Who Am I ??!

Growing up I knew exactly who I was. 

First and foremost, I was a child of God. 

I was a beloved daughter and sister in my family. I was the redheaded, middle-child, artist, who loved to climb trees and play in the mud.

In college I wanted to break out of my shy shell, so I prayed to be more witty. And I made sure to be socially active. As I went to BYU that means a lot of game nights, hikes, movie nights, random adventures, prayer circles, dances, and maybe even a special guest lecturer, and so on.

As I've grown older I've realized one of my key identities has been sister to The Great Becky Boughan (now Walton)! I have always looked up to her. I have always heeded her counsel, and worried about disappointing her. I was a copy of her. And that is no bad thing! Becky is my best friend and I look up to her in every way. And not just because she's taller than I am. 

We walk in sync.

We laugh at the same things.

We look alike, after all, we are twins - separated at birth by two years.

The biggest difference is our hands. We are not identical hand twins. We sometimes joke that we forget which one we are, so we say, "Who am I?" dramatically and check our hands. hahaha. I can't even write that without giggling. We're hilarious. 

But

Then I got married and had to live with a boy. Sure he was smart and funny and hansom. But he wasn't Becky. Now I had to learn who I was as a married woman. Who didn't get to live with her sister, the famous Becky Boughan. It was very hard. Thankfully we didn't live far from each other so we still got to see each other almost everyday. Life was mostly good

But THEN

My husband and I did something we swore we'd never do. We moved back to the hottest, driest, ugliest place we knew of: Arizona. This is where hell fire rains and burns you from the bottom of your feet if you dare go barefoot. Or stings your skin if you leave the cool inside for even a moment. And don't get me started on what can happen in a car... 

But the worst hellfire was when my husband who I had chosen for his spiritual knowledge and dedicated lifestyle, denounced God and turned against me. He seemed to despise me because I wouldn't let go of what I knew to be true. I cannot see light and declare it darkness. Even when I'm having darkness thrown at me like stones used to silence. 

That journey through hellfire was touch-erous. It pushed me to compromise rules that I had lived by in order to be a "good Mormon," and to be like Becky, and to not let her down. But going out to eat with his family on an occasional Sunday or watching an MA show together was worth it in order to try to connect with the man I made a commitment to. But all the compromises seemed to be on my part.

I would sit late at night and write down as many of his good qualities I could think of, which was not easy at this point. I was so broken down. He would write late at night about all the things he disliked about me. Trying vs. not trying, I guess. Or maybe we were just trying for different things. He was trying to push me away, and I was trying to hold on to my life. I felt like a loose tooth about to come, but I was holding on for dear life. Holding on to God. Trusting Him. Waiting for my Sunday.

I was doing the same thing I did with Becky, and if I really think about it, all the rest of the friends I've ever been really close with. I was letting myself mold into someone they would approve of. But who is the person I approve of? What do I even like doing? What genre of book or movie actually interests me? What am I even good at? Now that I've been through a divorce, let me assure you, I know many things I am not good at.

Don't worry, my story gets happy again. I met a great guy, who recognized how amazing I was. he saw past the baggage I was holding from the trauma I endured for two years. He'd hold me and let me cry when I missed my kids. He was the best boyfriend a girl could ask for. Not the greatest fiancé, though. Especially when he ghosted me. Three weeks before our wedding day.

Now I've been abandoned by the person who is supposed to love me, stand by me, defend me, and protect me most in the world. Twice. 

So now I ask with earnest heart. WHO AM I?

At the end of my marriage I went to Art to try to remember who I was. I painted a lot of barren desert landscapes. My reasoning was because that is what's real. Have no clue what influence that body of work.

Then I moved on to drawing high emotions. Faces that have felt tragedy. 

But now I feel discouraged by art. I'm insanely talented. My skill that far surpasses people who are making a lot of money and generating a lot of views. I've pivoted to working in aviation and I'm overall incredibly happy there. I like my coworkers and my flight benefits. But I'm still searching for who I am and what I like.

I've thought through every stage of my life. 

Early childhood I remember riding my bike. Following Becky and her friends around. Climbing trees. Playing Super Mario Bros. Watching clouds change shapes. Kitties.

Teen years I learned pottery, printmaking, photography, and broadened my overall artistic knowledge. I like making forts and rivers outside. I went to mutual and girls camp. Becky didn't like girls camp, so I felt some turmoil because I kind of did. I actually thought it was really fun and I liked sliding down the muddy mountain side in the rain, making up silly skits, talking to other girls who weren't the stuck up brats in my ward. I always looked forward to the fourth year, because that's when they got to go kayaking. Becky hated her fourth year. It was too hot and sunny for her. She's more of an indoor princess. But, When my fourth year came we didn't get to do any of that because our state was engulfed in forest fires. But my favorite part of camp was the singing trees. When we all went out to thick trees with our flashlights and sat in our own ward groups. Then one by one each group would shine their light up into the branches and sing our prepared song. it was beautiful. and powerful.

In college I found myself keeping a journal to help work through my thoughts and feelings. I would often go up the Provo canyon to feel peace and think. Just being in nature and letting myself feel grounded was so nourishing to my soul. I went to the temple a lot. And I majored in Art.

The common thing throughout my life that has brought me comfort and joy, other than art, has been nature. Being outside. Being close to God's creations. Even when I was married we would go on hikes. God's earth brings me closer to Him. Which brings me closer to who I am. 

A child of God.

Parenting Styles

One of the most ridiculous "issues" in our relationship was our differing parenting styles. But here's the thing. I have a parenting style, he doesn't. So the fact that he let that scare him so much was really dumb, because he didn't do any research on what parenting styles are. The pros and cons of each of them. And he never tried to define what mine was or his was. 

This frustrated me because for a long time he used it as the main reason why we couldn't get married. He has since admitted the true reason and has shown true sorrow and remorse. His honesty and openness recently has somehow freed me and has allowed me to talk about what I've been through.

Here's the parallel I've found. Trevor taught me how to play poker, it has become something we both enjoy. I enjoy playing passively, and have zero interest in becoming an expert, a shark, or a professional. He, however, has had a lot of experience playing. He has read books. He follows poker players on YouTube. He has taken trips to play full time. He has made a lot of money learning and developing this skill. For him, he views it intellectually more than recreationally. I have learned a lot about it alongside him. He's always had a knack for numbers and statistics, which all goes into poker. It really is an incredible and complex game.

While he has spend hours learning and studying the game of poker, and practicing what he's learned in real life, I too, have studied, and implemented all I could about being a good parent. From college courses, to online articles, to mom groups, to tiktoks discussions. I have immersed in motherhood and parenthood. I have prayed and received blessings, and counseled in therapy, and have listened to the gentle guiding's from the Spirit as to how to handle the things my kids go through. 

I am a good mom.

I know what my kids need. I'm in tune with their needs. God has given me stewardship over them, and as a righteous daughter of God, and a single mom, I am empowered with the specific divine wisdom I need to raise strong, compassionate, emotionally stable, God-trusting women. I am not coddling them when I react in love or kindness. I am not being a pushover when I listen to their thoughts or feelings and have a conversation with them instead of dismissing them. I validate them and their feelings and I do all I can to meet their needs. 

Kindness matters.

And the thing that really gets me is the fact that the qualities he found to be so different than his idea of what parenting should be, are the things he loved and appreciated in me in our relationship. There are no double standards with me. I'm not going to treat him with gentleness and my kids with harshness. I don't think that punishment is the best form of rehabilitation. It's obvious it didn't work for him, so why the f would I want to incorporate that in parenting my children??

I read an article recently that spurred this entry into existence. It was about a video a mom made about being raised by boomers and how she has had to re-parent herself. As a psychotherapist she learned the destructive normalities of each generations parenting styles. She talked about what was normal for millennials growing up, and the negative purpose of the consequences we had as children.

Punishment is intended to let the receiver feel hurt or pain from their poor choice.

Instead of teaching kids what is expected or how to handle or react to things, our parents would say things like "because I said so, that's why." "Go to your room." We were put in time out or spanked. Or in some cases beaten or ridiculed. Still, my generation, or at least my sisters and I, were treated like humans. 

Switches or Hot Wheel tracks were used before my time. And children should be seen and not heard had been the norm not too long before that. 

~~~~~

If you google parenting Styles this is what comes up:

Parenting styles can range from controlling and demanding to loving and receptive. Some common parenting styles include:

• Authoritarian

  Parents are restrictive and punitive, with firm limits and little verbal exchange. They emphasize following directions and demand obedience without considering the child's point of view.
• Authoritative

  Parents are firm but loving, providing nurturing, emotional support, discipline, and guidance. They encourage independence within limits, and this style is often recommended as the best modern-day parenting style.
• Permissive

  Parents are loving but don't exert much control, and there are low levels of demandingness. This style can be indulgent or neglectful.
• Neglectful

  Parents are uninvolved and emotionally unavailable, not providing emotional support or guidance and taking minimal responsibility for their children's welfare. They may be literally not at home or simply don't give their children any attention at all.
• Attachment

  This loving style focuses on healthy parent-child attachment and bonding, and is meant to help children feel secure and connected to their guardians.
• Helicopter

  This variation of authoritarian parenting is when parents are overly involved in their child's life, often hovering over them to make sure they are safe. They have a strong desire to control all outcomes of the child's life.

While I have a lot of fear and anxiety about the idiotic choices and ignorant leniency of my ex-husband, I strive to allow my children to take risks as safely as possible. I have also witnessed parents of my students helicopter parent, and it was heartbreaking to see their need for control diminish their child's creativity and confidence.

I think My parenting style is a hybrid of Authoritative and Attachment and I'm ok with that.

"you carried me there"

 I heard this song randomly on the radio last night and it hit me harder than I thought it would at this point. Sat in my car and let myself cry for a little bit.

You told me I was the one you couldn't live without

And the way that you said it, I believed it like a vow (like a vow)

Maybe I got carried away, and baby, that's fair

But you can't call me crazy 'cause you carried me there

The way that you said it, I believed it like a vow

Don't mean nothing now

Have you ever been left when you should have been loved?

Yes. Too many times.