democracy. If the majority rules, then I am fine with that, as long as it applies to every branch of the family. I just felt like we were left out of the process. So I still love my entire family, extended and immediate, but I am having a little trouble liking "The Finns" as a whole right now. Hence, the split personality.

I am starting a new blog :)

2010-11-11T10:58:00.003-07:00

My cousin inspired me to start writing more, and between trying to be a better mother, and trying to overcome some health problems, I feel like I don't always have the time to write a lot each day. I have a book I have been working on for about 15 years, so I have decided to start sharing parts of it on here, and add a little to the end of it each day. I also want to start writing poetry again, so maybe I will trade off once in awhile with a poem.

I am just warning you if you start reading it...everything I write is my own feelings and opinions, and comes from the deepest part of me, so it isn't always "pretty" or politically or religiously "correct". Sometimes it is written with a lot of pain or depression or anger. Sometimes it is full of sarcasm. But it is always true to how I felt at the time.

This is me, wide open. Take me or leave me. Just please try to understand me. You can find me under Becki-Almost Fiction (and other truths) or http://becki-almostfictionandothertruths.blogspot.com

I will still use this one for my occasional "whines" and "bragging" about day to day family stuff, but the other one will be for my more creative writing. Hope to "see" you in both places.

Families are Forever (I think that's a good thing)

2010-11-07T07:50:00.003-07:00

When my parents divorced in 1989, it was a very "friendly" parting. My mother had been unhappy in the marriage for many years, and my father found another wife very quickly, so they were both fine with the way things ended. There are still little things that crop up between them, but it has more to do with personality clashes than the fact that they once loved each other and now hate each other. In fact, at any family event, like a baby blessing or a soccer game, you will see my mother sitting next to my step mother or my father as if they are all good friends. That is how it has been from the beginning, and I only occasionally find it strange. Usually when I hear of a newly divorced couple who have to exchange their children in a neutral place I think to myself, "My parents are either really great or really weird".

So the whole "amicable divorce" thing isn't exactly foreign in my immediate family, but my ex-husband's grandmother's house has become the ultimate example of the neutral zone.

When I first got married to Steve, his mother's side of the family, and his father's side of the family was still at war enough that we had to have the wedding at his father's house, then ban his father's family from the reception so his mother's family could come to it. The bad feelings continued between them throughout our entire marriage, and even up until my daughter was born 15 years later. At that point, a "miracle" happened. Steve's father, step-mother, and maternal grandmother all came to see the baby together. That seemed to break the ice between the two families.

When I divorced Steve, I really tried to stay "friendly" with him and his family for the sake of our son, and his grandmother was very accommodating about it. She always made me feel welcome (more so even than when we were married)and made sure I was invited to family dinners, etc. I usually declined, due to the fact that I was still afraid of my ex husband and didn't really like to be in his presence unless it was necessary, but I appreciated the invitation, and still felt close to a lot of his family. As time went on, Steve moved to another state, and I spent more time with his grandparents and other family, and a lot of my family members even came with me sometimes.

Over the years, all three of Granny's daughters have gotten divorced, and two of them died. Their ex-husband's have remarried and/or have girlfriends, and they all come to see Granny. Sometimes, even after the ex husband of one of Granny's daughters has broken up with a woman, the woman still stops in to see Granny, and she is treated like family.

Now, on any given day you could see this "strange" group of people sitting in Granny's kitchen: Granny, me (her grandson's ex-wife), Liz (my sister), Sherrie (her daughter Pat's ex-husband's stepdaughter), Terry (her daughter Becky's ex-husband), Laverna (her daughter Paulette's ex-husbands wife), and Airiel(my nephew's ex-wife).

Everyone is family, and no one would dare treat each other like they didn't belong. In fact, when I made a comment the other day about how ironic it was that not only do I feel welcome in my ex-husband's grandmother's house, but that my ex family members feel welcome in her house (referring to my nephews ex), she said, "She didn't divorce me!", with such force, that I knew I had committed a major faux pas.

I like the way she thinks most of the time. It can be a little sticky when you have a "not so good relationship" with her grandson, and you would prefer not to be "one big happy family" with him, but it is nice to be part of the rest of his family.

I refuse to be Rapunzel, even if it is Safe

2010-08-26T05:55:00.003-06:00

First of all, I am thinking I should rename this blog "Whinings and Pinings" cuz it isn't really about my family, it is all about me and my gripes. But, hopefully, one of these days I will have a good story to tell and it will balance it out a little.

My whole life I have just wanted to BELONG. In my family there was a birthday girl, a pretty girl, a baby girl, the long awaited first son, the "tough" son, and the baby boy. I was "nobody". In school, I was smart, but not really a "brain". I was a mormon, but not a "molly". I hung out with the partiers, but didn't party. I just didn't really fit into any group. I went to church, but the kids I went to church with were the ones who treated me badly in school, so I didn't really "feel the love" there either.

I have told counselors that my whole life I have pictured a fortress in the middle of a dark forest. Everyone else in the world is inside there, safe and happy, and I am on the outside, in danger. Sometimes, other people get "kicked out" of the fortress for some reason, and they become my only companions for a short while, but they eventually find a way back in the fortress, or move on somewhere else, leaving me alone again. I sometimes get a visit from family and friends who come out to see me, but they always go back in without me. In my scariest moments, I pound on the door of the fortress, begging to be let in, asking what I have done that is so horrible that I have been shut out, but no one ever answers the door.

About 5 years ago, I met a man who didn't get me into that fortress, but he built one for me. While I was with him, I felt more safe than I ever had. He protected me from everyone and everything. No one could get to me while I was living in his "castle".

The only problem was that I was a prisoner of that fortress. He monitored every thing I did or said. He did everything he could to cut me off from friends and family, including my two children. No one could hurt me, but no one could "love" me either. Every gesture from outside the fortress was seen as an attack against our relationship. I finally belonged to someone/something, but I was just that; a possession.

So I chose to go back to what was familiar. I am back in the forest, just outside the fortress where "everyone else" is living. If anyone knows what I can do to get in, please let me know.

Just keep swimming (running)

2010-06-28T09:51:00.002-06:00

I was really tired yesterday, and ended up taking a 4 hour nap, so I ended up being up until almost 2 this morning. In the middle of the night, I was scrolling through channels, and ran across Ed Young, a religious speaker. I have watched him before, and find him very interesting, but some of what he says doesn't ring true for me, so I usually don't watch for very long.
Last night/this morning he was talking about his son who has a disease that keeps him about 3 years behind his peers in motor skills. He was talking about how his son had decided to join the track team "because they let everyone on the team", and how Ed was aching for his son because he knew his son could never truly compete against his peers, but he said yes, bought all the clothes, etc. that he would need, and nervously anticipated the first track meet.
As his son lined up with the other boys for the 100 meter, he was obviously half their size, and again Ed felt his stomach clench for his son, and the sure embarrassment and humiliation he was going to feel once the race was run. Sure enough, as the other boys crossed the finish line, his son was just crossing the 15 meter line. Ed and his wife hugged each other in grief for their son, sure they would have a tearful boy to greet when they got down to the track. Then as they stood to walk down there, they realized their son had not just given up and stopped running. He kept up his uneven pace, giving it his all, until he also crossed the finish line. Then he found the winner and shook his hand.
This made me think of many times in my life when I have felt like someone else has "crossed the finish line" before me, like a friend who has been married for more than 20 years to the same man, or another who owns his own business and is VERY comfortable financially. I find myself mentally and emotionally slowing down and thinking, "I will never reach that goal as fast or as well as they did, so why try"
Anyone who has seen "Finding Nemo" knows the fish Dori, and that she wasn't exactly "normal", but her favorite saying was "Just keep swimming". That, and the story Ed Young told made me think about all the people I have known and worked with who have had a disability of some kind. When you watch them "run a race" of any kind, you find that no matter how far behind they are, they just keep going. I used to think it was because they didn't realize they had already lost, but now I can't help but wonder if they already know something I wish I had learned a long time ago. Each "race" we run is really a race of one. We only have to do our best until we reach the finish line.
Of course, it is a wonderful feeling to know you came in first, and if you are running in a "team event" (such as being a parent), other people are counting on you to finish faster, better, stronger, but ultimately, they have to run their own race too. The only way to guarantee you will lose is if you never finish the race. I truly think there is a difference between getting 25th place out of 25 people, and losing.
SO DON'T STOP RUNNING JUST BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE HAS CROSSED THE FINISH LINE. KEEP RUNNING.

Guilty conscience or Human nature?

2010-04-14T08:59:00.003-06:00

Have you ever been sitting in school and heard them page you to come to the office, and even though you know you haven't done anything wrong, you get that sinking feeling in your gut?

Have you ever been cruising down the freeway, with your cruise set at the speed limit, making sure you are using your turn signal while changing lanes, not cutting anyone off, etc., but as soon as you see a police car go by, you immediately check your speedometer, and look in your rear view mirror to see if he is going to do a u-turn?

When the Walmart paging system comes on with a "Code Adam", do you immediately start counting your children to make sure you haven't lost one?

When someone close to you dies, is your first thought, "I am so glad we got to spend last Saturday together", or is it "I should have gone over there last night"?

I ask these things because when I was asked by my bishop whether I felt worthy of attending the temple, I felt the same way I do in those instances. I know I haven't done anything to deserve a visit to the principal's office or a ticket from a policeman. I know losing my child in Walmart doesn't make me a bad mom or that no one can be expected to be with everyone they love every second on the off chance that they might die that day. I also know I don't have to be perfect to be worthy to go to the temple, but it doesn't stop me from feeling like I have done something wrong. When he asked me if I felt worthy, I did a mental check of my spiritual speedometer, even though I knew it was set at "worthy", and just knowing I had to look made me feel unworthy.

My family thinks I should challenge his decision. They think I should go to the Stake President. I just feel like I either believe he is God's mouthpiece, or I don't. Going over his head or questioning his decision is like saying I don't have faith in the very "system" my family wants me to believe in.

It would be very easy for me to just say, "I don't care if I can go to the temple". It would be better for my self worth to take it out of the equation completely. After all, the greatest blessing one can get from the temple is not available to me at this time anyway. I am not sealed to my children, and with no plans to be married in the future, that is not something I ever see happening. They can be sealed to their spouses and children, but there will be a big gap in the chain.

I can go do work for other people who didn't have the chance to be endowed and sealed to their families (if I had a recommend), but no matter how worthy I am to enter the temple, I can't be sealed to my family anyway. It would be so much easier if I just didn't care.

Guilty conscience or Human nature? [Background]

2010-04-14T05:27:00.002-06:00

I am really struggling with a dilemna right now. I am torn between my religious upbringing (and all the "rules" I have set for myself because of that history), and my desire to break free from the patterns I followed during my 1st 40 years.

I don't know whether I have just warped the religion I grew up with, or if it truly has warped me, but I do know that some of the things I have learned from that religious upbringing affect me negatively when it comes to feeling good about myself. Whether it was the way it was taught, or the way I learned it, that is unclear to me, but it is almost impossible for me to seperate the "religion" from the "never good enough" feeling I have always had. It seems like the only time I feel like I am worthy of love, trust, etc., is when I stop caring about the "rules" set by that religion, and just live the way I think my Heavenly Father would like me to live. But somehow, I always get pulled back to the rigidity of that upbringing by the pressure of family, the promise of eternal happiness vs. earthly happiness, and my need for some kind of "belonging".

Don't get me wrong. I don't think there is anything necessarily wrong with what I was taught. I just have a hard time conforming to the mold they have set for me. I have never felt like a "Child of God" because I never felt like a child. I have a really hard time feeling like I am "good enough" to be an "Official" member.

I went through a period in my life when I did feel good enough, back when I belonged to a singles branch. I got my endowments and attended the temple weekly for a year and a half. Then I met my second husband, got married, fell into a deep depression, got divorced, and stopped attending church and the temple. As time went on, it got easier and easier not to renew my recommend, and before I knew it, 12 years had passed since I had set foot in the temple.

My brother and his wife are getting ready to be sealed to each other and to their 4 boys, and I would really love to be there to witness it. I have been following the "rules" for 4 years, and thought now would be a good time to renew my recommend. Not only to attend with my brother, but with my disability status, I have many days when I don't have a headache that I could go do temple work instead of sitting home bored. So, I went to my bishop, and he seemed very positive about me going to the temple until we got to a question that went something like..."Do you feel worthy to attend the temple?" I hesitated, and told him that I KNEW I was worthy, but couldn't honestly say I FELT worthy because I haven't felt worthy my whole life. He told me I need to come back when I FEEL worthy to go. I left his office feeling like I will never be able to go back to the temple.

The Mirror from Snow White

2010-03-31T06:12:00.002-06:00

I remember watching "Snow White" as a child, and being afraid of the witch/stepmother in it. She was mean and powerful and if things weren't going her way, she found a way to get what she wanted. To a person stuck in the "victim" cycle, she was just the embodiment of all the "mean" people out there.

Now, as an adult, I find myself (almost) sympathizing with her. I have spent my life "looking in the mirror" and having my family, friends, counselors, etc. tell me I am smart, pretty, a good person, etc. but I still see an evil person. Then it seems like just as I start to believe what they are saying, the "magic mirror" tells me I am no longer "the fairest". I am not quite as good or as worthy as I need to be.

Although I would never stoop to sending a woodsman to kill the thing or person standing in the way of me being seen as a good person again, I still find myself frustrated that there is no one who is loyal enough to do it. I find myself feeling as the wicked stepmother must have when she realized the woodsman had tricked her. She could trust no one.

I wouldn't "kill" or put anyone down in order to raise myself up, but there are times that I feel as the Stepmother must have when she realized Snow White was "perfect" and that she never would be. I feel like something was taken away from me that was supposed to be mine, and I don't know how to get it back.

I feel like I can be the nicest, most obedient, most loyal person, and because my "mirror" shows an evil person, I will never really be "good". In the meantime, there are people out there who look in the mirror and see "Snow White", so if they make a mistake here and there, it is okay, cuz they are, and always will be, Snow White.

They expect to be treated well, so they are. I expect to be treated like someone evil, and guess what...I eat the poisoned apple, every day.

Being Perfect (ly Invisible)

2010-03-16T09:19:00.005-06:00

I am trying very hard to keep the past in the past for the 2nd 40 years of my life, but sometimes, I get reminded so strongly of what has happened to influence who I am now that I find myself "living in the bathroom".

When I was young, my younger brother was a very angry child, and his anger was usually directed at me. I spent a lot of my life in the bathroom because it was one of the only doors that could lock him out and keep me safe. He would get "that look" in his eyes that meant I was in danger, and although I usually didn't even know what I had done to incur his wrath, I would make a mad dash for the bathroom while he either tried to catch me to beat me with his bare hands, headed for the kitchen to get a broom or knife, or headed for my room to destroy something I loved. If I was "lucky", I made it to the bathroom and got it closed and locked before he caught me, and if I was "really lucky", he would stay outside the door ranting and raving at me instead of going into my room. He would usually stay outside the door for 10 minutes to an hour, depending on how mad he was, then wander off. I would start yelling for my mother or one of my sisters to come let me know if it was safe to come out, and if it was, I would come out and wait for the next blow-up. While I was locked in there, I could hear my brothers and sisters playing, the tv on, the birds singing outside, etc., but I had to stay within the small walls of the bathroom so I could feel safe.

If it was my mother who came to the door, she would often ask the "logical" question, "What did you do to make him mad this time?" As a mother, I have uttered those words in various forms, so I know it wasn't necessarily meant to be a judgement, but I always heard, "If you were nicer, quieter, better, perfect, invisible, etc., he wouldn't get mad at you".

In school, I wasn't really part of any group. I wasn't smart enough to be a "brain" or coordinated enough to be a "jock". I tried smoking and alcohol, but didn't like them, so I didn't really fit in with the "partiers". I was raised LDS, but most of the LDS kids in my school treated me like I had the plague, so I didn't fit in with them either. I learned very early on, that if you didn't have a group to back you up, you better not do anything that might offend one of the groups. They would make your life miserable, and you would have no one to protect you. I was very good at being nice, quiet, good, perfect, & invisible around school.
I didn't have a lot of boyfriends, but the ones I had, I would have done ANYTHING to keep, so when they pressured me to have sex, I did. If they wanted to see other people, but still keep me on "retainer", I did. If they wanted to keep me a secret, and even talk about me like I was a piece of garbage in front of their friends, then tell me they loved me when we were alone, I was nice, I keep quiet, was good to them, was a perfect girlfriend, and was invisible. The real me practically ceased to exist at all.

When I moved back in with my parents after living with my grandparents for a couple years, everyone was already established in their own rooms, etc. I had to live like an overnight guest. I had one drawer in my sister's dresser, about 6 inches in the closet, and had to keep all my knick knacks etc. in boxes. I wasn't very nice about it. I was pretty vocal about how unfair it was. I was not good at being grateful for a roof over my head, and I was perfectly happy to let everyone know how unhappy I was. Yet, I seemed to be invisible to them.

Then I married a Satanist whose family didn't like me very much, and I used my old lessons again. I was the nicest, quietest, best, most invisible person I could be. That way I couldn't do anything wrong, say anything wrong, be in the wrong place, or make my husband upset. Even 19 years after our divorce, I am very nice, quiet, and as invisible as possible when it comes to him and his family.

I have been in and out of counseling most of my adult life, and one of the things I want to "fix" the most is my need to be perfect and invisible. I tell them I am tired of "living in the bathroom" and being afraid to stand up for myself when someone is treating me unfairly. I am tired of "the world" standing outside the door and telling me "if you had just been nicer, quieter, better, more perfect, or more invisible, the "bad guy" wouldn't have...." For once, I want to feel like the "bad guy" is the one locked in the bathroom, and I am free to wander off and play without the fear of getting hurt.

Most counselors do the 'verbal head pat', and tell me that it's possible if I just believe it, but my most recent one did something totally ?new? and ?unexpected? yesterday. She "shoved me in the bathroom and locked it from the outside".

She told me [there are people out there who are going to be aggressive to you or your kids, and you can't change them, you can only change yourself...you need to stay away from them if you can, or if you can't, you need to be nice to them, don't say anything to make them mad...if they get mad, even if it isn't your fault, tell them sorry...try to be as perfect as you can be all the time, and try not to be noticed by the people who are aggressive...if they do something to you like hit or hold you down, you need to think about what you did to make that happen so you can not do that again...there is nothing you can do to protect your kids, you can only teach them to be careful around people like this and if they get hurt, there is nothing you can do]

I left her office feeling so defeated. The other "professionals" I've gone to for help haven't been able to find the key to "get me out of the bathroom". Now she has added another lock.

Gosh, if I had only known all these years that all I had to do was be nicer, quieter, better, more perfect, and more invisible to be happy and safe, I would have tried it a long time ago!!!!

Tara & My Suz

2010-01-09T06:33:00.005-07:00

Suzanne Price was one of the funniest people I knew during my one year at Sugar-Salem High School. She was dating a guy whose locker was next to mine, so I spent a lot of time observing her, but not a lot of time really getting to know her. I was in a new school with "strangers", and was just trying to get through the year and graduate.
A few years passed, my nephew's biological father was Suz's brother-in-law, and Suz had a baby, so my sister, nephew, and I went to see her. By then, she was living in Idaho Falls, near the YMCA, and had already battled Cancer and beaten it once. I didn't know that then. I just knew she was very thankful for her life and her child. I still didn't take a lot of time talking to her that night. She was just a woman I went to school with, that now was married to the man she used to date in high school. I was very impressed by her though. She was so upbeat, and still cracked me up.
Over the next several years, I would run into her once in a while. Sometimes I would say hello and keep walking, and sometimes I would just keep walking. I figured she wouldn't remember me, and even if she did, it wasn't like we were friends or anything. She was just a woman I went to school with who happened to be the mother of my nephew's biological cousins. She was still very upbeat, and made me laugh, but I didn't make any effort to get to know her better.
Then fate stepped in, and she moved into Wagon Wheel Apartments. I had lived there most of my adult life, and was SOOO excited to see someone familiar to talk to. She had been through a very painful divorce, and her mother was going through some of the same kind of stuff, so we all kind of bonded on the "Men are Jerks" basis at first.
I knew some of her secrets before she even told them to me because the rumor mill is so strong in that community, but until she told her story, and her family's story, I didn't want to believe the rumors.
I had heard there was a lot of abuse of many different kinds going on in her life from an early age, and that her mother and sister had suffered some of the same abuse, but until we got to know each other REALLY well, she kept most of the pain inside. Anyone who met her or even knew her for years would have a hard time believing all she went through. She was just so HAPPY and POSITIVE and UPBEAT all the time.
I will never forget the day her mother died. For the first time in all the years I knew her, Suz was "down". I don't just mean she was sad, devastated, or depressed about her mother being gone. The light was gone. She was as dead as her mother. It was like a gate opened, and for the first time in over 14 years, she let me see her "bad life". Not that she had done anything wrong, but the things that she had been through that were so bad. She poured out her heart to me about all the things that had happened, and how it had affected her and her family. She told me about having Cancer shortly after we got out of high school, and how she had beat it with natural cures, because her mother had such strong faith in them, yet her mother couldn't be saved.
I got a glimpse into how horrible her life was, then {BLINK} she was moving on, feeling better (at least outwardly), and ready to face the world again. She was the strong one, helping everyone around her deal with their challenges. She was so funny, upbeat, and just one of those people who was always looking at the cup as completely full when everyone else was debating whether it was half empty or half full.
We shared a lot during the next few years. One favorite pastime was going to the local bar to sing karaoke. Her boyfriend ran the music for a while, and though we didn't drink, we always left there "drunk" with laughter and silliness. Another time we brought home some Tiramasu from Johnny Carinos, and ate it off each other's chest. From that point, we were Tara and Suz with the friends who knew about it. We were friends, and so much more.
In 2002 she found out the leukemia was back. She started the same treatment she had used when she was younger, and was confident it would work, but in May, she was walking up the stairs to her apartment and her spleen burst. She called an ambulance, and was rushed into emergency surgery with a slim chance of survival because her blood counts were so low from the leukemia. No one had a chance to say goodbye before they took her away. Soon after the surgery, her ex went to court to get custody of the kids. She spent about 3 months in the hospital trying to battle the side effects of not having a spleen complicated by the leukemia and her diabetes, then came home to continue fighting the leukemia the "natural way". Then in November the doctor told her she had to have chemo and a bone marrow transplant or she would die. She spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, and Valentines Day in the hospital fighting for her life on a daily basis because the treatments for the Cancer were causing complications with her diabetes, and vice versa.
She came home in Feb 2003 "in remission". She got a job, and spent 3 months fighting to get her kids back, finally getting granted physical custody "for whatever period she remained healthy". She thanked God for getting her through it all, for the ability to work, and for allowing her to have her kids back.
On New Years Day 2005, she found out the leukemia was back. She went back to Salt Lake to have more chemo and another bone marrow transplant. It didn't make her as sick this time, and she didn't lose as much hair, but by Feb 1st, the doctors had done all they could do, and the "rogue cells" had taken over her body, so she came home to live life to the fullest for as long as possible. Her job was gone, her kids were gone (not physically, just custody), and her house was gone. She thanked God for the chance to say goodbye and that she could plan her own funeral.
I was sitting in my living room on February 23rd, and got a call from a friend. She was calling to find out what happened with Suz. I thought she had just found out about the latest bout with Cancer, so I started talking about it, and she blurted out, "I just can't believe she is gone! When I saw the paper this morning..." I started crying and ran to the door to get my paper, and there it was; Suz had passed away on the 20th. I was shocked and devastated. After all, I was sure that when her light left this world, there would be some kind of sign. An earthquake or a power outage or something. How could she just slip away unnoticed after being such a bright part of my world for so long?
She tried to teach me to live in the moment, not to re-live the past or fear the future. She taught me that "just a girl you once knew" can become your whole world and change your life forever. Most of all, she taught me not to lose a chance to get to know "just a girl".

Ungrateful? or just tired of hoping

2009-12-29T05:00:00.004-07:00

In this 2nd 40 years, I am trying so hard to live in the present, and not let the past or the future cloud my choices. I want to hope for the best instead of assuming the worst. The first 40 years were "Murphy's Law" years, and that attitude didn't work for me, but sometimes, no matter how hard I am trying, it seems like certain patterns crop up and I feel like I have fallen through some "time warp". I feel like I am re-living some unpleasant period in my life, and I want sooo much to handle it different this time, but I am not sure how.

About 16 years ago, I met a really nice guy. He was funny, compassionate, spiritual, and my then 3 year old son fell in love with him instantly. I had had a very scary marriage and divorce, so I was determined not to ever fall in love and get married again. I did like having him around, though, and we became very good friends.

As time passed, he began to pressure me a little to get married, and the more he pushed, the more I hardened my heart against it. I just wasn't willing to say "Never".

After three years it seemed like everyone around me was pushing me to marry him. My grandmother had a dream, and told me she felt VERY STRONGLY that I was supposed to marry him. My son was already calling him Daddy, and asked me if "we" could marry him. My best friends, who had been nervous about me being his friend because of his "skeletons", suddenly were singing his praises constantly. So the next time he brought it up, I said yes. Even then, I prayed a lot, wording my prayers a different way each time, trying to get permission from God NOT to marry him, but I just kept getting the answer that it was the right thing to do(but only in my heart. In my head, fear kept telling me not to do it.)

Then the day of the wedding arrived, and I was standing in front of him, and I fell in love with him right there. I know that sounds funny. I actually loved him as a friend all along, so it wasn't a big leap, but when I said "I do", it was like at that instant all doubts, all fears, all the pain of my previous marriage was gone, and I could honestly say I was free to "be in love" again. I was full of hope.

Then the problems started. I imagined "happily ever after". It wasn't anything like that. Not that my husband didn't try. He had his faults before the marriage, and still had them after, but he didn't turn into a beast or anything. I did. I suffered a lot of losses (deaths, moves,the end of relationships) during the year we married, and I didn't handle it well. I fell into a river of depression, and everytime he threw me a lifeline, another wave (loss) would hit me, and I would lose my grip again. He spent a lot of time standing on the side of the river, calling out encouragement, while I was drowning and cursing him for not jumping in and dying with me. I couldn't understand then that it was healthier for him to "stay out of the water". I just felt alone and scared, and he was safe and dry, and I began to hate him for it. Then he did the "best" thing he could do. He did something I could use against him to make myself the victim in the relationship, and him the "bad guy". I got my way. Now he was "drowning" too. The problem was that his river was different, and we were both alone. We got divorced, and I cursed God for giving me hope for a happy marriage in the first place. I was happier before, when I had been determined not to fall in love or get married. Why would he take away the Level 6 happiness, give me the hope of Level 10 happiness, only to drop me to Level 0?

That was 12 years ago, and I have learned a lot and (hopefully) grown up a little since then, but I sometimes find myself in similar situations where I question the wisdom of HOPE.

I moved into a great apartment almost 4 years ago, and envisioned growing old and dying here. I am not a big fan of change, and REALLY hate the actual moving process, so I planned to plant my roots very deep in this neighborhood. I have wonderful managers, great neighbors, an excellent ward, and the apartment itself is just the right size.

Two months ago, I found out my rent was going to increase by $90 starting in February. (They changed the rules about how many rooms you can have, and I only qualify for 2 bedrooms now) I knew I couldn't afford that, so I started looking for somewhere else to live (half-heartedly). I kept hoping for a miracle, and spent a lot of days and nights crying and praying about how unfair life is. I just wanted to be able to stay "home". When people asked what I wanted for Christmas, I would reply, "To be able to stay in my apartment". As time passed, I began to realize Santa wasn't going to save me, and I got more serious about my search.

This past Saturday, I found the "perfect" apartment. It was big, the kids loved it, the manager was someone I knew and felt comfortable with, and I could afford it (with the subsidy from ID housing). I filled out the application, told everyone at church the next day where we were moving, and packed 9 boxes. During all of it, I cried a lot, and got more and more depressed, then more and more determined to look at the bright side. By the time I went to bed Sunday night, I was looking forward to the change, if not the physical part of moving. I was full of hope.

On Monday, the tornado hit. I called Idaho Housing (Gaynor) on my way to drop off the application for my new apartment. She told me I need to give them a copy of my 30 day notice and make an appointment to recertify. Then I can get my voucher and "start looking for a new place to live". I told her that I already found a place and was dropping off the application that day. She told me not to, that I would be responsible for the full rent until the voucher comes through "in a couple weeks". I went to the new apartment manager and told him what I had been told, and he told me not to worry about it, so I left the paperwork with him. Then I called my current manager (Lorene) to see if she wanted a copy of the "official" 30 day notice because the one I gave her at the beginning of the month was just on a sticky note. She called me back a little while later to say she had called the owner (Mary) to inform her about me moving and found out I am under lease until March. She also said she had talked to Mary and she was willing to come down on the rent enough to make it possible for me to stay.

By that time, I had arrived at a funeral I was attending, and had to put it all on hold for a couple hours.

I called Gaynor back, got voicemail, and asked about my lease and how a lower rent would affect me. When she got back to me, I was buying gas, and missed the call, but she told me she would crunch some numbers (if I would let her know how much Mary would be willing to drop the rent) and get back to me about a ballpark number I would be paying in rent. I called Lorene, found out it would be $500 instead of $595, called Gaynor back, left a message, and waited for her to get back to me.

By that time I was at my sister's to pick up my daughter, and feeling like pulling my hair out from all the back and forth emotions. When Gaynor called me, she said Mary would be calling to tell me the figures. They had discussed it all, and I guess she didn't want to repeat it all for me. She DID say that Mary is willing to work with me, but wants me to sign a year's lease. She also told me that my portion was going to be $358, not $326 like she told me in November (if the rent stayed at $595).

At this point, I thought I would be jumping up and down with joy. I got what I had wanted since November. I will probably be staying put. Instead, I am crying harder than before. I worked so hard to convince myself that the move was a good thing that I (and the kids) started to believe it. I stressed myself out for 2 months for nothing. I should be thrilled that I can stay, but instead, this experience has just made me feel like I don't want to unpack those 9 boxes, because I can't count on how long it will be before I have to pack them again. This isn't "home" anymore.

I don't want to hope anymore.

Difficult Choices, Judgements, etc.

2009-10-18T08:45:00.000-06:00

I have had migraines since I was 7 years old, but it has just been in the past 10-15 years that they have been severe enough or frequent enough to affect my life or work abilities. I have not been able to work since March of this year, and have spent the past 8 months doing more tests, trying new meds, etc., trying to find that "magic combination" that will free me from the pain so I can have a "normal" life.
We (my doctor and I) have found one medicine that is helping, but I just recently figured out that the side effects are worse than the migraines it is preventing. I had been having increasing episodes of forgetfulness, blackouts, and just a general feeling of being disconected from my body. One person described me as a zombie. I had mentioned this to my doctor, and asked if it could be the medication I was on, and he said "It might be, but I doubt it. Let's reduce the dose and see what happens." So I reduced the dose, and the problem didn't go away.
I started to get worried because I had had similar symptoms before when my potassium levels dipped down too low. I decided to start taking some potassium supplements to see if they would help. They didn't.
Then I went to see my doctor again, and his "partner" saw me instead. Because he had never seen me, and hadn't been aware of all the conversations we had had, he questioned why we hadn't increased the dosage to try decreasing my headaches even more. I explained the symptoms I was having, and how we had tried decreasing the dosage with no success, and he said, "Well, then it must not be that medication, let's increase the dosage and see if we can get rid of these headaches for you." He also prescribed another medication that he had "seen good results with". So I went from 25mg in the morning and 25mg at night, to 25mg and 75mg, and started a new med.
Within days, I went from not being able to sleep past 4, to not being able to sleep past 2:30. My forgetfulness and occasional blackouts became a 24 hr condition; I couldn't remember the names of common household items, I didn't dare drive, I would forget to eat (or feed my kids) until one of the kids would say they were hungry, then couldn't remember how to make the simplest things like cold cereal. I could/would focus very hard, and "break through the fog" when I really needed to, like when trying to remember how to cook something, but it was literally like having to take a dozen "blankets" off my brain each time I wanted to focus on something, and as soon as I finished a task, and let my mind relax at all, the fog would roll back in. I was exhausted from the effort, frustrated by the inability to do the simplest things, scared that something was seriously wrong, etc., but I was partly reassured by the fact that my doctor knew how I was feeling and he wasn't concerned. I also "knew" it wasn't the medication, cuz he said it wasn't. (right?) After 2 weeks of feeling like I was brain dead, and that my body just hadn't stopped moving yet, I mentioned my frustration to my counselor. She suggested I talk to the pharmacist.
I approached the pharmacist, and as I fumbled with my words, telling him what medication I was taking, he finished my sentence, "And you want to know if the medication is the reason you feel like a zombie, right?" I nodded and started crying. (Finally! someone who understands) He explained that the medication I am on was causing my symptoms WITHOUT A DOUBT and that the higher the dose and the longer I take it, the worse off I will get.
I asked him how anyone would choose to feel this way, and he told me that most people with migraines feel like they don't have a choice. They can have EXTREME pain that prevents them from holding a job, driving a car, & basically functioning on a day to day basis, or they can take this medication that prevents them from holding a job, driving a car, or basically functioning on a day to day basis, but without pain. He told me I am the only one who can decide what kind of "box" I want to be in. I can keep taking the meds and be pain free, but nearly helpless, or I can risk having the migraines come back. I asked if there was anything else that doesn't do that to you, and he said, "Not as effective as the one you are on."
I took a couple of days to think and pray about it, and made an appointment with my doctor to wean myself off the meds. When I told him how I felt, he dropped another bomb. The medicine I had been taking was actually an anti-seizure medication, and the reason I was feeling that way was because the medication "can cause mini seizures in some people".
I have worked my way down to just 25mg at night, and have not had any migraines for almost 3 weeks. I still have occasional forgetfulness and feel a little jittery in the evenings, and I still can't sleep past 2:30 most mornings, but I can function again. I am not so naive that I think I am cured, but if I can even keep the migraines down to one or two a week, that will be an improvement over the way my life was in March. I am just taking one day at a time, and being thankful for each day without a headache or a seizure.
This whole experience has opened my eyes to something else though. While I was walking around in this "fog", I attended a family event and overheard some family gossiping about an aunt of mine. Some comments made were, "She just sits, staring into space", "If she isn't in a daze, she is in pain", "I don't know why she even bothers to come if she isn't going to participate", etc.
I have an aunt that as far back as I can remember, she has been "sick". Every family function she has attended, she just looks miserable, and her family usually comes late and leaves early. In my mid-twenties, I found out she suffers from migraines, but at that point in my life, my migraines were still in the mid-range and far-between, so I had no idea what kind of pain she was going through then. When her husband described "suicidal" migraines, I thought maybe she was just a little more sensitive to pain than I was. Now I know what those feel like, and as I listened to her extended family talking about her, I realized she probably was taking the same medication (or a similar one) as I was. It explained her behaviour at all the family things. The zombie-type behaviour, the inability to communicate in coherent sentences, or the outright avoidance of any contact. All the time I was growing up, I just thought she was strange. Now I have seen through her eyes, and realize how unfairly I have judged.

A little girl, A woman's idea, A couple dollars, A purse

2009-10-09T10:07:00.000-06:00

My cousin posted a blog about a little girl with cancer named Taylie http://www.tayliebug.com/Index.html and another one about a woman who wanted to help her http://adashofseason.blogspot.com/ that I wanted to share with everyone. If you add this to your blog or Facebook wall, then let the woman know, her friend will donate $2 to Taylie's family, and you get a chance for a purse.

Divorce is like...

2009-09-29T07:01:00.001-06:00

One of my close friends just got divorced from one of my relatives, and it has been a very good thing for her. I am very happy for her, and hope that it stays a good thing for her, but from my past experience, and the experience of many of my friends and family, it isn't always a completely happy event. There is/could be a mourning period much like one feels with a death.
I have come up with some analogies (with the input of people over the years) that are perhaps a little vulgar and harsh, but many of them comes pretty close. (Most of these come from people who have gotten divorced after an abusive marriage)
Divorce is like giving birth to a stillborn child. You spend months (years) nurturing another person, sacrificing your own happiness at times, for the sake of that other life, giving up things you used to be able to do because you have to consider how it will affect "it". There are moments of pain and discomfort, but you don't complain, because you love "it", and you are willing to put up with the pain for the sake of "it". As the time passes, the pain gets more intense, and more frequent, but still, you hold on, because "it will all be worth it". "It" may kick, stretch, even be toxic to you, causing you to be bedridden or hospitalized, but you love "it" and you are determined to "carry it" as long as possible. Then one day, you find out this "child" you have nurtured, carried, loved and nearly died for is gone. Not only do you not have "it" (marriage/love), but you still have to go through the pain of delivery (mediation), funeral (court), and then all the firsts (first night, week, month, year, family gathering, holiday without "it")
Divorce is like pouring two kinds of liquid into a glass, then deciding you want to seperate them. No matter how you try, there is no way for either of you to ever come away with the exact amount, or even the exact type of liquid you put in. A small part of each other's liquid will go with each of you.
When you get married, you sew your lives together, one stitch at a time. As time goes by, some of those stitches wear out, and get loose, and if you don't repair them, the marriage can fall apart. Sometimes the marriage is so volatile that the two people are ripped apart, leaving bleeding holes where the thread used to hold them together. If a marriage has to end, the most healthy way to do it, is to gently pull the threads out, with the help of a professional. There will still be scars, but you will heal a lot faster.

Jasen Foster

2009-09-22T08:25:00.000-06:00

Jasen Foster was one of those kind of guys who seemed to have everything. He was good looking, he was a good athlete, and despite being confident, he was nice. He was just an all around, typical high school boy.

Then one day at football practice, fate stepped in, and Jason was paralyzed on the right side. With extensive therapy, he regained partial use of his right arm and hand, but has been in a wheelchair ever since.

I was one of the lucky people who was asked to help Jason from class to class when he came back to school that first year because we had some common classes. I got to know him pretty well, and learned very fast that he was still the wise-cracking intelligent (slightly) prideful person he was before the accident. The only difference was that a lot of people could only see the wheelchair and curled up right hand, so they assumed his brain was mangled too. Oh if they only knew the conversations we had!!

I think Jason was one of the reasons I chose the type of work I do. Before his accident, I never knew how to approach someone with a disability. I was always afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. But with Jason, I realized he was a person before, he was still a person after. It shouldn't matter whether he was in a chair, whether it was a little bit harder for me to understand the words he was saying, or whether his right hand could grasp mine when he held my hand. He was still Jason. If someone had a problem dealing with him, I saw that as THEIR problem, not his. I feel that way every time I meet a new client. Each one has a different personality, but each one is just like Jason. They are "someone" inside of their disability.

I didn't realize while we were in school, but Jason and I have a family connection. His mother and my great-uncle are siblings. Just this past weekend, my GREAT aunt and uncle were celebrating their 60th anniversary, and I got to see Jason again after about 10 years. He is still going strong, and hasn't changed a bit (except some gray hairs). Just like every other time I see him, I gave him a hug, told him I love him, and left him feeling like one of the luckiest people in the world for having him in my life.

A Busy Life is a Happy Life

2009-09-22T06:33:00.000-06:00

Ever since I stopped working, I have been thankful for the days off when I have one of my "bad" headaches (the level 8-12 ones), but when I have the lower level headaches, I get pretty bored and frustrated.

One blessing has been my niece Alicen. My sister brings her to visit when she has to work, so I at least have someone to take care of during the day. Of course I still have my slightly disabled 19 year old son, too, but he mostly just needs supervision, not "babysitting". I really look forward to the days she comes, and dread the days my sister has off.

Weekends used to be my only days off, and I would look forward to them as a time I could recuperate and rest from the hard work of the week, but now I look forward to them for a very different reason. It is the only time everyone else is off work, and we can spend time together. This past weekend was packed especially full.

My sister worked Saturday morning, and came to my house for lunch, then we went to Spud Days in Shelley for about an hour. They had 3 different bathrooms set up, but the lines were so long at each of them, that we waited for 1/2 hour just to get in one. We spent the other 1/2 hour looking around at the booths.

Then we headed for Pocatello for Fayne (Reid) and Maxcine Jardine's 60th wedding anniversary. I got to see one of my favorite people there: Jason Foster (see post about him). Most of the Jardines were there, Uncle Dennis & Aunt Jerrilee, Garon & Norma, Earl and Gaye, and us were the only "Browers" there. Just as we were leaving, Aunt LaRee showed up.

We got back to Idaho Falls just in time for our ward party. It was held at Sealander Park, and it was really fun. They had a lot of things planned, but most of us just enjoyed sitting around talking and visiting.

There was one game that was a big hit, though. A two-person team would be blindfolded, and given pudding cups to feed each other. They were supposed to give each other instructions to their mouths, but of course it never turned out that way. My daughter ended up painting a "bib" on her partner.

I had a "level 8" headache most of the day, and didn't have as much fun as I could have had, but I definitely preferred the busy-ness of it over the idleness of some of the days I have had since I stopped working.

Just a "little" smudge on the clean slate....

2009-09-16T10:50:00.000-06:00

Okay, so it has only been about 2 weeks since I said I was going to try to make the next 40 years more upbeat, and the last couple of days have been a little bit of the "old stuff". Not as bad as usual, but I have had 3 days and 2 nights of LEVEL 10-12 headaches, and I fell into the old "poor me" "why me" "God must be punishing me for something" thinking that tends to put me into a downward spiral toward a deep depression. I have done as much as I could as far as functioning as a mother and a person, but deep inside, I felt like my kids would be so much better with a different mother; someone who could keep a job, or at least if I can't keep a job, be able to go pick my daughter up when she is sick. I was having a level 12 headache, and she was having a stomachache, so I shuffled into her school, trying to block the light and sound with one hand on my right eye and my shoulders hunched against my ears, knowing how ridiculous I looked, but knowing how much it would hurt if I didn't do it. Even then, the noise level in the school brought tears to my eyes, so I was standing in the hall, signing her out, with one hand over my eye, one hand signing her out, tears pouring down my face, and waiting for her to come from her classroom, and thinking "my poor daughter deserves a mom who can pick her up from school without embarrassing her" I have had a lot of days like this in my life, but I was really trying not to have any in my "2nd half of life". It just was too much after 2 days and nights of that level of pain.

I thought a lot of my friend Suzanne during the painful nights when I couldn't sleep, and how she was in so much pain with her cancer, and how she still managed to stay positive about life, and I would talk to her, asking her why she was so much stronger than me or why I couldn't seem to "get over" my pity party, but didn't get any answers.

Then last night, when I was still suffering from a level 8-9 headache at bedtime, there was a special about Patrick Swayze, and he was talking about his cancer, and how it was so important to him to work right up until the end, and how he wouldn't even take his pain meds because it would make it hard for him to remember his lines. Again, I thought to myself, "What makes him stronger than me? Why can he be in so much pain and see so much positives about life? How can he choose pain in order to give pleasure to his fans instead of relief to be able to die in peace? What drives a person to keep pushing forward instead of saying (like I do) 'Why me' 'What did I do to deserve this' or something like that?"

I don't want to "Should on myself" (a phrase used by therapists), but I feel like I should be able to "smile through the pain" too, if I would just put my mind to it, but when I have one of these headaches, it is the closest to suicide I think I could ever come. I could never, EVER, take my own life, but it is the only time in my life that I would welcome death. I have even had fantasies about drilling a hole in my head to release the pressure. Or putting my head in a vice to equalize the pressure. All of these things are just fantasies, fleeting thoughts that I could /would never actually do, but as you can see, we aren't talking about a small amount of pain here. I feel like a prisoner to the pain, being tortured by an unseen force with unbelievable pain on a regular basis, and no one can tell me why.

I woke this morning with a mere 5 headache, and I am soooo happy!!! and almost like having a baby, I don't remember exactly what the pain was like, but the emotions behind the pain are fresh enough that I know I don't want to go through it ever again. But also similar to having a baby, just having it behind me is sooo nice that I am thankful for the concept of opposition. If not for yesterday and the 2 days before it, a 5 headache would really be the pits!!!, but in comparison, it is such a blessing.

So, maybe I can just put the word PAIN or HEADACHE in permanent ink on my slate, in tiny little letters up in a corner somewhere, and allow myself to have one pity party a month over it or something. Just one day? Nope. That is what I am doing this for. Put it all down, get it out of my system, start tomorrow with a clean slate. :)

"Mandy"

2009-09-10T07:21:00.000-06:00

Mandy is a woman I met in a Battered Women's group. It is anonymous, and they discourage us from talking about what is said in the group outside the group, so I am not going to use her real name or go into her private stuff too much, but I will say that she had a REALLY rough childhood, and has had (is still) having some pretty rough patches in her marriage. She just wants to feel like she has hope for some happiness some day.

She reminds me a lot of my "breast" friend Suzanne Price Averett, and I have formed a strong attachment to her. I look forward to seeing her each week, and hearing about the small steps she is taking to fix her situation. She is NOT Suzanne, I know that, but sometimes I think I see someone inside Mandy who is a lot like Suzanne. She is strong and funny and positive and fun to be around. The problem is that very early on, that person was buried by Mandy's family and husband, and she only peeks out every once in a while in group. She is too afraid to come out anywhere else.

This past week, we were doing a questionnaire, and one of the questions was "One thing you might never guess about me is..." and she answered "I think about suicide a lot"

I immediately burst into tears. I couldn't help myself. After all I went through, losing Suz, I just couldn't imagine losing Mandy too. Especially if she killed herself. I know it was selfish on my part, but I told her how much I would miss her and asked her to think about that if she ever reached the point where she was going to go through with it. I begged her to remember that she will never be totally alone. No matter how bad things get with her family or her husband or work or school or whatever, I WILL CARE IF SHE DIES. I was saying all of this with tears pouring down my cheeks, because I felt like it might be the last time I was going to see her at that point. Later, I realized I was overreacting, and might have scared her, but I knew she was someone I didn't want to just casually talk to each week, then forget about until the next session, and I wanted her to know that. I wanted her to know she was important to me.

Matt

2009-09-08T07:14:00.000-06:00

Matt was my soul mate. Not in the "we were meant to find each other and fall in love" kind of way. He was like my twin that somehow got sent to earth 364 days too late. I was in love with his brother, but I loved him with all my heart. He was my other half. We used to lay with our left cheeks together, resting on each other's shoulder, with our legs going in opposite directions. It was as close as we could get to each other, with our hearts beating next to each other, our left ears touching, every breath or word like a whisper. We would tell stories and jokes, or talk about our day. Sometimes we would just lay there, silently breathing, holding our left hands.

We had more rambunctious times too. He and I were pretty evenly matched physically, because he was kind of small for a long time, and I was a girl, so I could usually take him in any contest of strength up until we were in jr. high or high school, but it didn't stop him from trying. He could be like a pesky little brother sometimes too. haha

I would be lying if I said we never let physical attraction get between us, but the best part of the relationship for me was the quiet moments when we were just two kids living like we were sharing one heart, one head, one hand and one breath.

Roger

2009-09-05T13:29:00.000-06:00

Roger Rose was one of the best friends I ever had, but he was much more than that. He is one of the romantic relationships I measure every other romantic relationship against, and no one else has been able to measure up.

The first time I met Roger, I was at a friend's house, and he and his younger brother came over to "play". It was the summer before 4th grade, and I had never met other kids like them. They cussed and spit like teenagers. I kind of knew their grandma, and their uncle Ben wasn't much older than us, so I got to know them very well, very fast.

Almost from day one, I was fascinated with Roger. He was kind of quiet, and maybe even shy if you got technical about it. But he had this aura about him that just made me feel protected and safe around him. It was like I had to be so tough around my brother and keep a protective shell around myself, and I would walk around like this puffed up porcupine, but whenever Roger was there, I became this soft little kitten, content to curl up on his lap and be held and protected. I knew I always had a safe place with him.

That was one of the complications in our relationship, though. I wanted to believe that I didn't NEED anyone. I hated that he could make me so soft, while at the same time I loved that he could make me feel safe. I saw the softening as weakness, and weakness in my world always lead to pain, so I tortured Roger by "scratching and clawing him" to prove I didn't need him, then realizing how much I wanted him in my life and "crawling back into his lap" over and over throughout school.

Roger had a rough childhood, and his life didn't really get any easier from there, but he was/is a very good man with a good heart who I completely trusted with my heart. That in itself makes him one in a million.

Darla

2009-09-04T17:38:00.000-06:00

Darla Phillips was "that little girl who likes horses" to me when I was really young. I don't remember why my grandma used to visit her family, but we would go at least once a month, and I was facinated with the girl who was kinda like a boy but looked like a girl. She was REALLY strong, both physically and emotionally, and definitely not shy, and I thought "If I was more like her, I wouldn't have to be afraid of anything."

Darla was unbelievably strong in my mind. In my young mind, she could handle anything. But she was also incredibly pretty. When I saw Taylor Swift for the first time, I thought of Darla. There is something about both of them that just says strong and beautiful. When we were young, a lot of people said she looked like Jodie Foster, too. She was definitely strong like most of Jodie Foster's characters.

I just looked up to Darla so much. She was younger than me, but I admired her, and loved hanging out with her. She was fun to be around and had this "bring it on" kind of attitude that gave me confidence when I was with her. Not that she was looking for a fight or anything, just that she wasn't afraid of one, and everyone knew it. I know it isn't a label generally used on females, but she was "cocky".

By the time I was 15, I wasn't as connected to her, and was unaware of what was going on with her, but I found out she got pregnant young. I think I saw her once or twice after that before I moved.

When my family moved 40 miles away, I lost touch with Darla, but I thought of her often. Everytime I went to the valley, I would pass the hill that hid her home from view, and would fantasize for just a second that if I just drove over that hill....I could turn back time and we could both be in happier times....back when she was the strongest girl in the world, and I was stronger just because she was beside me.

Mominda

2009-09-04T16:40:00.000-06:00

Melinda Moses was my moral compass (kinda tee hee). I was not sure how I felt about going to church or being part of a Mormon family during most of my teenage years, and Melinda was the only person who seemed to be able to make it clear that she had a testimony of the Church without being preachy or pressuring me to go.

I remember visiting Melinda's house when we were still in grade school, but we didn't become close friends until later. In fact, the turning point in my mind; the point when she became more than just one of my classmates who was friendly, was when we were having a Spirit Week or something, and I dressed up as a hippie. She started calling me Flower Child, and it felt like a term of endearment.

I called her Mominda because she was always telling me what I should or shouldn't be doing (in a loving way). Sometimes I would say it in a joking way, and sometimes I would put an edge on it (like when the truth hurt). Basically, she was like a big sister who just happened to be my age, and wasn't biologically related. She was always there when I needed advice, and (mostly) never led me down the wrong path.

My grandparents were never home on Wednesday nights, and my uncle thought I was having parties every week or something, so he would come check on me all the time. He trusted Melinda though, because she was a "good Mormon girl". On the other side of the coin, Melinda's dad was a little nervous about her coming to stay with me with my grandparents gone, but knowing my uncle was practically next door, and checking up on us, helped ease his mind. What neither one of them knew was that when I would go pick her up to spend the night, we would make an unscheduled stop or two on the way home (mwahahaha)

We didn't do anything we should report to our bishop or anything, but we were lying to our parents/family, and hanging out with people we KNEW they would not approve of. It made for some exciting near misses sometimes, like the time her father followed us into the driveway of the "bad boy's" house, and we had to come up with a reason we pulled in there. In a funny kind of way, that converted me more than any of her testimony baring moments. I knew she had temptations, and I knew she resisted them because she truly "lived" the gospel, even though she wasn't living it exactly the way her father expected her to. She taught me that you don't have to be perfect to be good.

One last thing I have to mention: (I might not remember this story exactly right, but I remember the concept) When Melinda and her husband were engaged, they gave up ice cream and hot fudge and peanuts and caramel and even cherries for months, just so they could have a hot fudge sundae on their wedding night. I will never forget the way that story made me feel. I knew they loved each other in an eternal way. It was just one more way she taught me.

Deno

2009-09-04T16:06:00.000-06:00

Okay, so I know I said Clean Slate, and that I am not going to look back, but I have decided that I want to give credit to the people who have played good parts in my life. I have spent so much time thinking about and talking about how hard my life was and how I didn't have very many friends or support systems, but there have been people who were bright lights in my darkness. I will commit a different blog to each one, in no particular order, so if anyone is following this and I haven't mentioned you, maybe you will be mentioned later. :)

Deno was Dean Marcum when I knew him in school. He had a white father and a Native American mother, and some of the kids teased him about it, but that was the least of his "problems". Deno was everything I wish I had the courage to be. He did what he wanted to do, and it usually was just the opposite of what everyone else our age was doing. He listened to music like Depeche Mode, when everyone else was into country and pop. He wore parachute pants, zippered jackets and one glove when everyone else was wearing wranglers and t-shirts. He was always 6 months to a year ahead of the crowd when it came to style and trends.

I was always trying to fit in. With my own family, with the kids in my neighborhood, in my church class, in my school class, with the kids who drank, the kids who expected me to sleep around, the kids who got good grades, even with the other kids who didn't fit in anywhere else. I just didn't seem to feel like I belonged anywhere. But I did fit into Deno's world. He didn't seem to care if I was tall or short, fat or thin, christian or atheist, drunk or sober, virgin or slut, genius or special-ed, spaz or whatever. He just liked me. He was like an outside piece in a puzzle, kind of helping me know where the rest of my pieces should go, and kind of helping me keep it together during a hard time in my life. I still think of him as one of my bestest friends.

Aren't I worthy enough?

2009-09-03T14:51:00.000-06:00

I have struggled my entire life with two voices in my head. Not in a "Sybil" kind of way, but I am a very smart and logical person who at the same time can be swayed by her emotions very easily. It is hard for me to explain to some people, but sometimes I can KNOW something, but not FEEL it, and sometimes it is just the opposite. For many people, that happens and they have found a way to trust one or the other. I can't trust either one. You can call it whatever you want; Knowledge vs. Faith or Logic vs. The Holy Ghost, etc. but I never know which one is TRUTH.

I have been through the temple. I had a recommend for about a year, and before I went, I poured my heart out to my bishop at the time, and told him about my doubts of worthiness. I told him that because I was a single mother who never planned to marry again, I wasn't sure if it was even worth striving for the Celestial Kingdom. He assured me that it was, and told me I may change my mind about marriage in the future, but that even if I didn't, the Lord wouldn't punish me if I was living right and if the only thing I was missing was a companion. I told him I didn't feel worthy to enter the temple, because I had been told it is a place where you make covenants and that some of them make reference to husbands and wives. He assured me that single members can attend the temple and make those covenants. I told him I worried that my past was too bad to ever really be "gone" from God's memory, and he assured me that that was not so. I left his office with my recommend, still telling him "I know I am worthy, but I don't FEEL worthy". He told me that was okay. For a year, I attended the temple at least once a week, and every time I entered, I FELT like I was sneaking in. I FELT like at any time, one of the workers was going to tell me I didn't belong there. But I KNEW I was doing the right thing, and I KNEW the bishop said I belonged there, so I kept going.

Then I made some mistakes, and instead of clearing them up, I let them snowball, and get bigger, and then once I let the guilt take hold, I FELT even less worthy to go to the temple, so I just stopped going, and eventually, the recommend expired, and I never got it renewed.

Now, over 10 years later, I am back on track, doing everything "right" and I KNOW I am worthy to go to the temple, but I don't FEEL worthy, because I am still a single mom who doesn't intend to ever get married again, I have some serious problems with some of the recent gay issues, and I still can't get over the fact that I feel like I have never been "good enough" for God. When I told the bishop all of this, he said "If you don't FEEL worthy, you can't have a recommend". I told him I KNOW I'm worthy, I just fight with myself all the time over KNOWING and FEELING, but he wouldn't give me one until I can look him in the eye and say I FEEL worthy.

Then a couple weeks later, he was in Sunday School, and he said, "If any of you are even close to being worthy to go to the temple, please come to me, and we will get you there". I felt like he was basically saying he is desperate for people to get to the temple, but just not me.

If I didn't raise my hand to sustain her, do I have to?

2009-09-03T14:21:00.000-06:00

Okay, so I have had my complaints/doubts about the LDS church over the years, and sometimes I let the PEOPLE drive me away instead of staying faithful because I know what I believe and know that they are the ones who are wrong, not the church itself, but lately, it seems like I am having to justify/defend my ward in my mind more than I ever had to in the past. The strange thing is that the more the people upset me, the more I want to go to church to let them know they can't drive me away, but at the same time, I find myself in a position where I don't feel like I can sustain certain people in their positions. I am not sure what to do about that. I would approach the bishop about it, but I am just a little bit upset with him right now too. (see next blog)

A certain sister in my ward, who has a certain amount of authority over me (let's just say, I have to report to her) has been pressuring me and my son to get into one or more of her "multi-level marketing" businesses. She has several, and each one is "guaranteed" to make us money. She knows we are living on Social Security and food stamps, and has made comments like "The Lord wants you to be self sufficient; you need to support your family; this is one way you could do that" I have tried to gently tell her that I am not interested, but she keeps pressuring me.

Another thing she won't let up on is my health. I am not healthy. I know that. I am at least 150 lbs overweight, and have problems sleeping, extreme migraines, and now that I am getting older, it is getting harder for me to just get around with all the extra weight. I don't complain too much, but when someone asks "How are you?" and I am having one of my "suicidal" headache days, I will say "Not so good, I am having one of my bad days" or something like that. She is SURE that some herbs she sells, or some water she drinks will cure me. (in addition to the fact that if I would just eat less and exercise more of course) I have started drinking the "miracle" water, because it is free, and she isn't the only one who suggested it, but it isn't just that she suggests these things. It is how she does it. It is always like "Have you tried [insert miracle herb]? It would really help." I tell her I have/haven't, whether it worked or not, whether I will or will not try it, and then get something like "If you aren't willing to try solutions, then you really can't complain, can you?"

I am just at a point where I really want to have a positive attitude; I don't want bad feelings toward this woman or anyone else, but I am tired of being the "nice" little doormat who just smiles and acts like nothing is wrong. So I am venting here, then I am going to work up the courage to talk to this woman and a few other ward members who I feel I need to make aware of their hurtful comments toward me, so I can go to church without resentment. Clean slate.

40 is FABULOUS (so far)

2009-09-03T13:56:00.000-06:00

I have looked forward to the BIG 4-0 for a long time, and didn't really know why, but as it approached, and my classmates were all complaining and saying how bad it was, I just kept telling myself how different it was going to be for me. I wasn't sure why, I just KNEW. Then it just came to me on the day after my birthday...My childhood was not so great; I was in a big hurry to grow up and get away from home. My teens were pretty much more of the same, only there was the added pressure of "getting good grades so I could graduate and get into a good college". Then the 20s were all about "getting a husband, having a dozen kids, and getting a good job". The 30s were about "advancing in your career, making sure your kids are getting into the right afterschool programs so they can succed, etc." and for me, the 20s and 30s were about doing all of that alone because I was a single parent. Subconsciously, I think I figured that once I hit 40, I could finally relax. I don't have to prove anything. I don't have to be on the fast track anymore. I am who I am, I have reached the middle of my life (come on, you know it is true; most of my relatives make it into their mid 80s, so 40 is about halfway there) and I intend to enjoy the second half. I don't want to worry about it the way I worried during the first half. I don't want to dread tomorrow or regret yesterday so much that I can't enjoy today. I know my nature and "self talk" will sometimes get the better of me; it has taken me 40 years to become the anxious, depressed, worrier that I am, so I can't expect to just be a whole different person overnight, but I am more determined than ever before that I don't want to "ruin" this half of my life. It is like I see a blank slate in front of me, and I don't want to fill it up with the nonsense I have on my old one. Just the good stuff this time. :)

Hypocrite or Learned from my own mistakes?

2009-08-12T08:44:00.000-06:00

I have never been "mentally healthy". I know that, my family knows that, and anyone who I have been completely honest with knows that. I can see things very logically, but emotionally, I can't seem to follow my logical brain to that place called "normal" or "happy" or "content". I have had "better" times and "worse" times, but my typical self is depressed and anxious and hopeless. I can fake it pretty good, and can "logic" myself into getting through one more day, one day at a time, but honestly, I don't really see a future that is any better than my past. One thing I have been able to do is learn what has worked and what hasn't. That doesn't mean the emotional part of me won't keep trying the same old stuff, expecting to get a different outcome, but the logical part knows from the first step where I am headed. The trick is, getting the logical person to overcome the emotional person without losing touch with my emotions.

Sooo, I went through a really tough time when my son was younger, and there were times I probably shouldn't have been left alone with him. I was spending a lot of time "outside of myself", and there were at least a couple of times that I got up in the morning, and realized that I had lost a whole day. I had been home with my son, he was still alive, but I didn't remember if I had fed him, he was still wearing the clothes he had on 2 days before, etc. I felt guilty enough to get the help I needed to at least get well enough to stop the "blackouts", and no one (besides my counselor) ever knew how irresponsible I had been.

Now I have a brother who is going through some of the same problems, and I feel so bad for him. I know he has a lot to deal with, and his brain just needs to "rest and reset", and lucky for him he is not a single parent like I was. But despite all the pleading and explaining I have tried to do, his wife doesn't understand that these blackouts are not something he can schedule or stop. She thinks he just doesn't want to be responsible. She wants/needs to run errands and take care of her father for a couple of hours a day, and needs to be able to leave the kids with him. So, it is just a risk they have to take.

I worried about it, obsessed about it, got all holier than thou about it, called her up and lectured her about it, even tried to set up a family counseling session with his counselor about it, but all I accomplished was alienating him and some of my other family in the process.

Now I wonder....am I a hypocrite for butting in and trying to force them to fix it, when I kept my problem secret, and it ended up turning out okay? Or am I butting in because I feel guilty for what happened in my past and don't want it to go on as long with them as it did with me? Or am I just a BUTT?

What class is this anyway?

2009-08-12T08:04:00.000-06:00

Okay, I have been debating whether to air my frustration on here or whether to just let it go or whether to go to my bishop, and finally decided that it is mostly MY problem, and because I can't let it go, I need to just put it down on "paper" and hope the action of complaining to "cyberspace" will let me release it.

I complained a few weeks ago about a Sunday School class that turned into a gay bashing session, and how much it upset me, and I guess I am still feeling a little resentful toward that sister. I can talk to her as a neighbor, and even in Relief Society with no ill feelings, but each time she steps up to teach the lesson in Sunday School, I tense up, waiting for the "lecture". Well, as they say about self fulfilling prophesies; I wasn't disappointed.

This sister is also our visiting teaching coordinator, and there have been a couple of times that she has gotten up at the beginning of Relief Society to gently remind us that not everyone is getting their teaching done. It has never been done in a way that made me have bad feelings toward her. But this past week, she was teaching a Sunday School lesson on baptisms for the dead, and when she was done, her voice rose an octave, and she started telling the men that they needed to start encouraging their wives to get their visiting teaching done because there are 60 women in the ward who aren't getting taught on a regular basis. Then she went on and on, getting more and more "evangelical" about how they are sitting home waiting for just one person to care, just one visit or phone call, etc. and how the sisters who are supposed to be visiting them aren't doing their jobs, etc.

My partner and I are doing our job each month. Not just to match a quota, but we really love the people we visit. We look forward to the scheduled time we go, counting down the days. We go out of our way to sit by them at church cuz we like to be around them. It isn't just a number we cross off each month. BUT I am probably one of the 60 women this sister is talking about.

My visiting teachers both live(d) in the same apt complex as I do, within 50 ft of my door. One of them moved out the 1st of July, and I don't know if they gave the other one a new partner or not, but I have not had a scheduled, sit-down visit for at least 3 months.

As I sat there listening to this sister rant and rave (again), I was hurt and saddened deeply. Not because I was guilty of anything. I was the victim in her estimation. But as far as I am concerned, I am not just a number or a statistic for her to use for her campaign. The sister who is assigned to come to me each month doesn't call me up and make an appointment. She doesn't come into my home and sit down. She doesn't bring a lesson from the Ensign or some other Church resource. But when I come home or leave the house, and she is outside, she asks how things are going. When she notices me cringing at the sight of the sun, she knows I am having one of my bad headaches and she asks if there is anything she can do to help (make dinner, call someone to give me a blessing, etc.) When I am running late and know I am not going to be home in time to get my daughter off the bus, I know I can call her and she will keep her company until I get home. Maybe that isn't enough to satisfy the standards set for a "real" visit so that I can be counted for the month, but frankly, I would rather have a friend and a neighbor than a Visiting Teacher anyway. One does it out of duty, the other out of choice. I just got lucky, and got both.

I want to go home....and be happy

2009-07-03T07:27:00.001-06:00

I have had a bad few days, and don't really know what caused them. In trying to dig into my subconcious, I may have found some "straws", but none should have broken the camel's back.

On Sunday, I went for a drive through Teton Valley, and when we were passing my grandparent's old house, we noticed one of their old trucks in the yard, so we pulled in to make sure it was what we saw. It was, and we were just turning around when the guy who owns the house pulled in and asked if he could help us. (as if we were tresspassing!) My dad explained who we were, and they talked about the truck and how big the trees were getting, etc. and the guy told us he had "fixed up" the inside of the house. He invited us to go in and see it, but I just wasn't ready to see it. If it was too much the same, it would be hard to see, but if it was too different, it would be even harder. All the way home, I just kept wondering if I should have just gotten it over with. I even started playing with the idea of calling the guy to see how much they are renting it out for. (Later, Dalton said he wanted to see it, but was afraid to ask)

Monday was the 9th anniversary of my grandmother's death. The first couple of years were devastating, and I still feel a pang of loss when something happens that I would have liked her here for, but I didn't even realize it was her "death day" until Wednesday after I had been severely depressed for a couple days and started digging for clues. Her death started the process that ended in my grandparents house being sold to a stranger, so maybe the 2 events are connected in my subconscious, but it just doesn't seem like a strong enough reason to feel the way I have been feeling.

Wednesday brought another annoyance that I don't think caused my depression, or even made it worse, but just didn't make it better. My ex friend Deborah showed up at my in-law's at a time when I was in a hurry to pick up my son from there, and I had my daughter in the car. I knew my daughter would want to see her, and visit with her for a while, and frankly, I don't want her anywhere near my daughter, but even if I did, I didn't have the time to let them visit that day. It just brought up some anger about this woman. She couldn't stand my inlaws until I forbade her to see my daughter, then all of a sudden she was best friends with them. (and coincidentally, when my daughter would go to her father's for visitation, he would let Deborah take my daughter for the weekend instead)

I've heard all the cheery upbeat things that are supposed to get you out of a slump. In fact, my cousin wrote a very uplifting blog just a week ago that really helped me get through a tough day, but it only worked for about a day. I am just so tired of feeling this way and not knowing what the cause is or how to fix it or even how to prevent it. I have tried all the "churchy" things, and all the "shrink" things, and etc., but yet, here I am again.

No, I won't apostatize, but I might leave next time....

2009-06-29T08:28:00.000-06:00

I have avoided writing on here because everytime I went to write, I found myself ranting about one thing or another, and I kept waiting for a positive thought. Well, it hasn't come yet (or at least not while I was on the computer) so I am just going to spew about what has been bugging me since yesterday.

I have my opinions about things, and if someone wants a debate, I will fight for my side of things till death, but honestly, I do believe everyone has the right to believe what they want to believe. (Just don't try to force those beliefs on me or my children) If I don't like something being said, I will usually walk away or turn off the tv or computer or whatever.

But what do you do when a subject comes up in a Sunday School class that is a social or political "hot topic" and you are in the minority? What if you don't want to be "run out" of class? Especially when the class topic was Apostacy, and most of the stories up to that point had been all the "silly little reasons" some people leave the church, and you find yourself wanting to walk out of that very class.

What do you do when you have gay friends/family and the class starts talking about how "those gays need to just stop being gay and start living right" or "How dare they ask to talk to the General Authorities? They are just trying to get us to tell them it is okay to live in sin." "It is their fault we have AIDS", etc.

Don't get me wrong...I am still not sure about the whole thing. I have never been gay, but I have heard both sides. I honestly don't know if it is something you are "born with", or something that happens due to trauma, or something that is a "choice", or if it is a little of everything, but I, (me-just me-not my religion, or my parents or society-just me-after mulling it over with my limited knowledge of it all-not knowing what it is like to have those kind of feelings for the same sex, and being persecuted for it) I personally believe that it is not a choice to have those feelings.

I know there are people who experiment with many different things that I can't even imagine doing, so for them a same-sex "hook-up" is just one more experiment to try, but I think for the people who are fighting for marriage rights and trying to talk to the General Authorities it is not just about thrills and experimentation. It is about deep feelings and commitment.

My frustration comes not necessarily from the LDS stand on gay marriage. Nor do I feel the individuals in the class should believe exactly how I do. My frustration comes from the fact that I was sitting in a class with people I consider my friends, and some of them were talking about my friends and family (indirectly) as if they were perverts and criminals. They have the right to their views. I just don't think a Sunday School class is the forum for deciding their eternal fate or their mortal crimes and judgement.

A couple of sisters were braver than me, and tried to remind the others that it is not our place to judge or to make the decisions, and one brother finally said "Why are we talking about this? Our subject today is not about this!" and made me wish I had spoken up, but more than anything, I just wish it hadn't happened at all.

Truly Alone

2009-05-23T11:15:00.000-06:00

I am a very spiritual person despite my depression and health problems, so I know that no one is truly alone. "God's eye is on the sparrow and I know he watches me" but other than my family, I don't really have anyone I can call a friend. I have some former coworkers that I can have a long conversation with when I bump into them somewhere, and former classmates I chat with on Facebook or MySpace. I have ward members that I can call in a crisis, like when my ex-husband has threatened us or my car won't start. But the other day I felt how isolated I have made myself when I got stuck in my garage. I had pushed the remote, and the door didn't go all the way up, so I stepped into the garage to see if something was stuck. I shook the door a little, and pushed the button on the wall, and the door came crashing down. (I later found out the wire on the pulley had broken)
My cell phone was in my pocket, but it was nearly dead, so I only managed to make one phone call before it died. I chose my apt manager, even though it was past office hours. They are such sweet people, and always nice to me, and I hoped they would check their messages. The only other option I could think of was the police.
All of my family was up in the mountains camping, and at the moment I left the message it hit me that if I hadn't had my phone, no one would have missed me until my kids got back 4 days later. No one else would notice me missing.
One comfort was the fact that I had left my car running with the driver's door open, outside the garage, but I had no idea when someone might notice.
It all turned out okay; the manager got the message and they got me out, but it really drove home to me the fact that I have no one to come home to, no one who I call on a regular basis or visit on a regular basis, I don't even go to work every day anymore, so no one would miss me for days.
That is a very scary thought to me.

Love you Larry

2009-05-12T06:52:00.000-06:00

My dad's cousin Larry is one of the most important people in my life. Not in an everyday kind of way; I only saw him about once a year. He was more like a constant memory I could always count on for a laugh, a kind word, and a youthful vibrance. I think I was at least in my 20s before I realized he was as old as my father. He just never got old. He was diagnosed with MS a few years ago, and still seemed to just breeze through life. He never seemed to let anything get him down. I have been told these last couple of weeks before he passed away have been really bad, but I know in my heart he left this world the way he lived in it. With dignity and humor. I love you Larry.

Not to complain.....(right!)

2009-05-12T06:42:00.000-06:00

I am living off the taxes and hard work of other people right now, so as the saying goes, I am a "beggar" and shouldn't be complaining, but sometimes "the system" seems so messed up. First I lost my food stamps because they supposedly didn't recieve a paper I was supposed to turn in even though I had made a notation in my journal/planner about dropping it off. I know I turned it in, but they don't show receiving it, so I had to reapply and wait until the end of the month to have food. Luckily I hit the case lot sales last month and have a couple months worth of mac and cheese to get us by.
Now I find out the meds I need the most for my migraines has a "cap" on it, so I can only get 6 of them a month. I need at least 16 just for the worst days. (I never take one unless my headache is above a "6", and those come 3-4 days a week.) So basically, Medicaid will only allow me to have a headache 6 times a month. Nice of them, huh? If only them telling me that could make it true.

Warning, may offend some people...

2009-05-09T07:13:00.000-06:00

I have had problems with depression and anxiety most of my life. I could tell you all the reasons/excuses for it, like my mother didn't love me enough or my daddy loved my sister more, or I was abused in some way, but that doesn't solve the problem.
I also have one brother who has struggled just as much or more than I have. We have spent most of our lives trying to explain to people, even family, why we feel the way we do, and can even tell you what the answers are "for someone else", but when we try to apply it to ourselves, it just doesn't work.
I had a long talk with said brother last night, and we both agree that mental illness should be treated the same way other illness are treated. If I had cancer, no one would expect me to be able to go to a full time job, take care of 2 children, keep up my housework, do my church job, run errands, etc. right after a round of chemo. But if I have a major depressive episode, I am supposed to do all that with a smile on my face.
My brother is being guilted by certain members of the family and society because he couldn't work enough to pay the mortgage and now is losing his house. He feels guilty enough on his own, but it doesn't stop others from judging him. He is told that it isn't fair to his wife and kids that he can't just "try harder" or "suck it up and be a man". When my friend Suz was dying from cancer, that was unfair to her kids too. But no one ever told her she should feel guilty about it-try harder-suck it up. They stepped in and helped her.
Maybe someone reading this will tell themselves it is just the rantings of a "crazy person" who is just making excuses for herself and her brother, but I hope at least one person reads this and thinks twice the next time they choose to judge.

Want some cheese with that?

2009-05-08T10:37:00.000-06:00

I have a lot of "bad" days with my migraines and depression, and sometimes feel like I just can't take one more day. But then a day comes along that makes me realize how very blessed I am. I don't get along with my mother very well, but she is alive. I can't imagine what it is like to have Mother's Day come along and not have a mother. Or not have kids when I desperately want one. I can't imagine being homeless or ever being truly hungry. I have never had to worry about my kids being shot on the way to school (or at school). My kids and I have never been seriously sick. I can turn on my computer and be in contact with almost anyone I want to. I have a cell phone that enables me to be in contact with my family no matter where I am. We all have a closet full of clothes. (some of which my daughter never wears before she grows out of them) Granted, they are mostly hand-me-downs, but she always has something to wear. My church is about a mile away, the store is only 3 blocks, & the school is 4 blocks away. The only thing I would have to drive to is the doctor/hospital. I am free to do what I want when I want as long as it isn't against the law. So why do I let the headaches and depression overcome me? I hope to someday figure that out.

Rise and Shine!

2009-05-07T06:56:00.000-06:00

Every morning I come upstairs, get on the computer, and look at my daughter as she sleeps. She truly is a beautiful child, and when asleep, she could easily be an angel in our midst. But right around 7 am, I wake her up, and the room lights up, the sound level rises an octave or two, and our day has truly begun.
She can be a little "stinker" at times, especially when she is trying to get her brother in trouble, but she is generally the sweetest, most open and caring kid I have ever known.
Before she was born, her father's maternal grandmother and father disliked each other so much that we had to invite one side to our wedding and the other side to our reception. But the day we brought her home, they came in the same car to see her.
It borders on a miracle that she is even here. I had been told for over 2 years that I couldn't have a baby, but one day I thought I felt something in my stomach, and started thinking I had cancer or something. When I went to the doctor, he actually laughed at me for not knowing for sure because I was almost 6 months along. We did an ultrasound and found out she was a girl that same day. It was one of the shortest pregnancy waits in history. By the time I got everything I would need, she was here. (I had just gotten rid of all her brother's baby stuff after 12 years of holding on to it "just in case")
I love both of my kids with all my heart, so I don't want to leave my son out of this "love fest". He has always been a real joy in my life too. Never been in trouble, wouldn't hurt a fly, and he is the best big brother my little girl could have. The two of them together make being a parent the best part of my day.
Well, time to start the day. Rise and Shine Stinkers!!

The price you pay for "laziness"

2009-05-06T10:15:00.000-06:00

I have recently had to admit that I can't work due to extreme migraines, OCD, PTSD, and other issues, so I applied for Social Security and got approved. Just having access to medical help through the program is a big blessing, but knowing I can provide for my family while I find ways to cope with my health problems really helps. The down side is that I feel like a failure. I feel like I should be doing SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE besides sitting around the house trying to combat my headaches. Then yesterday was my assigned day to recieve my food stamps, so I went to the store and got about $95 worth of groceries. When I got to the counter, I told the guy it was on food stamps, and he joked, "What if I say no? What if I won't let you use your card?" I joked back that would have to buy my groceries for me. Then after he rang it all up, the card wouldn't work. I had heard that some other people were having trouble with their cards (getting their stamps a day late) so I wasn't too worried at the moment. I even joked with him, accusing him of cursing me with his comment. I had him suspend my order while I tried to call Health & Welfare, but couldn't get through, so I ended up having to use cash. Then I went to the H&W office and found out they had cancelled my food stamps because they hadn't recieved Dalton's work termination form. I knew I had turned it in on March 27th because I had made a notation in my planner. (We had a really hard time getting the form filled out, so I made sure I wrote down when I turned it in so I would have proof) They didn't care. "It wasn't in their system, so I must not have turned it in. " I reapplied, and will get them back, but it will take 15-30 days, so we will be living off what I bought yesterday for the rest of the month. I am very aware that we are SO much better off than a lot of people...I am very blessed and thankful for what I have....but it is just frustrating to be penalized for someone else's mistakes. I don't know why anyone would get government help if they didn't desperately need it. It is way too much work.

The Convertible Minivan

2009-05-05T08:18:00.000-06:00

I have had some "interesting" relationships with the males in my life since day one, and it usually gets me into trouble in one way or another, either emotionally or physically. But there have been some good ones too.
My relationship with my father got off on the wrong note because of a conversation I overheard and misunderstood at the age of three. I never felt like I had a place in his world.
My grandfather was my best friend during my later childhood, throughout my teens, and until the day he died when I was 34 years old. But he did some very hurtful things to other members of the family, and that makes it hard for others to see him in a positive way.
I had very few female friends I could trust. I was much more comfortable with the guys in my class. I had some of the best guy friends in the world, but as we reached high school and beyond, their mates didn't like us being friends anymore. I have a hard time understanding why it has to be different when the friends are of the opposite sex. When my female friends got married, our relationship changed a little; she made her husband her priority but I was still a part of her life. When my guy friends got married, the relationship was over.
My first husband was a self proclaimed Satan worshiper, and came from a severely abusive childhood, but I thought if I loved him enough, he would change. Even now, he threatens, terrorizes, and emotionally abuses me and our kids over and over.
My second husband had his own set of problems, and I was not really ready to give my "all" to a relationship. I was living behind a wall, and I guess I kind of wanted him to break that wall down to prove I was worth it, but the wall was built so well over the years that he couldn't overcome his own problems well enough to even begin to break it down.
I met a guy online in 2005 who seemed like the "perfect" guy. Our relationship was great for about a month. He had all the good traits I missed about my previous relationships. Then we started dating, and he became my "probation officer". I couldn't do anything without his permission. I finally left him, & had pretty much decided that men just aren't capable of true compassion and support without an ulterior motive.
Then I met this really great guy. He and I can talk about anything, and every interaction with him is a pleasant experience. He is the kind of person who not only makes you want to be a better person, but actually makes you feel like you already are a better person just because he sees you that way. We had a conversation about why he isn't married yet, and he explained that women date convertibles and marry minivans, and he just hasn't met a girl who is ready to trade in her convertible yet. I am not interested in him as anything more than a friend, but some girl out there is going to be very lucky when she realizes he is a Convertible Minivan. The best of both worlds. He makes me believe in good men again. (if only I had met someone like him 20 years ago)

Slow Down! I am having a hard time keeping up!

2009-05-04T07:03:00.000-06:00

I was born Mormon, but rebelled during my teenage years and actually got baptized into another church. Then when my son was born, I got more worried about being with him after this life, so I came back. I have some questions/problems with some things, and especially with some of the people who call themselves Christians/Mormons but treat each other badly, but have tried to raise both of my kids with the LDS values and beliefs for the most part.
My ex-husband is very anti-Mormon, though, and in an effort to please him, my son has rejected the church pretty strongly. Then this past year, his father did some pretty awful things to him and other people in the family, and my son stopped caring what he thought.
All of a sudden, he was wanting the missionaries to come, got baptized the end of January, was ordained a Priest, and is talking about a mission.
He is trying so hard to live right, to my annoyance. (haha) I no longer can get away with the "little" things like shopping on Sunday, watching R rated movies, etc. that I have allowed myself to do in the past. Just yesterday, he offered one of the Sacrament prayers & bore his testimony. (I haven't had the nerve or desire to do that for at least 15 years) At least 20 people came up to me at church to tell me how proud I should be of him. (I am)
I have always been proud of him; he has never been in any serious trouble, he wouldn't hurt a fly, and he is the best big brother I have ever met. (despite his almost constant teasing of his sister)
The apprentice has far surpassed the master.

I really miss working with kids :(

2009-05-01T17:27:00.000-06:00

I got to go to the library and Bear World with my daughter's class today. It was so fun watching and listening to 50 something 7 and 8 year olds talk about what is important to them. I had a blast helping out with the 2 developmentally delayed students. (I really miss working with all the young people at Eagle Rock and Options) I got to know her teacher and some of the other moms (and one dad) a little better. It was so nice to get out of my "little box" for a day.

Open mouth, insert foot...

2009-04-29T19:45:00.001-06:00

Have you ever said something you REALLY regretted. I don't mean the usual "saying something in the moment of anger that you wish you could take back kind of thing". I am talking about something that haunts you for the rest of your life.
When I was in grade school, I had a friend who had another friend who lived closer, so they got to spend a lot more time together. I was jealous, and frequently said I wanted her to just "go away". That summer, the other girl and her little sister died in a drowning incident. I have carried that around for 30 years.
When I got into a bad relationship a few years ago, I tried many times to get away, but just kept getting sucked back in. Finally, I begged God to seperate us somehow. A couple of months later, he died. Not really my fault, but I truly regret that wish.
The other day, I was so excited to see my extended family at a happy occasion that I made a flippant remark about how the best part about seeing them was that "no one had to die". Usually the only time I see them is our yearly reunion and funerals, so a mission farewell was a great alternative. Then this morning I was checking out the local news, including the obits, and found out that one of my distant cousins had a daughter die shortly after birth. (on the same day I made the comment about no one needing to die) Again, it wasn't my fault she died, and I don't think any of her family saw my comment, but it really made me wish I could take it back.

Okay, now my fingers work....

2009-04-29T07:29:00.000-06:00

I went to the exercise class. It was Tae Bo! Not my idea of a "first time exercising in 20 years" kind of class. I held up pretty good for about 45 mins with a couple short breaks to get a drink, but woke up the next morning feeling like I got hit by a truck. I was going to go walking to loosen up my muscles, but it was raining most of the day (good excuse, huh?) so I am still pretty stiff and sore. I KNEW exercise was bad for me.

No it's not the end of the world....

2009-04-27T08:34:00.000-06:00

Okay, just a work of caution, the sky may fall today. I am going to an exercise class (WHAT!!!!!). I have banned the word in my house, with my family, and with anyone who I have frequent contact with. I just decided I need something (productive) to do while I am out of work, so I am going more for the socialization than for my health, but if I don't die of a heart attack, I may go back. Wish me luck.

Never a bad day with the Finns

2009-04-26T07:19:00.000-06:00

My extended family is one of the best things in my life. Both of my Paternal grandparents had 10 siblings, and we get together with their families every year (although the Brower side is kinda slacking off ) I look forward to the reunions all year, and it seems like 12 months is just way too long. Sometimes we get "lucky" enough to see each other at a funeral, but not everyone comes to every one. Then there are the better occasions, like today, when we have a happy occasion to celebrate. One of my distant cousins is going on a mission, and I hope to see some of his family and some of the other extended family there. Yep, weddings, graduations, baptisms, baby blessings, mission farewells, etc.....we need some more of those.

Can you miss something that damaged your life?

2009-04-23T09:14:00.000-06:00

I go to a battered women's group, and usually come out of it feeling better. Either I am thanking God that I haven't had it as bad as some of the other women, or at least feel like I am not alone in the stuff I have gone through. It sometimes becomes a male-bashing session, but most of the women don't hate all men, just abusive men. I am not in a hurry to have another relationship, but it is nice to see some of the women starting a new relationship that isn't abusive. It gives me hope for the future.
The last relationship I had was not a good one. He was very controlling, bordered on child abuse with my daughter, emotionally tore me down, and alienated me from my family.
I have been trying so hard for the last 3 years to remember the things he did to us so I won't ever make that mistake again, but last night we did a learning exercise, and as I was writing his good traits, it was very easy to come up with a couple dozen good things about him. When it came to his bad traits, it was a lot harder. I could put down a couple dozen incidents, but they all came down to 2 things. He was controlling, and he didn't trust anyone. I started bawling because he was a good man in so many ways. He just ruined the good stuff by doing the bad stuff.
When I think of the "perfect man", he fits that mold in so many ways. He would die for his children, his mother, his friends, his neighbor. He took on 3 kids with disabilities, (not even related to him) and the teachers who had them in class said he was the best parent they had ever dealt with. He made sure the kids were clean and well fed and he communicated with the school staff about everything going on with them. He lived in the moment all the time. The past was over for him (other than not trusting people now for something someone else did before) and the future was something to worry about tomorrow. Not that he was irresponsible; he took care of his bills, etc. He just didn't worry about anything that "might" happen. He taught me so many good things.
The problem is that he also taught me to doubt myself, to be afraid to be myself, to distrust my family's love, to doubt my ability to protect my kids, and so many other things. He did a lot of damage to my belief system/boundaries. I have spent almost 3 years trying to convince myself that he was the problem, and I was the victim. Now I feel like he was a symptom of my problems. If I had been healthy, he wouldn't have been able to control me.

Time to get out the box!

2009-04-21T08:44:00.000-06:00

I have a Rubbermaid tote that we keep the summer clothes in, then put all the winter clothes in all summer, and every year, from the first day we have no snow, Branwyn starts asking, "Can we get the yellow box out?" I try to hold out until we know the cold weather is totally gone, but in Idaho that could be late July and be over by late August. There have been years when she has opened the box to find that she has grown out of everything in it. This year I decided to get it out as soon as possible, so she is wearing skorts with thick tights, tank tops with a long sleeve button-up shirt over it, etc. She loves it and thinks she is going to set a new trend.

I'm (cough) not (cough) sick....

2009-04-20T08:12:00.000-06:00

I have had my yearly cough for about 2 weeks now, and it isn't showing any sign of going away, but like the migraines and other health problems, I am just kind of letting it be part of my life. I applied for Medicaid so I can get my migraine meds and hopefully find out what causes me to cough up a lung every spring (former years the doctors have ruled out allergies), but it hasn't come through yet. I am very blessed to have a son who can help me out when I just can't do everything.

Awww, much better...my wallet was getting a little heavy

2009-04-18T05:47:00.000-06:00

Well, after spending a little over $100 over a couple months to buy Dalton gifts, I spent another $100 for his party last night. We went to The Rex so the "big kids" could bowl while the "little kids" played in the arcade. We all had a lot of fun, and it was money well spent. Does this fall under a Provident Living violation? lol

I am not old enough to have 19 year old!!!

2009-04-17T12:13:00.000-06:00

My son Dalton is 19 today. I can't believe it has been that long since he was little. (actually he was pretty small until just a couple years ago) He just got baptized a few months ago, so he won't be going on a mission for a while, but he is going to be shadowing the missionaries here for a while. I am so proud of him for taking steps in the right direction.

Newborn blogger

2009-04-17T12:06:00.000-06:00

I have been following all my cousins' blogs for a couple of months now, and keep thinking how nice it is to know what is going on with them, so I decided to start my own so they could "peek" into my life too. (everyone needs a story to help them fall asleep, right?) So this is the test blog to see if it works.