Memories are interesting. They can make us laugh out loud in a public space. They can bring us to our knees with heaving sobs. They can shape who we are. I saw something that said, You don't know what a moment means until it becomes a memory. I liked that. I also feel like art imbued with memories or based off memories is a charming thing. I made a video in college for one of my classes with Daniel Everett on this topic. It's called Peanut People, and it stems from when I was a child and would go to a job site with my dad. I remember eating peanuts and putting the shells on my fingers as hair, personifying each finger.
When I was a kid I had a presentation at school in front of the whole third grade and my mom was supposed to be there, but she didn't make it because she got caught in Phoenix (I get it, I'm not upset about this). I remember sitting there looking for her, trying to stall because I knew she wouldn't miss it, she came to all of our things. I thought she would be sad if she got there right after I went. So when it was my turn I stood there, with my poster, looking over the audience, waiting for her to walk in. Silently. I remember a teacher standing close to me just behind the curtain, calling me over to her in a whisper. My mom was so reliably always supporting us that I knew she would come. But this time she didn't.
I think this contributed to the buddings of my trust issues. They weren't a big deal back then, they didn't interfere with my happy naive life. But as I grew older I learned to fortify the walls I slowly built around my heart. With each failed relationship, unmet expectation, or unforeseen bend in the road on the path my life is taking I added to the combination lock protecting my heart. I depicted this idea back in 2008 when I sculpted this self portrait. Back then the correct combination was L-O-V-E. I spent a lot of time planning all the options. I know H-A-T-E was an option. But if I were to create this again, I wouldn't use letters to spell out one word. I would use words that would represent qualities I need in a person before I can let them into my heart. Words like Trustworthy, Honest, Kind, Faithful, Open, Loving, Affectionate, Understanding, and Real would likely be on there.
I think most people who are divorced have trust issues. I certainly do. The person I trusted most with my heart, my hopes and dreams, my body, my challenges or failures, discarded his promises to me and his affection for me. He withdrew himself from our relationship, proving not to be the devoted spouse I thought I had found. He became someone I didn't know or want to know. I resent him because I have difficulty remembering that time of my life. It's like a picture in my mind that's too dark to see everything. I can see that it's a picture of a small family with a couple kids who maybe were in a dance class, but it's too blurry and hazy to make out the details. I feel like he robbed me of that time with my children. And I feel like he continues to take my time with my children from me because I have to share them with him every week. It's the worst and hardest thing about being divorced! And I feel like I am always the one sacrificing. I'm the one who has to hold my crying daughters when I tell them it's time to go to his house. I'm the one who hears they don't get to see me enough. I'm the one constantly having to see the good in the situation, even when it feels selfish.
When I was a kid I had a presentation at school in front of the whole third grade and my mom was supposed to be there, but she didn't make it because she got caught in Phoenix (I get it, I'm not upset about this). I remember sitting there looking for her, trying to stall because I knew she wouldn't miss it, she came to all of our things. I thought she would be sad if she got there right after I went. So when it was my turn I stood there, with my poster, looking over the audience, waiting for her to walk in. Silently. I remember a teacher standing close to me just behind the curtain, calling me over to her in a whisper. My mom was so reliably always supporting us that I knew she would come. But this time she didn't.
I think this contributed to the buddings of my trust issues. They weren't a big deal back then, they didn't interfere with my happy naive life. But as I grew older I learned to fortify the walls I slowly built around my heart. With each failed relationship, unmet expectation, or unforeseen bend in the road on the path my life is taking I added to the combination lock protecting my heart. I depicted this idea back in 2008 when I sculpted this self portrait. Back then the correct combination was L-O-V-E. I spent a lot of time planning all the options. I know H-A-T-E was an option. But if I were to create this again, I wouldn't use letters to spell out one word. I would use words that would represent qualities I need in a person before I can let them into my heart. Words like Trustworthy, Honest, Kind, Faithful, Open, Loving, Affectionate, Understanding, and Real would likely be on there.
I think most people who are divorced have trust issues. I certainly do. The person I trusted most with my heart, my hopes and dreams, my body, my challenges or failures, discarded his promises to me and his affection for me. He withdrew himself from our relationship, proving not to be the devoted spouse I thought I had found. He became someone I didn't know or want to know. I resent him because I have difficulty remembering that time of my life. It's like a picture in my mind that's too dark to see everything. I can see that it's a picture of a small family with a couple kids who maybe were in a dance class, but it's too blurry and hazy to make out the details. I feel like he robbed me of that time with my children. And I feel like he continues to take my time with my children from me because I have to share them with him every week. It's the worst and hardest thing about being divorced! And I feel like I am always the one sacrificing. I'm the one who has to hold my crying daughters when I tell them it's time to go to his house. I'm the one who hears they don't get to see me enough. I'm the one constantly having to see the good in the situation, even when it feels selfish.
I realize I have trust issues but I think it's begun to really affect my life and the way I perceive the world. Deep in my mind, I believe that once someone gets to know me they won't want to be with me. This has happened every time I've had a relationship. Or even an almost relationship. The last guy I've had real feeling for said he feels the same, but doesn't want a relationship. And this other guy seems like he wants to date me now, but I know that once he gets to know me better he will realize that I'm not what he's looking for. I don't know what it is about me that makes me undesirable. I've worked really hard on myself to be the best I can be. I know I still have flaws, but I am working on them. I have a clear and positive outlook most of the time. I keep Christ at the center of my life. Maybe I'm just boring.
I have a friend on facebook who recently posted about emotional abuse. She shared this article and some of her thoughts on it. I couldn't help but think of my own experiences with emotional abuse. One of the things my ex-husband would do throughout our marriage was make comments attacking what I said. He would make me feel like I didn't have anything worthwhile to say and that I should keep my mouth shut.
When I have a conversation with someone, interjecting with small comments or jokes is a natural part to add to the flow of it. This is how my sister's and I talk with each other and they are my best friends. So when I was clearly actively listening to him and engaged in the conversation with him I was taken aback, hurt, and confused when he declared, "this is why it's so hard to talk to you." I've been careful about what I say and when I speak ever since. I feel fear when I do talk or interject because obviously people hate that and therefore me. He would even get upset with me when we would admire the moon at the same time. He would point it out first and I would say something like, "Yeah I just saw that!" He would then ask why I didn't point it out to him -- at first I thought he was joking, but now I'm not so sure.
I had a friend tell me recently that I was funny. In my mind I was like, I'm funny? Wahoo! I've always been the funny one with my sisters, not that they aren't funny, but my silliness is beyond ridiculous. I am slowly learning that when I talk, 1) people do listen, and 2) what I have to say does matter, is enjoyable, and appreciated. Austin didn't value what I had to say. I know this because he would disregard my feelings and advice.
After he graduated from law school he didn't have a job lined up and it took some time to find the right place. While normal, this was understandably frustrating for him, and like many others I've heard about, weakened his faith. He worked with the ACLU in SLC over the summer as he applied for different jobs. When the gay marriage laws passed, his coworkers had a party and took a group picture to celebrate. He told me then that he didn't know how he felt about it, so he opted to take the picture rather than to be in it.
During that summer he talked with me about some questions that arose because he read the blog of someone who was recently excommunicated. This blogger used a public platform to ask questions that were difficult, perhaps with no clear secular answers. Asking questions is fine, good even, but not on a public forum. The problem here is that there are people who may find what he writes but aren't ready or capable of thinking about these or have the tools to truly understand God's plan and then they fall away. It's not faith building.
1 Corinthians 8:9 But take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours become a stumblingblock to them that are weak.
When Austin told me about these questions that turned out to be the beginning of his way out of the church, I told him my view on them. I thought he was satisfied with what I had to say on the topic, but apparently he was not. When I learned he was still exploring this other blog I asked him to not read any more anti stuff. He actually told me okay. Obviously he didn't mean it. He had asked me to do (or to not do) specific things previously and I respected him enough to comply. He didn't respect me enough to heed my wisdom. Or talk with religion professors at BYU. Or Becky. Or his parents. Or the bishop. Or with me further about what he was really going through and thinking until it was too late.
It's like murder.
If you obsess over something with hate in your heart it will fester in your mind, creating a darkness that will overtake your whole life. If you talk to someone about it or seek forgiveness, you can be set free. You won't have to think about it any more. In my mind obsessing over what we don't, or can't know in this life is like this. Just accept that there are things God understands, that we cannot right now, and know He's got your back if you rely on and trust in Him. But if you plot and plan against Him, then sooner or later, you'll commit murder. And it will not be truth and light that is extinguished, but yourself. This is what happened. He wouldn't talk to me about his questions. He didn't talk to anyone. He just kept digging, finding more ways to hammer the wedge between him and God, whether they were founded on truth or just parading as such.
Then he flipped the switch and BOOM! He was gone. Like a suicide bomber. Like a vial of poison -- he swallowed the lies of anti and exmo. Like swallowing a bullet. Like jumping in front of a bus or off a cliff. He was gone. And it was his own choice. Because he didn't trust me or value what I had to say enough to listen to me. He didn't want it to be true enough to defend God and His plan. He didn't fight for his his family, or for me.
I have been feeling unheard and unneeded. I am grateful for the support I receive and for the inexpensive living arrangement I have. But I feel like I need and want more of my own space. I try to be as self-reliant as possible, but then I feel like my mom expects us to join them for dinner every night. It is easier, but easy isn't always better. It doesn't give me purpose. It's like eating together is part of what I pay in rent. I feel useless and underutilized. I miss cooking with Becky. I got to help cook the dinner for last nights book club. We had a four course meal. It was so fun cooking with someone. I just wish that if we're going to eat together regularly, that we could do it like a dinner group.
Monday: Mom cooks
Tuesday: Take-out
Wednesday: Lisa cooks
Thursday: Kimber cooks
Friday: Date night
Saturday: Solo
Sunday: Family dinner, where we can all contribute or we can do our own things
Last week when my parents were out of town for education week at BYU, I felt more of a purpose in life. I got to cook and clean and live independently. And it felt so good. I need more opportunity to be seen as valued and feel like I matter. When I don't get to cook or help or contribute or have a calling or ministering people, my gloomy thoughts of being alone tell me that if I wasn't around no one would notice or care.
Though I don't have a calling or anyone to minister to, I serve where I can. My friends on the activities committee in our single adult ward have let me help them with their callings. I have helped with food and shopping before, but this week I was asked to lead the discussion at book club. It made sense because we (finally) read the book I have been wanting to read. I thought it would give me purpose and let me feel like I belong, but it was hijacked and the notes and questions I spend a few hours preparing earlier in the week got tossed in the trash because no one would listen to me. I just wanted to serve, but I feel like I failed.
To make matters worse, I had to deal with someone who was once one of my best friends, flaunt that he is friends and friendly with everyone around me, but wont address me or talk to me at all. It really surprised me that he could be such a jerk. I really don't know what to do. I feel like I should keep giving him chances and the benefit of the doubt. This seems like charity to me.
Moroni 7:45 And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
(I really can't think of this scripture without thinking of Chelsea and her actions to help us memorize it.) But at the same time I feel like that could be foolish, and perpetuate the hurt that comes from his estranged behavior.
With the combination of these emotional battles I'm dealing with that are making me feel unwanted, I needed to destroy something. I got some of the left over vegetables, my best friend, and a baseball bat, and went out to the desert. We spent some time exploding mushrooms, squashing tomatoes, and giving the eggplant a beating. It was fun and silly, and it really did help to make me feel better.
I think everyone knows of Kristina Kuzmic. She has talked about how she felt after her divorce. It's a very difficult situation. But she shared a story about how she got out of her own depressed bubble by serving others. Service really is such an incredibly powerful tool. You don't do it just to feel better about yourself, but when you do it you do feel better. She had to remember what she was good at. And when she figured it out she was able bring joy to others, which in turn, brought her joy.
When I have a conversation with someone, interjecting with small comments or jokes is a natural part to add to the flow of it. This is how my sister's and I talk with each other and they are my best friends. So when I was clearly actively listening to him and engaged in the conversation with him I was taken aback, hurt, and confused when he declared, "this is why it's so hard to talk to you." I've been careful about what I say and when I speak ever since. I feel fear when I do talk or interject because obviously people hate that and therefore me. He would even get upset with me when we would admire the moon at the same time. He would point it out first and I would say something like, "Yeah I just saw that!" He would then ask why I didn't point it out to him -- at first I thought he was joking, but now I'm not so sure.
I had a friend tell me recently that I was funny. In my mind I was like, I'm funny? Wahoo! I've always been the funny one with my sisters, not that they aren't funny, but my silliness is beyond ridiculous. I am slowly learning that when I talk, 1) people do listen, and 2) what I have to say does matter, is enjoyable, and appreciated. Austin didn't value what I had to say. I know this because he would disregard my feelings and advice.
After he graduated from law school he didn't have a job lined up and it took some time to find the right place. While normal, this was understandably frustrating for him, and like many others I've heard about, weakened his faith. He worked with the ACLU in SLC over the summer as he applied for different jobs. When the gay marriage laws passed, his coworkers had a party and took a group picture to celebrate. He told me then that he didn't know how he felt about it, so he opted to take the picture rather than to be in it.
During that summer he talked with me about some questions that arose because he read the blog of someone who was recently excommunicated. This blogger used a public platform to ask questions that were difficult, perhaps with no clear secular answers. Asking questions is fine, good even, but not on a public forum. The problem here is that there are people who may find what he writes but aren't ready or capable of thinking about these or have the tools to truly understand God's plan and then they fall away. It's not faith building.
1 Corinthians 8:9 But take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours become a stumblingblock to them that are weak.
When Austin told me about these questions that turned out to be the beginning of his way out of the church, I told him my view on them. I thought he was satisfied with what I had to say on the topic, but apparently he was not. When I learned he was still exploring this other blog I asked him to not read any more anti stuff. He actually told me okay. Obviously he didn't mean it. He had asked me to do (or to not do) specific things previously and I respected him enough to comply. He didn't respect me enough to heed my wisdom. Or talk with religion professors at BYU. Or Becky. Or his parents. Or the bishop. Or with me further about what he was really going through and thinking until it was too late.
It's like murder.
If you obsess over something with hate in your heart it will fester in your mind, creating a darkness that will overtake your whole life. If you talk to someone about it or seek forgiveness, you can be set free. You won't have to think about it any more. In my mind obsessing over what we don't, or can't know in this life is like this. Just accept that there are things God understands, that we cannot right now, and know He's got your back if you rely on and trust in Him. But if you plot and plan against Him, then sooner or later, you'll commit murder. And it will not be truth and light that is extinguished, but yourself. This is what happened. He wouldn't talk to me about his questions. He didn't talk to anyone. He just kept digging, finding more ways to hammer the wedge between him and God, whether they were founded on truth or just parading as such.
Then he flipped the switch and BOOM! He was gone. Like a suicide bomber. Like a vial of poison -- he swallowed the lies of anti and exmo. Like swallowing a bullet. Like jumping in front of a bus or off a cliff. He was gone. And it was his own choice. Because he didn't trust me or value what I had to say enough to listen to me. He didn't want it to be true enough to defend God and His plan. He didn't fight for his his family, or for me.
I have been feeling unheard and unneeded. I am grateful for the support I receive and for the inexpensive living arrangement I have. But I feel like I need and want more of my own space. I try to be as self-reliant as possible, but then I feel like my mom expects us to join them for dinner every night. It is easier, but easy isn't always better. It doesn't give me purpose. It's like eating together is part of what I pay in rent. I feel useless and underutilized. I miss cooking with Becky. I got to help cook the dinner for last nights book club. We had a four course meal. It was so fun cooking with someone. I just wish that if we're going to eat together regularly, that we could do it like a dinner group.
Monday: Mom cooks
Tuesday: Take-out
Wednesday: Lisa cooks
Thursday: Kimber cooks
Friday: Date night
Saturday: Solo
Sunday: Family dinner, where we can all contribute or we can do our own things
Last week when my parents were out of town for education week at BYU, I felt more of a purpose in life. I got to cook and clean and live independently. And it felt so good. I need more opportunity to be seen as valued and feel like I matter. When I don't get to cook or help or contribute or have a calling or ministering people, my gloomy thoughts of being alone tell me that if I wasn't around no one would notice or care.
Though I don't have a calling or anyone to minister to, I serve where I can. My friends on the activities committee in our single adult ward have let me help them with their callings. I have helped with food and shopping before, but this week I was asked to lead the discussion at book club. It made sense because we (finally) read the book I have been wanting to read. I thought it would give me purpose and let me feel like I belong, but it was hijacked and the notes and questions I spend a few hours preparing earlier in the week got tossed in the trash because no one would listen to me. I just wanted to serve, but I feel like I failed.
To make matters worse, I had to deal with someone who was once one of my best friends, flaunt that he is friends and friendly with everyone around me, but wont address me or talk to me at all. It really surprised me that he could be such a jerk. I really don't know what to do. I feel like I should keep giving him chances and the benefit of the doubt. This seems like charity to me.
Moroni 7:45 And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
(I really can't think of this scripture without thinking of Chelsea and her actions to help us memorize it.) But at the same time I feel like that could be foolish, and perpetuate the hurt that comes from his estranged behavior.
With the combination of these emotional battles I'm dealing with that are making me feel unwanted, I needed to destroy something. I got some of the left over vegetables, my best friend, and a baseball bat, and went out to the desert. We spent some time exploding mushrooms, squashing tomatoes, and giving the eggplant a beating. It was fun and silly, and it really did help to make me feel better.
I think everyone knows of Kristina Kuzmic. She has talked about how she felt after her divorce. It's a very difficult situation. But she shared a story about how she got out of her own depressed bubble by serving others. Service really is such an incredibly powerful tool. You don't do it just to feel better about yourself, but when you do it you do feel better. She had to remember what she was good at. And when she figured it out she was able bring joy to others, which in turn, brought her joy.
So I asked myself: What am I good at? I am good at art. I'm good at cooking. I'm good at recognizing the beauty around me. In fact, this week I witnessed an amazing sunset. The majestic and bubbling clouds were glowing rich with gold and pink and orange. As I stood gazing up at it with my kids we talked about how it must be what Heaven looks like. I remember watching sunsets in Arizona growing up and thinking the same thing.
The next morning as we listened to one of our favorite CDs from Calee Reed, the song What Heaven Feels Like came on. Eva commented that we should have listened to it last night while we were watching the sunset. I agreed. I love to focus on the good around me and find the Lord's hand in my life. I don't always do this. Obviously, considering how dark and dreary this post has come out. But when I do, I think that's as close to what heaven feels like as we can get on this earth, outside of the temple. I think this is something else I'm good at. I think this is one of my gifts of the Spirit.
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