Terrified to be Eeyore

 By middle school I had gained a reputation. I was the one who was always happy. I was also the friend people went to for advice and counseling. When they needed help or a listening ear, they came to me. I was the one people trusted with their secrets. I remember kids joking that I probably knew things about everyone in the whole school because everyone felt safe talking in front of me even if it wasn’t to me because I didn’t gossip and I kept things to myself. I felt destined to be a therapist one day because it seemed to be something I was innately good at and I liked that people trusted me and felt safe with me.

But when crap hit the fan in my own life things got heavy fast and I realized that it was hard to shoulder everyone else’s burdens in addition to my own. And I felt I had a duty to keep being who everyone expected me to be. I was “the happy one.” I didn’t have anyone I could talk to and share my burden with because they had their own crap and I felt I had an obligation to be the strong one for them. The happy one. The one they could rely on.  

It was okay for a while. For a long while really. Because helping other people gave me a sense of purpose and a sense of worth when I couldn’t find those things in my own life. But I did eventually break. I stopped having the energy to be the strong, happy one, always there for others and ready to listen and shoulder their burden. I barely had the energy to keep myself afloat let alone help anyone else. 

There’s a song I like that talks about mental health with the lyrics “Like you have empathy inside but you don't really care; Like you're fresh outta love but it's been in the air” And that hits hard because that’s exactly what it felt like. Losing my ability to help other people took away the one thing I had in my life that gave me a sense of purpose and worth. I cared about my friends but couldn’t find the feeling necessary to act on it anymore. I became a terrible friend. I was lost in a sea of apathy and couldn’t find the energy to care about anyone including myself. I knew I cared. I knew I loved people. I wanted to care. I just… couldn’t do it. 

And it took getting a therapist to become whole again. The beautiful thing about therapists is that there is no expectation to be anyone but yourself. No expectation to be strong or happy or reliable. No expectation to be nice or nonjudgmental or perfect. No expectation to shoulder any one’s burden but your own. You can say the inappropriate things in your head that would make anyone else uncomfortable. You can just be yourself, with no need to be tactful or politically correct or socially acceptable or not-awkward and you can accept help. Because you’re paying for it. Which is the down side, right?

In reality, for most people, what needs to happen is a certain amount of give and take in their relationships. I help you and you help me. I shoulder your burden and you help shoulder mine. But in order for that to work we can’t put people on pedestals. There are no “strong ones” or “happy ones.” People who are always strong or always happy don’t exist. And to have that expectation is unrealistic, unfair, and unhealthy for everyone involved. It doesn’t help to always view others as perfect and yourself as imperfect, or to be viewed as perfect and in reality never measure up.

And I have tried multiple times in my adult life to let down the walls of “always being happy” and try to let people help shoulder my burdens by sharing them with others. But it’s really hard. I get strangled by a sense of guilt. I don’t feel like I have the right to do that to people because it’s never been allowed of me within the confines of fulfilling the pedestal role of “the happy one.” I’m grateful for the intimacy involved in being myself with people. The feeling that they are seeing me beyond being happy. But I am terrified that in reality the real Emily is a bit more like Eeyore than I care to admit. I am terrified that if I’m not happy at least a majority of the time that people will eventually tire of being around me and will leave. I am terrified that my sense of self worth is wrapped up in my ability to be “the happy one” and the “strong one” and the listening ear for others. And if I allow myself to be anything but that I will be worthless.

Of course Eeyore had friends in Winnie the Pooh who loved him despite his demeanor. But I struggle to relate to that image because it’s not like you get to witness him falling off his happy pedestal and then still being loved. There were no expectations for him to fail. How does one walk away from the pedestal of needing to be happy to have value to people? 

I know that feeling this way isn’t unique to me. Which is in some ways comforting. And I also recognize that if I have always been able to love people in their Eeyore states that I should be able to accept that other people can love an Eeyore Emily too. But logic doesn’t easily change feelings or fears. And even now I feel obligated to tie this up with a nice, positive and uplifting bow. But sometimes, I haven’t yet found the ribbon to tie things up with yet 🤷‍♀️

Normalizing Mundane

Funny moments, memorable quotes, big life events, the occasional rant or whine, memes... these are the sorts of things that fill our social media feeds and even phone conversations. Right? I'm always a little frustrated when I call someone up and ask them how their life has been, and they have nothing to report. You have things you can share with me! It's okay if you talk to me about the kids or the laundry or what have you! You don't have to have some magical or disastrous event to happen in order to have an excuse to talk to me! 

Something I have been thinking about this week is that I am very grateful for windows into people's mundane moments. I've had the opportunity lately to witness regular moments, or at least have them incorporated into the conversation, of "I'm doing laundry" or "I'm doing the dishes" or "I'm making dinner" or "I'm cleaning the bathroom" or "I'm going to vacuum the floors" or "I'm picking up the clutter" or "I just took a shower." And honestly it's been the best thing. I have never felt great at being a normal functioning adult. I don't have the habits or frame of mind most people seem to have. The mundane "every day tasks" fill me with a sense of apathy or dread and they do not happen every day or even sometimes in a week. It's hard for me to explain. But it's been so helpful to have a model for those things.

It also makes me realize that if I can master those things, then I have the opportunity to be that model for my own kids so that they can have a more successful adult life than I have thus far had. And that the attitude that I take with those things will also affect the attitude that my children have. Can I make doing dishes into something that is a fun, memorable moment my kids can remember, so that there are positive associations with it, and not just "the dreaded chore" ? Can I help them feel a sense of pride for their work? Can I help them feel like the every day is possible, and not just expected? And not just that, but I feel like the opportunities that come up to serve other people in those things turn into moments I can be grateful for, because once again, it becomes a model for my children. If there is one thing that I learned from my mother, it is to serve and help others. My mother has spent most of my adolescent and adult life giving a large amount of her time and energy to serve her friends. And that is definitely one of my strongest priorities. It brings me joy. And I want that for my kids. But I also want all the mundane things for my kids too.

So let's normalize the mundane. Let's normalize finding joy in it. Let's normalize including people in it. Letting the kids see it. Letting your friends help you with it. Or at least letting me help you with it 😉 Because at least for me, I am finding that helping others with the mundane, and witnessing more of the mundane, makes my own mundane feel more possible, and less out of reach. And letting your kids see people serving you? That's a good thing too. It's teaching your kids that it's okay to have help. It's okay to ask for help. And that's something I want my kids to learn too. That it's okay to include people in your mundane... that joy can come from the mundane, and not just the extraordinary. Because at least in my experience, joy often comes from moments shared together, and usually, it’s the little things.

Trauma Language

I came across a meme a week or so back that was talking about the bond between trauma survivors. I've never put it into words quite as succinctly before, but what it said was this:

"One reason why trauma survivors often bond with each other so profoundly--which is different from a "trauma bond"-- is because people who've been through certain things "speak" a different emotional language than the rest of humanity.... and we recognize that "language" when we hear it." 

-Dr. Glenn Patrick Doyle            

The reason why this stood out to me was because only a couple months back I was having a conversation with my husband about the fact that I often struggle to make friends with people who don't have trauma in their past. Whereas I often almost instantly connect with people who do have trauma in their past. It comes easier anyway. I also don't deal with the same anxiety when making new friendships with people who have had trauma versus when attempting to make friends with people who have not. It feels difficult to connect, and I sometimes end up feeling like the relationship is unbalanced. That's not to say that I can't or don't have wholesome relationships with people who haven't experienced trauma. I have some wonderful friendships with people who have led trauma-free lives, my husband included. I'm merely noting a pattern in my life, and there are some who break from that pattern. It just normally takes longer. 

I also want to point out that I have no intention of defining what "trauma" entails, because that looks very different for different people. And trauma is trauma. I don't believe in grading or ranking it. But I like this idea of a unique "language" so to speak because it puts into words something I've thought a lot about before in the past. Although I think... maybe people are capable of learning this language if they care enough to do so. Let me share with you a brief story.

There is a moment that sticks out in my mind very clearly. A friend from work, many years ago said something to me that acknowledged that I had been abused as a child. This wouldn't be all that peculiar, nor do I take any issue with that acknowledgement... except, I had never talked to her about it and there was no reason for her to have known. We had never even hung out outside of work. To make this statement about me so boldly when in truth, we hardly knew each other at all was.... bold and unexpected. After acknowledging she was right, I asked her how she knew. Her response has always stuck out to me.

"Compassion and understanding only come from experience. You are too loving to not have been hurt. People who have been hurt deeply, love deeper" 

Realistically, I've always thought that beyond that, she must have had a gift for observation. A radar for the abused. And on hearing her response, I instantly knew that she herself had experienced trauma, because I have only ever been analyzed that quickly before by people who have that shared experience... But also, part of me has always disagreed with that statement. It didn't sit right. I have found people who have led trauma-free lives who have deep compassion for others. I don't believe that having compassion first necessitates experiencing trauma. It seems to me that what she was recognizing, was not necessarily that I loved deeper or had more compassion, but that I spoke her emotional language. All my life I have found people who have experienced trauma. It has often felt like a sort of innate radar or magnetism. And on multiple occasions, people have come to me to talk about their trauma without even knowing anything about my history. And this idea, that perhaps they recognized a different emotional "language" without even knowing it, and therefore felt safe to share themselves with me, which in turn helped us connect... makes sense. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say "People who have been hurt deeply, love differently."

That said, I am very grateful for the people who have allowed me to develop deep relationships with them, regardless of whatever personal history they may or may not have. It is easy to recognize when someone loves you deeply rather than just casually, in passing, when convenient. And few things are more comforting, to me, than feeling free to be vulnerable.. Freedom to say the things I’m thinking even when they have weight, to ask the questions I’m pondering, even knowing they might provoke a vulnerable moment on either your or my part. Feeling safe to cry. That feels like love. That feels like safety. The trust that they love you as much as you love them is an unquantifiable treasure.

Crossed Paths

I remember in college, feeling very sad that I kept making friends with amazing, sweet, compassionate people. The issue was not the friends that I was making, but rather in that these relationships never seemed to last. I came to the realization that I was often put in the lives of those around me, because I was needed. But as soon as the reason for being needed ended, the relationships seemed to fade every time. Once people no longer need me, they stop seeking me out as a friend. That made me sad. It made me feel disposable. In some ways it made me want to give up on making friends or caring about people. You could say I have some mild abandonment issues ;)

Now, to provide a little backdrop, in my church, members have the option, if desired, to receive a blessing from a priesthood Patriarch, that provides personalized revelation and insight for your life. This blessing is written down and recorded for posterity so that you can reference it for guidance and comfort throughout your life. It's considered sacred and personal, and you're encouraged to keep it private. This isn't because it contains big secrets or anything like that. To me, the reason for that is because you are the only one that is primarily entitled to receive revelation for your own life, and allowing others to read it gives them the opportunity to interpret guidance only you are meant to interpret and apply to your life. That ability to interpret and apply your patriarchal blessing to your life comes as you listen to promptings from the Holy Ghost. And sometimes I can read a line, and get something out of it, but read it again years later and take something entirely different from it. And that's okay because I needed different guidance at different times. So keep that in mind as I share this next part.

Reading through my patriarchal blessing in college, I came across several lines that mentioned my friends and acquaintances, and those stood out at the time of course, because I was feeling sad about friends. One specific phrase regarding these friends and acquaintances was that they would "cross [my] path" which stood out, and put the ensuing lines about my ability to affect their lives into context. In reality, it's not like this felt like new information. As I already said, I had realized that I was put into people's lives for a reason. In some ways it made me feel even more sad, because it felt like further acknowledgement that people would continue to only "cross" my life, and not stay in it. You might say I'm putting too much stock into a single phrase, but it's how I felt at the time, and you can't argue with how I felt. But eventually I came to the conclusion that I would take solace in being able to be an instrument for good, no matter the timeline. And that I couldn't allow the length of time that people stayed in my life to cheapen the worth of having them at all. 

And so, when prompted to love people, I love fast, and I love hard if they'll let me (and if prompted), because I never know how long I'll be able to love them for and I can't waste what time I have. Now, granted, I get to love them as long as I want, whether they still need me to or not. And that love is still there, should they decide that they need me again. And I want those people to feel certain in my willingness to be there for them in any way I can. Every now and then it still means that I feel a little sad when I make a new friend, and there's a grieving process that happens, because it's hard not to feel like I'm "waiting for the other shoe to drop," wondering how long it will be before they'll stop needing me. 

But time and time again, I take solace in Ecclesiastes 3:1, 

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven

There will always be value in loving others, and being there for people in their time of need, and allowing people to love you in your own times of need, regardless of the length of the season. There is value to having purpose in people's lives. And the lessons you learn from those people last a lifetime. And the memories you hold onto can last a lifetime too. And you never know when you might find someone that will stay in your life, and not just cross your path. And we simply can't live life waiting for the other shoe to drop, or worried about what tomorrow will bring. All we can do, is live and love today to the best of our ability.

Sex

Not the first time I’ve broached this subject really, but let’s take another stab for fun. I will do my best to do this respectfully while honoring the intimate privacy of the subject.. but also, bluntly. My opinions are influenced by my religious upbringing, and my life experiences for that matter, but also, my opinions are my own, and we’re allowed to disagree, but I believe there is value for some people in knowing these opinions exist. 

What is the purpose of sex? Obviously there’s more than one way to answer this question. Functionally of course, sex has the ability to make babies. But beyond that, in my opinion, sex serves the purpose of helping spouses grow closer together. You learn to be vulnerable. You learn to feel safe being vulnerable with that person. You trust. You learn to communicate. You learn to communicate even when you feel vulnerable. You learn to seek out the other person’s wants and needs. You learn to express your own wants and needs. You learn to put their needs before your own. You learn it’s okay to expect them to care about your wants and needs. You learn to compromise. You learn to be patient. You learn how to set boundaries. You learn to say yes. You learn to say no. You learn to accept no for an answer. You learn to say please. You learn to say thank you. You learn to agree and you learn to disagree. You try new things together. You fail together. You succeed together. You laugh together. You experience pleasure together. You experience disappointment and hurt together. You learn there are some things as husband and wife that are yours and yours alone. Life happens and it’s not perfect, and you may fight and you may cry and you may dance and you may leap for joy… And afterwards, sex is there for the apologies, for the healing, for the celebrations.

Does this mean that sex happens more often than the 5 times I’ve been pregnant? Yes, yes it does. 

Does this mean that my husband is entitled to my body just because he’s my husband, or because it’s Valentine’s Day or because it’s his birthday, or what have you? Nope, no it does not.

Does this mean that sex should be used as a manipulative weapon to be given and taken away to control my spouse? Nope, no it does not.

Does this mean it’s okay to try new things beyond the standard “missionary position”? Yes, yes it does. 

Does this mean that it’s okay to enjoy sex as often as your personal preferences and life allow? Yes, yes it does. 

Does this mean that we should allow taboo to dictate what is and is not okay within your sex life? No. I would say no it does not. What happens in your sex life should be determined between you and your spouse, and what you both feel comfortable with. But what is considered taboo should not be the deciding factor.

Does this mean that both parties should be able to expect pleasure from their sexual encounters? Yes, yes it does. There’s a natural give and take when it comes to sex. And while it may not always be equal, you need to find balance. Any relationship where one person is always giving or always taking but not vice versa is destined to have its problems. Find balance. 

Does this mean that you should feel free to discuss your sex life with friends / family / neighbors and acquaintances? No, it does not. However, can I put a big caveat here? I believe you should feel free to discuss your sex life with others in so far as you believe it will have a positive impact on either your relationship with your spouse, or the other person’s relationship with their spouse. Those should be the only goals. This should be done carefully, with respect to all parties, and unsolicited advice / information should generally be avoided… but while sex is a partnered activity, we are still individuals. And it is important that we are able to communicate with people when it’s needed. Friends have helped me learn to communicate better with my spouse, and there have been moments when I have felt prompted to share things from my sex life with others to help them on their own journey. There were no graphic details. Nothing crude. No disrespect… just the best intentions to help a friend. And that is wholesome and good.

I hope my friends know that I aim to be a safe person to come to when they have vulnerable or taboo things they wish they could discuss. 

I was once told that “Sex is like a fine wine, it gets better with age.” I don’t really think age has a whole lot to do with it, although some arguments could be made there. Really, it comes down to time. Because it takes time to learn all those lessons that we can learn through that sexy time with our spouse. And even when we think we’ve learned something… there’s usually still room for improvement. 

There’s so much more that could be said here. And perhaps if I’ve failed to include something critical, there can be a follow up post in the future ;)

Loving Flaws

I miss my Addiction Recovery meetings. I miss the convenience of having them close by. I miss the weekly reminder to work on myself. I miss the weekly reminder that I’m not alone. I miss the weekly reminder that even though I sin differently than others, I can still heal like others. I miss the privilege of watching people grow and change for the better. I miss the light in the faces of those feeling buoyed by repentance and the atonement. I think that’s what I miss most. It’s one thing you can’t duplicate on a tiny little zoom call on your phone. The spirit you feel as someone enters the room with the biggest smile on their face because they made it. They’re here to talk about their success this week. Or maybe they’re not. Maybe they’re here to talk about how they screwed up or how things are still hard. But it doesn’t matter because they’re here, and there is peace in that because they know they’re in a room full of people who love and respect them despite everything they’ve done. Sometimes they're even nervous to be there. But you feel a sort of pride for their bravery in coming anyway.

That’s my experience with the Addiction Recovery Program at least. Although it can take some time going before it feels that way. Sometimes you have to learn to love yourself in order to love others. And sometimes you have to learn to love others in order to love yourself. Even surrounded by people whose last names you don’t know, you come to love everyone there. And not only that, but usually you come to love these people knowing almost exclusively just their flaws. You don’t know how good they are at speaking or writing or playing the piano, or whether they’re the president of their class at church, or whether they cook well, or if they’re good at serving others, good with children, or a loving spouse. You don’t know almost any of it. You know they have addictions. You know they struggle. You know they’re trying. You know they failed last week, but they want to try harder this week. But they’re not sure they’ll be any better this week than last. You know they hurt people. You know they betrayed someone. You know they hurt themselves. You know they want to believe in Christ. You know they can be selfish, you know they have lied, you know they have manipulated people, you know they have been unkind, you know they lack self control… But despite all the flaws you know about them, one thing remains in the forefront. They are trying. And sometimes trying looks like failing. But they are trying. 

Sometimes they screw up again because sometimes it feels like the pressure to be better, or the pressure to never mess up again is too much. Sometimes we listen to the little voice on our shoulder that is telling you that you’re not enough, that you never will be, that this is all you’re capable of… and you stop believing you can be any better, and all you’re good for is making the same mistakes. So you fall into the trap of doing it again, or not making any changes, even if it makes things worse. Even if it hurts people or yourself. Again. Because you get stuck in your head. Stuck in the feeling that screwing up makes you “less than.” And you are nothing more than that.

But that's why I love the group. Because you look around at all the other people who have made mistakes. You look around at all the people you have come to love despite all their flaws. 

And you realize that if you are capable of loving them despite their flaws, that other people are capable of loving you despite your flaws. You realize it's okay if people love you. You realize that you deserve to be loved despite your flaws. It's okay to love yourself despite your flaws. And as you learn to love yourself, you become better at loving other people in your life. 

And the cycle continues. 

And you keep repeating the steps. 

And you remember that healing isn't linear,

And imperfection, is the human condition.

Tangibly So

I once tried explaining to a therapist what depression felt like to me. Often, for me, it is a very physical, almost tangible-feeling thing. It’s a cloud in my head. And I don’t mean just a metaphorical “cloud of darkness” I mean it’s almost like a physical presence. My head feels different--thick, with a heavy sort of fuzzy energy that just weighs down my thoughts and feelings even when I have absolutely nothing to be sad about. It’s not about thinking happy thoughts. I can be having the most fun, be with the best people, and loving life. At least on a rational, logical, thinking level. But right above those thoughts and feelings is that weight of dark fuzzy, cloudiness in my head that just seems to squish and squash all the other feelings until I can’t actually enjoy them. I may have a smile on my face because I am happy, but behind it, I can feel the happiness immediately starting to die faster than it should. And part of me is panicking because I know the feeling will be gone the second the stimuli is gone. I can’t hold on to anything because it gets squashed. I can’t leave a friends house and be happy. I’m sad the second I walk out the door. Sometimes that makes me desperate to find the next thing that will make me smile so that I can hold on to the feeling just a little longer. Sometimes it makes me want to give up so I don't have to deal with the roller coaster. Sometimes I’m more aware of it than other times, sometimes it sneaks up on me, but I wish I could fully explain just how physical of an experience it feels like to me. Because I know that saying “I feel like there’s a cloud in my head” doesn’t communicate much.

My therapist at the time told me that she believed that made it more likely that antidepressants would help. And when I started taking them, I remember feeling the cloud slowly shrink. It’s not like my life magically got better. The actual issues didn’t magically improve. The actual reasons to be sad were still there. But the cloud was gone. It slowly shrunk until I felt like I could be a normal person. Sadness and happiness both existed. But I could hold onto both feelings instead of just one.

Well, something I realized fairly recently is that anxiety is sort of like this too for me. It’s an energy in my head that I can tangibly feel. But instead of being a weight, it’s chaos. It’s a cloud, but like butterflies in my stomach, except it’s in my head. It’s this buzzing, restless energy that makes me unable to feel calm, like restless leg syndrome. Sometimes, but not always, my heart starts to race or my breathing feels affected. It’s an energy that gives a sense of urgency and legitimacy to every negative or anxious thought that pops up. I can’t do anything to make that cloud go away. I can’t think happy thoughts, or sit there and reassure myself that whatever anxious thoughts I may or may not be having aren’t legitimate. I can’t sit there and chant calming self-confidence mantras. Because that’s not the core issue.

The instigating issue is the cloud in my head. My whole body ends up feeling anxious, whether there is anything to feel anxious about or not. Whether I’m thinking about anything in particular or not. I can logically be feeling like everything is fine in the world, but my body disagrees. The best thing for me in this case is to be around people I think. I find friends naturally calming. It doesn’t necessarily make the cloud go away. Just makes it easier to war with. At home, alone, I end up feeling so distracted by the cloud in my head, the anxious energy gives me little room to focus on anything else. Which sometimes leads to depressive states because I tend to feel less than worthwhile. Sometimes when it’s bad I start having the urge to cut myself to distract myself from what’s happening in my brain. And I do mean urge. Almost like an addiction. The residual pain becomes a distraction I can rely on when I feel like I don't have anything else to rely on. And I don't have to burden anyone else with it to deal. It's a red flag that my anxiety is becoming unmanageable. In public settings I try to provide myself with a physical stimuli like rubbing my palm or squeezing my arm to distract from what's happening in my head. It doesn't do much beyond keeping the feeling from escalating, but I do it anyway. External stimuli like someone else touching my back seems to work better, but I don't generally feel comfortable asking.

Sometimes it can be like the depression cloud and it feels like it’s trying to squash any confidence I have about my relationships or interactions with people. With people I don’t know well, I end up just feeling anxious, because I can’t hold onto any of the positive stimuli in our interactions. It slips away too fast. But some people send stronger signals of affirmation than others and I can hold onto the feeling longer. Or they're more consistent in their follow-through which gives them more traction. And the more I get to know people, the more I can hold onto the feeling of peace and surety I feel when interacting with them. But that feeling may still slip away the second I’m not looking directly at their face anymore. But if I know someone well enough, they can eventually be immune to the effects the cloud has on my confidence in relationships. That doesn’t mean the cloud goes away, just, the doubts that sometimes creep up with it. Maybe this is partially why I like having hard conversations with people. Because once I’ve had the verbal confirmation for the worst case scenarios in my head, I can use that as physical, tangible evidence to use against the feelings happening in my head even if my body remains the same.

And yet the cloud remains regardless. I really dislike when people talk about anxiety or depression as something you can will away with happy thoughts because that has just not been my experience. Or the response "I don't have that issue, I just think positively." Not helpful. Sure, it can sometimes help with the actual mental portion of it. But not the physical feeling remaining in my head and body. I am not my anxiety or depression. They are not part of my personality. And yet there they are. And I hate that to other people, they are part of who I am. But also, I am grateful for the people who accept me as I am.

Throw It Out the Window

Well, this has nothing to do with any of my more familiar blog topics. But every now and then my blog serves as a record that I can reference when needed. For instance, my recipe for no bake chocolate cookies (or Dino Dukies, as they were introduced to me by my childhood best friend) can be found within my postings. It's the link I give to my siblings and nephews and nieces any time the recipe is requested. So, today, I’m going to use my blog as a place where I can reference a favorite “nursery song” that is one of my children’s favorites. The first time I sang it to them it had them laughing and hollering for a good while at bedtime. I learned it from my sisters when I was a child, and they most likely learned it either at girls camp or from cousins in Utah or something. But of course when we sang it as kids we usually only sang a couple verses. Well, with my own kids it’s been more fun to see just how many verses we could get! And that involves referencing half a dozen websites. This is easier. So, just in case anyone else needs a good fun song to sing with their children, here’s all the verses I’ve compiled of an old family favorite “Throw it out the window” which is really just a way to play with all the old nursery rhymes. I'm sure I'll update it if I think of any other verses! Here's a reference for the tune if needed but you'll notice we didn't use exactly the same lyrics.

Mary had a little lamb

Its fleece was white as snow

and everywhere that Mary went

She threw it out the window,

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

And everywhere the Mary went

She threw it out the window.

Old mother Hubbard went to the cupboard

to fetch her poor dog a bone

but when she got there

the cupboard was bare

So she threw it out the window

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

When she got there the cupboard was bare so

She threw it out the window.

Little Jack Horner

Sat in his Corner

Eating his Christmas pie

He stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum

And he threw it out the window

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

He stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum

And he threw it out the window.

Little Miss Muffet sat on her Tuffet

Eating her curds and whey

Along came a spider which sat down beside her

So she threw it out the window

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

Along came a spider who sat down beside her so

She threw it out the window.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

All the king's horses

and all the king's men,

they threw him out the window.

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

All the kings horses and all the kings men,

they threw him out the window.

Jack and Jill went up the hill

to fetch a pail of water

Jack fell down and broke his crown 

and Jill threw him out the window

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

Jack fell down and broke his crown 

so Jill threw him out the window.

Hey diddle diddle,

The Cat and the Fiddle 

The Cow jumped over the moon

The little dog laughed to see such sport

So they threw him out the window

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

The little dog laughed to see such sport

so they threw him out the window.

Old king cole was a merry old soul

And a merry old soul was he

He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl

And he threw them out the window

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl

And he threw them out the window.

Mary Mary quite contrary 

how does your garden grow

with silver shells and cockle shells

She threw them out the window

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

with silver bells and cockle shells

She threw them out the window.

Little Bo Peep
Has lost her sheep,
And doesn't know where to find them;
But leave them alone,
And when they come home,
She'll throw them out the window.

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

with silver bells and cockle shells

She threw them out the window.

Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone
Oh where, oh where can he be?
With his ears cut short and his tail cut long
I'll throw him out the window

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

with his ears cut short and his tail cut long

I'll throw him out the window.

Yankee Doodle went to town
A-riding on a pony
He stuck a feather in his cap
And he threw it out the window

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

he stuck a feather in his cap 

And he threw it out the window.

A-tisket, a-tasket
A green and yellow basket
I wrote a letter to my love
And threw it out the window.

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

I wrote a letter to my love

And threw it out the window.

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater
Had a wife and couldn't feed her
He put her in a pumpkin shell
And he threw her out the window,

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

He put her in a pumpkin shell

And he threw her out the window.

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe
Had so many children she didn't know what to do
She gave them some broth without any bread

And threw them out the window

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

She gave them some broth without any bread,

And threw them out the window.

Twinkle twinkle little star

How I wonder what you are?

Up above the world so high,

Let's throw it out the window,

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

Up above the world so high,

Let's throw it out the window.

Old MacDonald had a farm, 

E-I-E-I-O

And on that farm he had a cow

And he threw it out the window,

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

And on that farm he had a cow

And he threw it out the window.

Rub-a-dub-dub
Three men in a tub
And who do you think they'd be?
The butcher, the baker
The candlestick-maker

Let's throw them out the window!

The Window, the Window,

The Second Story Window

The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker

Let's throw them out the window!

Lines in the Sand

One of the wisest, or hardest hitting pieces of advice I have ever been given was this: “you can have sex without kissing.” Context would give this more meaning but I’ll let this suffice for now.

Sometimes we create arbitrary boundaries, lines we write in the sand to ensure our safety. But sometimes the line in the sand makes us forget the ocean around us that we can drown in, or the cliffs we can fall from. 

That’s not to say boundaries and lines aren’t important, because they are. But we also need to remain aware of the temperature of the room, temperature of our thoughts, the depth of the issue, the expanse of possibilities. Sometimes we need to stop staring at the line, and look around at everything else that’s happening, and the consequences of those choices. 

And I don’t mean for the context of this to revolve solely around intimacy. Because it can apply to so many things. Our emotional well-being, our spiritual well-being, our moral or ethical well-being. All of these depend on expectations we set for ourselves, and sometimes expectations for others. But arbitrary lines in the sand without a framework for the why’s and the how’s and the when’s etc., leave room for loopholes. And those loopholes can be just as damaging as crossing the line in the sand if not more so. Sometimes those loopholes take us so far down the beach that you can’t even see the line you were worried about crossing. 

Sometimes it’s worth asking yourself, is this line in the sand keeping me safe? Or is this line in the sand giving me excuses to do everything but, despite the original intention of the line?

Balancing Genuine

One of the hardest things I find to balance is being genuine while also not over-sharing to the point of being annoying. This is my fear. 

I talk a lot about my anxiety and depression and struggles with same-sex attraction, or childhood trauma, struggles with church, or what have you. I talk about it on my blog. But I don’t talk a whole lot about it in person. People that see me and interact with me on a weekly basis at some point interact with me while I’m feeling anxious or triggered on some subject or another. But that fact usually goes unnoticed because I chat and I smile and things are normal. Inside my head they may not be but on the outside they’re normal. It’s not that I’m unwilling to talk about it, it just doesn’t usually feel like the right thing to say.

Sometimes I worry that when people find out after the fact that I did not feel on the inside what they were reading on my face, that this will alter the perception people have that I am genuine. That’s not my intention. I just know that my brain is overactive a lot of the time and while yes it feels more genuine to acknowledge that, 9 times out of 10 the setting doesn’t lend itself to that type of conversation and it’s not necessarily a conversation that needs to be had. And I fully acknowledge that what is going on inside my head is entirely my responsibility and it is nobody’s job to fix it but me. I don’t want talking about it to make people think that I need them to fix me. I also don’t want to be the negative Nancy that you tire of.

And it’s not like I’m incapable of other emotions while I’m also dealing with other things. For the most part what people read on my face is the emotion that’s the most relevant for the context I’m in whether there’s underlying things happening at the same time or not. And I think everyone can relate to that.. Or at least I’m pretty sure ;)

So how do I reconcile the two things? Being genuine and also not over sharing to the point that people are tired of all the negative… I don’t know. Sometimes it’s just acknowledging “I feel anxious today.” I’m not saying a whole conversation needs to be had, I’m just saying, this is me today. I come as I am. And then things can go the same way they would have gone had I not said anything. But I feel like I’m letting people in, and being genuine. 

Sometimes it’s saying “okay” when people ask “how are you?” because the answer is not “great” but I’m also not feeling “bad.” Although sometimes that question is tricky. “How are you?” can easily be a positive answer because I’m with YOU and therefore things are good. But “How have you been?” is usually the harder one to answer.

Sometimes, it’s writing a blog. Obviously I could choose to experience all the things and never talk about them. But I also remember how damaging it was when I felt like I couldn’t say anything. Writing lets me say what’s in my head without having to wait for the perfect context. But it serves multiple purposes. It helps me put things in words that I otherwise wouldn’t know how to talk about. It helps me let people in that I otherwise wouldn’t. It helps me process and deal with my emotions and thoughts. And I hope it makes things that aren’t talked about feel a little less taboo. And maybe it helps people know how to talk about some things too. It releases the lid from the bottle so I don’t explode. In some ways, writing is also to make me feel less alone. 

There’s not a perfect answer here. And I will likely keep struggling to find that balance and keep worrying that I’ve opened my mouth a little too wide and said a little too much. But I suppose the growth is in the struggle.

Let you love me

 Something I’ve been thinking about the last week is acts of service. Sort of? Can I say it’s a mix of acts of service and the love languages? I really enjoy knowing how people want to be loved. I want to be able to love them the way they want to be loved and not just how I find it easiest or most enjoyable to love others. Communication is really important to me, and part of that is that when I want to love on people, I don’t want to just love on them. I want them to feel that love. 

But sometimes that can be hard because people don’t want to burden you and therefore it can be difficult to get them to tell you what they need/want. And I totally get it. I am often like that. 

Realistically I’m usually fairly easy (in my opinion lol). I value communication. I like when people respond when I text/email/call/video chat/etc. And I like one on one time, to talk. That is the best gift. I suppose more than that, I like when I feel like I can be myself. When people are willing to talk about hard things and not just kids and the weather. When the hard subjects aren’t just subtly skirted and ignored, I feel more able to be myself. I like when people give me the same trust and are open about themselves with me too. Give and take.

But that's an aside. Recently I’ve had the chance to serve people. In really basic and easy ways. But it was apparent that it was something that made them feel loved. And that makes it all the more enjoyable. Because all I want is to make sure that my actions, whatever they may be, are ones that lead them to an inkling of how much they are loved. 

But the only way that happened is because they were willing and trusted me enough to give me an idea of what they needed. And they were willing to let me do it. And I have appreciated that so much. I feel loved by the sheer fact that they are communicating their needs with me, and trusting me to help. Communication and trust. 

But it also has made me realize that I am not good at letting people serve me. And maybe that’s because that’s not usually how I look for or expect love. But by the same token, sometimes we need to let people love us how they like to love even if it’s not the way we prefer to be loved. And that is something we can do to help them feel loved, and feel good about communicating their love to us. 

Because it seems only fair that I be willing to open myself up to people in ways that allow them to feel like they can communicate their love and appreciation for me. Because I have so enjoyed having the chance to feel like my love and appreciation for others is being felt and heard. And I can love others by letting them feel that way too.

That’s perhaps easier said than done. But perhaps if I have it in mind, it will be easier to do.

Sleeping on the Couch

Ever heard the phrase, “healing is not linear”?

I’ve never read that phrase at a time when I really felt like I needed to hear it. But the phrase has stuck with me so it’s been there when I needed it. If that makes sense. 

When my husband and I first got married I was pretty sure I was fine. My history with being sexually abused had no grasp on my intimate life. I was confident it didn’t. Until it did. I found myself often having flashbacks to childhood during intimate moments. I figured it was fine, I could ignore it and eventually it would go away. Which worked… and by worked I mean it kept happening but I kept ignoring it. Until it stopped working. 

One night I was 100% triggered. And I sort of snapped. I felt totally broken. It was like starting back at square one all over again. I had to figure out how to deal with loving my husband while also having him be the one that had triggered my feeling that way. One of the things that first led me to him when we started dating was that he never made me feel unsafe. And suddenly I didn’t feel safe. And I didn’t know how to reconcile that. That’s not to say that he did something really wrong. I was just susceptible to something going wrong.  And I hadn’t learned how to communicate what was happening in a way that helped him love me how I needed to be loved when I was feeling susceptible to those vulnerable triggering moments. 

COMMUNICATION, people! If ever there was a soapbox I could stand on…

Anyway. I won’t go into details here but it took a very long time for me to move past that feeling. Part of what helped was setting up boundaries. I needed to feel like I wasn’t stuck. I needed choices. If that meant sleeping on the couch, that’s what it meant. Because I had too much anxiety being in the same bed with someone else. I couldn’t fall asleep terrified of being touched—purposefully or accidentally. I needed to have control over whether or not it was a possibility that I might be touched. I needed to feel like that was my choice. And that my body was my own. I slept on the couch a lot. And I know it was hard for him that what his wife needed most was to be left alone. But I am still forever grateful that I had that when I needed it.

Eventually, my husband started sleeping on our other couch. That was a nice next step. He must have been inspired whether he knew it or not. Because we could be in the same room but not the same proximity as being in the same bed. I still had my safe space. And that helped. And it helped build up that feeling of feeling safe again. He was respecting my need for space while also expressing his desire to be close to me. And I felt loved. Eventually we started dragging the mattress into the living room, and having cute sort of sleepovers in the living room. And we eventually started sleeping in the same bed again. And it helped not being in the same room as the room where I had been triggered. Again, he must have been inspired because that was not my idea but it was a great idea. Although I think it may have been inspired by a dating bucket list we had made once upon a time that included the idea of watching Saturday morning cartoons in your pjs and eating cereal. That was probably why we did it that first night. We just kept doing it lol.

During the day the mattress just hung out in our hallway cuz why take it all the way to the bedroom when it was just going to get dragged back out again later that night? Eventually we put the bed back in our bedroom. I admit it kinda made me sad. I enjoyed our living room sleepovers. They were pretty cute. And I was nervous about being back in the room where it had started. It was kind of hard but okay, but I was very grateful to say goodbye to the memories attached to that apartment when we moved.

And still it’s taken years since then for me to get to a place where I could tell him in a nice way when I needed my personal bubble to be a bit bigger that night. And I love him for respecting my bubble when I need one. And I love him for forgiving my faults and failings again and again. And while I’m in a good place right now in this regard, I won’t claim to be 100% healed, or that it will never be an issue again. 

Because healing isn’t linear. I think maybe I need to remind myself that it’s okay to apply that to other things like how I feel about church or God too. It’s okay for my progress to not be linear.

Beyond Belief

In some ways, listening to General Conference is hard. I have struggled the last few years to describe my testimony, or my faith. I believe in God. I believe in Christ. I believe in the prophets and the apostles. I believe in my church leaders. I believe. But do I have faith? Sometimes I think I do. Sometimes I think I don’t. Sometimes I have been so overrun with depression that I have felt so apathetic that I could not feel anything. I could not feel the spirit, I could not feel sadness, I could not feel joy. Sometimes, even though I don’t feel overrun by depression, I feel awash with the feeling that while I know God loves me, I fear it is not in the way that I want to be loved. 

Someone once asked me the question, “how do I know God loves me?” The answer to that feels simple and clear. The actual answer I gave is probably too long for this forum, so here is an excerpt from how I answered that question:

“If I believe in God then I know that He loves me enough to allow me agency.

If I believe I am a daughter of God, I must believe He loves me. Because I am His daughter, and God is perfect and a perfect father loves their children.

If I believe in Christ then I believe that God sent His son to die for me, which means that He loves me.

If I believe in the atonement of Christ then I must also believe that God wants me to return to Him, which means He loves me.

If I believe God wants me to love and serve my neighbor, it must be because He loves them. And if I am their neighbor then by the same token, He wants them to love and serve me, and that He loves me too.

If I believe in the afterlife as we do, then I believe that God wants me to grow and progress.

If I believe in repentance then I know that God is willing to love and forgive me despite the terrible things that I’ve done and the rest of my imperfections.

If I believe in prayer then I know that God listens to me.

If I believe in the Holy Ghost, then I know that He loves me because He has sent means through which I can receive confirmation of His truths for myself and not just follow blindly in all things.

If I believe in the Holy Ghost then I know that He loves me because He has given me the means by which I can receive comfort and feel Him.”

But notice that every answer I gave has the stipulation “If I believe.” Because I wasn’t 100% certain that I did believe. And it’s not because I don’t believe. Like I said, I do. But it is with some hesitancy that I haven’t been able to define. And today I finally feel like I can define the why for my hesitancy. This feels weird to admit outside my own brain, but sitting, watching General Conference today, the answer to that felt clear. Right now, while I believe in God… I do not love him.

Some of you aren’t even sure how that works. Or, I am clearly very ungrateful. How can I be aware of the many great and wonderful things about God and not love him? That’s a subject for another day so I won’t try to answer that right now. 

But it answers so many questions. Why do I feel like I believe but can’t have faith? Because I cannot fully trust, that which I do not love. At the end of her General Conference talk today, Michelle D. Craig said “When we love Jesus Christ, he gives us all in return.” And that was the moment I thought… I don’t love him. 

I think one of the reasons why I like to ask people about their testimonies of God and Jesus Christ are because I enjoy feeling uplifted and inspired by their love for Him. I also love getting to know people by learning about their passions. But it is also one of the most vulnerable questions I can ask people. Because, per normal social standard, their response is often to follow up by asking me to share my own testimony of faith and love. And admitting that I don’t feel the same feels more vulnerable than anything else, especially in that moment after hearing their confidence in faith. I feel inadequate and subpar and I want the attention off me. And the follow up often includes an attempt to fix me. And I do not feel fixable. But I love my friends, and I love the light in their eyes when they talk of what they love. So I’ll keep asking because I love supporting people in their faith. And I love seeing their love. 

I don’t have an answer right now. And I’m not looking for someone to solve it for me. But knowing what the problem is gives me hope for fixing it. And that will do for now.