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.