Under Pressure

I hate writing. It brings out an annoying, dark, pessimistic side in me and ruins my day. So I don't do it often. Unless I have a swirling soup of thoughts in my head that are about to boil over. Today I admit the thoughts in my head don't seem as tinged with darkness as they sometimes are, even though they are the same thoughts I've written about before. I've been reflecting about my stay at home life.

Remember when I said I would be perfectly happy staying home and never having to deal with the outside world/society ever again? I still would be, though I'd also like to add "mom" to that. However that department has not changed. But that agitated feeling of guilt, that has made me miserable, that I blamed on the world, has changed. Well, the guilt hasn't actually changed, I just found something else in it.

I'm still angry at the world, but since it's been so long that I've been forced to interact with it on a daily basis it's accurate to say it's on a back burner on a much lower heat. What I've been calling guilt, I've discovered, actually isn't just guilt. Something else got smashed into with it that needed to be separated from it. Pressure. I realized that a lot of what I was calling guilt was pressure. Now that might seem redundant since I've talked about the pressures that society has put on me and people like me that led to the guilt of staying at home, but it's not the same pressure, as I'll explain.

As a person who suffers from anxiety and depression hearing the word "pressure" could send me in a downward spiral of fear till I was as frozen as an ice block. But you and I would both be surprised to know that it didn't happen. It just sat there when I found it, just floating there. It hung there like one of those gems you'd pick up in some video game in order to receive more points. Completely benign, unassuming and- dare I say, kind? At this point it occurred to me that maybe like those gems in those video games that this pressure could be good. But why was it good? What had I'd done to find it? And what would it mean if I picked it up and added it to my sack like in those MPGs? I'd like to say that my answers to these questions were some brilliant insight that I had learned while being at home all these years, but the fact that I'm discovering this as I type would make that a lie. But I have an inkling of where to start to find these answers.

To say that I've changed grossly these passed few years would be an overstatement. I'm still lazy, I still don't have a legit job, I still have depression and anxiety, I still complain, and oh, the obvious, I still can't have kids. If any minute changes have happened of late, it would be the following: I hate the dog and the bird; A bunny died; I painted a painting; sold a few necklaces and paintings; I got a new nephew; and I decided that life does matter.

As one of the most apathetic people on the planet, an astounding political/social statement as "life does matter" seems to be more anti-apathetic and might seem more like it fits in the big changes of my life instead of the small ones. You'd be right, sort of. I say that because it's more like one of those stones that you get and you put it in your rock polisher and it comes out all shiny and smooth and brilliantly colored in pinks and oranges and purples. (I so wish I had one of those growing up.) It's always been there, under some roughness and was never noticed until suddenly I decided to care and polish it up and embolden its surface. If anything, the decision to care should be in the "bigger changes" pile rather than that one statement. Caring does not come naturally to me, I'm apathetic. But caring about some political stance is pretty small scale compared to what I should be caring about like- your family, your spouse, your physical and spiritual well being. So beginning to care about one thing may not be life altering or belong in the "great changes of my life" category, but because I think it's just a tiny piece of a bigger change I felt I should mention it.

Apathy has been my life. I've never really thought about anything. Sure, I did think of things, but I never really thought about things. I was born into a good home with intelligent, supportive parents who taught me things and were members of the church and filled my life with the gospel and with people who were great examples to me. But all of that just blurred together and was  in a state of "just there". I was "just there". Coasting through life, some might call it. I called it oblivion.

I was oblivious to everything, kind of like a person might be oblivious to the small amount of red, blue, or yellow pigment color in the white paint on your wall that gave it a name like "frost" or "calcium" or "falling snow". You didn't know that did you? It's just a white wall. That was my life. Up until I started college and slowly, the world I had been blind to had finally started coming into focus. Not just the things that I never knew about as a kid, but things that I had grown up with, that were pounded into my brain since I could walk. I was beginning to see the color pigment on that white wall that I had spent my entire life staring at. Unfortunately though that wall, my wall, was no longer alone. I found another wall behind me and I was beginning to see it's pigment too. I can't say what color or colors the other wall would have been, but it was ugly. That wall was the world, the world I hated because it made me feel guilty, it made me depressed, it made me angry, it made my life hard. That wall blasted me with hatred. All I could do to escape it was to close my eyes and hide from it. It felt safe with my eyes closed. But it was dark, and I was blind once again. The guilt and hatred in me began to fade into the darkness.

Then that guilt came forward again, but without the power of the hatred that had fueled it, it fell apart, revealing the pressure. It was benign and I knew exactly where it came from. It came from God. I know how cheesy that sounds but hear me out. All metaphors and similes aside, I have been trying to know Christ better because my life is going no where, though not from lack of trying. It's been too hard for me due to my physical and mental limitations and Ive exhausted myself enough to finally take that advise that's been drilled into me since birth. I'm leaving it all up to Him.

(Now you're probably wondering why I didn't just lead with that paragraph instead of bringing up metaphors about rocks and wall paint, which might have felt like watching paint dry? The answer: because I need you to understand the pain I'm in. All that probably didn't sound painful to you but when you've become so apathetic, so average, and grey, and helpless, and stuck in the middle and one dimensional, Satan comes calling. And no matter how much you know that's not how life is supposed to be, there's nothing you are able to do about it, as hard as may you try, because you're stuck in a bear trap bleeding out with blood sucking devils slurping up your flesh through a black straw. Painful? yes.)

But saying "leaving it up to God" sounds a lot like "just sitting around and waiting" to me. Which is contradictory to every "primary" answer that Mormons have been taught- read your scriptures, say your prayers, go to church, etc. I do these things (way better than I ever did as a kid). Still stuck. What I've failed to do was something I never understood growing up- getting to know Christ and having a personal relationship with him. I have no idea if it will work, but I hope it will. I know it will be slow, but that pressure I've discovered is what will help. That pressure, that no longer feels like a heavy burden of guilt, is a gift from God. It's what is pushing me to better know Him. And knowing Him better is what will help me heal and change my life.

I just don't get it

A good friend of mine wrote this post

http://mindfullymormon.org/2015/04/02/did-the-church-lie-to-me/

I've been meaning to write something up about the subject of leaving the church because they "lied to me". I have had, of late, a few friends, aquintances or random people tell the world that the are leaving the church for this very reason. As sad as it is for me to lose a spiritual friend I don't get it. 

The reason I don't get it is because they refuse to share their side of the story with me so that I can understand (if you're going to tell the whole world you're leaving, then you'd better be ready to tell the reason behind it to every person who cares about you, it's the courteous thing to do, they care about you after all. If you don't want to tell the story behind it, then don't announce it to the whole world). 

One person said they wouldn't tell me because they didn't want me to fall away from the church. As much as I appreciate the thought, I'm not some soft, tender hearted little child. I'm actually a cold hearted, pessimistic, logically, skeptical, wildly imaginative, stubborn, lazy, granola hipster, I'll understand and I won't undermine your experiences even if I don't agree with it. I'm a fairly nice person to get along with and I know how a bad experience can taint the rest of your life and reliving it or encountering it again can leave a terrible bitter taste in your mouth. I don't want to know so I can ridicule or argue with you about how wrong you are, I want to know because you are my friend or because I find myself in the same life boat and wonder why I didn't jumped ship. 

In the mind of this Mormon

I read yesterday an article from Salon titled "But I'm a good Mormon wife" and a respond article on gentlyhewstone.com. The former article is about an ex Mormon wife sharing her story about how she and her husband ended up leaving the church. The latter article being a response on many misleading errors and uncited facts that the woman stated in her article.

The women, Maren, surprised me. Having previously heard the stories she states in her article, I was surprised how that could be the reason she left the church, but then I realized she lived in Utah. The church culture in Utah is very, very different to the church culture pretty much anywhere else in the world, especially in areas where there are small numbers. 

Having grown up in the Midwest I found growing up Mormon very different than many of my friends in Utah. The first big difference, your neighbors aren't Mormon. The ethnicity is much more divers (especially living in a college town) therefore the culture is much more divers. Tolerance of others beliefs is a skill you have to learn. Sharing the gospel is a lot harder, nobody cares what you're selling unless it aligns with what they want and it is possible to get slapped in the face if you get up in their space. The forbidden words or actions that only the "black sheep" of the family do in Utah happens all the time out here and we still friend them. There is no such thing as social suicide unless you're a sixteen year old girl still in high school. You aren't surprised when several single mothers show up at church dragging all their kids with them just like all the married mothers. When you wait in the pharmacy line at Walmart there will be old people, not sixteen year old girls all with bleach blond hair. If you burst out crying in front of everyone at church, you darn well do not need to worry about what everybody thinks of you're running mascara because no one will notice. You can walk into a bar to drink sodas without being judged. For every word that comes out of you, you will be challenged. Caffeine is not taboo. Neither is herbal tea. Nor are coffee shops.

The hiatus

So I took a loooong hiatus from writing on here, mainly because I really couldn't think of anything good to write. I was obviously not going to be a mother anytime soon and I really wasn't doing anything with my life so there were so stories there. I've literally spent the last nine months and counting on the couch watching reruns of whatever new show Netflix has on. A complete waste of my life but when you have no clue what to do with your life, defaulting to an easy accessible vice doesn't sound as bad as it did three or four years ago. 

Have I learned anything while sitting on the couch which will probably be the death of me? Yeah, I learned a ton. I learned how to cover my tracks if I was a serial killer, I learned how to build a bomb ten different ways if I were a spy, I learned that a special species of plum in Australia could save your good looks, I learned that it's way easier for me to blend my veggies in a smoothie and slurp them up with a straw, I learned what the devil's bible was, and I learned that Norwex has saved my life on several occasions. 

But I still am at that point where I have no clue where I'm going, and that's not changing anytime soon. Am I fine with it? Guilt aside, yes. I'm realizing more and more that despite the pressure from the outside world, I need this time. I need it to discover and shape who I am. I need it to become a better person, even if it means I need a week or two laying on the couch doing nothing or sitting on the couch multi-tasking or a rare day of cleaning the entire house or spending the day making a mess of the kitchen trying to perfect my homemade shampoo recipe.

I realize that I don't function like a normal person, but I don't think like a normal person either or desire to be a normal person. I'm disappointed by the path fate has led me on, but I'd rather take a break now while I still have support from loved ones than later when it may fall on me to pick up the slack. Will that day ever come? I hope it does. I will gladly leave my tv buddy for the opportunity for something new.

My thoughts: the definition of marriage and family

Ok I don't usually care to read up on debates about marriage and homosexuals and feminists and the threatened family so I'm not a huge expert on the subject, but, I'm a Mormon and believe in the importance of marriage and family, and I think this article-->  http://thefederalist.com/2014/04/09/bait-and-switch-how-same-sex-marriage-ends-marriage-and-family-autonomy/#.U5e6SZPjDN4.facebook

is completely ridiculous. So I have decided to write down my thoughts. I think people don't understand that the definition of marriage and family is different politically, socially, and religiously. 

Politically marriage IS A CONTRACT as is a civil union where certain legal rights are  lawfully binding. As a legal family unit there are certain rights given whether you're blood related or not. Attacking and narrowing the definition of family really isn't right when you consider people who have to build their family using different means than natural ones like adoption, egg/sperm donation, or surrogacy which is something Alex and I have to consider since we cannot conceive naturally. 

Socially, marriage and family are just words. Words that are defined differently in different social or cultural (including religion) circles. In the history of the US marriage has been defined as between a man and a woman through out most of the country. However a certain religious group (Mormons) expanded marriage to include one legal marriage between a man and a woman and several optional religious marriages between the same man and many other different women. All marriages were legit in the eyes of Mormon society even if only one was legal in the eyes of the state. Mormons may not practice polygamy now, but there are still religious social groups out there that practice this. Their definition of marriage isn't what we'd call traditional marriage.

On the east side of the world, historically it wasn't unheard of for a man to be LEGALLY married to several wives, if not hundreds in the case of royalty. And unlike US culture now many eastern cultures now and historically (historically with the US also) marriage and family for a man was not much more than property and vessels to pass on his seed. 

Back in time before even the concept of modern government and laws were born, unions between a man and a woman were different all over the world depending on the culture of your villiage. Some had religious significance and some were just commitment between the two to stay loyal to each other and offer protection of offspring from the dangers of the time. Even then sometimes the promise of protection wasn't a guaranteed thing especially in societies that sacrificed their own people.

In societies around the world and throughout time the word "family" means your genetic family, your adoptive family, your religious family, your community family, or your family made up of a bunch of orphaned children. Only in the eyes of the law (secular and religious) is the definition of "family" narrowed down. But most of us agree that there is someone not related to us legally or genetically that we consider family. Socially, family has a very large definition.

I can't vouch for the super extremists, but when it looks like the average LGBT supporters want to "abolish" marriage or the women's right activists want to "disassemble" the family, I think they're referring to the equality of the words. "Marriage" and "civil union" may mean the same thing as far as the law is concerned, but they may mean different things socially or religiously. Since the government really shouldn't be messing with either I don't see any harm in using one word, whether it be marriage, civil union, or contract to define the secular legal binding agreement that two individuals enter into. 

Besides most gays and lesbians when they want to marry WANT to be married legally so that they can have the legal benefits. The many that WANT a religious marriage are usually already attending a church that is homosexual friendly and will use that route to marry through. Those who aren't attending a church that supports homosexual marriage or active homosexuality need to decide what's more important to them, the church they go too (along with their beliefs) or a same sex relationship. I say "church" because their are many different denominations in certain religions that do support same sex relationships. But like individuals, religions and their denominations have their freedoms and taking them away is illegal. 

As far as religious institutions, they can define marriage and family however they want, they can choose to marry who they want, and they can choose if they want to marry legally and lawfully in the eyes of the government and/or in the eyes of their god without the government interfering. That's the great thing about our country is that one of the pillars it was built upon was the guarantee of religious freedom with out interference from the government. So there is a difference between legal marriage and religious marriage. The government can do whatever they want to their side as long as it doesn't mess with the freedom of religious establishments. And as long as a religious establishment isn't breaking any laws they can do whatever they want.

When people argue about the subject of marriage and family they need to be more specific by what definition of marriage and family they are referring to, politically, socially, or religiously. The likelihood of the government abolishing "marriage" by the definition of a law binding contract is pretty slim. It would just not make sense and a lot of government programs and private ones would buckle underneath the loss of such a deeply established system. The government will not be abolishing the religious definition of marriage either. It goes against our basic rights and would be very hard to pass. 

I don't honestly understand why, in a free society, women's rights activists are calling for abolishment of families when they are perfectly capable of not creating one or even actively preventing it (I'm not super informed about this). A woman has the freedom to choose whether she wants that or not. Because of my infertility situation (and my beliefs) I find it sad that there are people out there willing to abandon an opportunity for a family. 

But despite whether I think what people decide in their lives is right or wrong, it's not my place to force them. They have their freedoms and their agency, which in the Latter-Day Saint religion (Mormons) having the free agency to choose right from wrong is very important to God's plan. 

As For Me...

EDIT: I changed this last paragraph because I was not thinking due to lack of sleep and did not word it correctly the way I wanted it to be, so I have rewritten it. I'm sorry if my terribly wording upset anyone, that was not my intention.

I believe in marriage between a man and a woman. I believe that there is an eternal importance in the role of a married man and woman even if I can't figure out what it is. I know God has an eternal plan for families after this life even if He hasn't shared ALL the details yet. I know that through the gospel of Jesus Christ, being baptized, and partaking of special ordinances in the right place at the right time, families can be sealed together here on Earth and it will be binding in heaven for eternity. I believe anyone who wants these blessing can get them in this life or the next. I believe that no matter who you are or what faith you belong or don't belong to that there is an eternal deity no matter what you call him (God, Allah, Jehovah, etc), and there is a positive after life that thanks to Jesus and the Atonement (whether you believe in it or not) we all can enter into.

I know that every person on this planet has their struggles. I know some struggles we aren't proud of. But I know for a fact that God doesn't stop loving you because you did something in your life that you or someone else thinks is bad. I know that some circumstances make it extremely difficult to believe in God. But I believe that no matter what you believe or don't believe that you have the freedom and the right to believe it even if somebody else thinks you're wrong. That is the beauty of this country we live in.

A Reminder to Latterday Saints From the Articles of Faith

We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may.

We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.

We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul--We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.

The true story of life

Well, if you haven't heard our third round of IVF was a complete failure. I thought this would be it- I really hoped this would be the one, but it's not. Unfortunately this was our last round of IVF (insurance won't pay for more). So now everything is in God's hands. In all reality it's kind of relieving. I know that sounds terrible, but putting everything back into God's hands gives me a break. We've tried so hard the past five years to make this happen that to finally have it taken completely into the hands of someone we completely trust releases a huge burden that's been long hanging off our shoulders for a long time.

But, as relieving as it is, I'm still devastated. I watched a cheesy made for TV movie today and the line "anything is possible if you put your mind to it" was repeated several times. What an amazingly uplifting, inspiring line that has really changed the world through thousands of people who have had that mentally engraved into their mind. But for me I feel like that option is gone. No matter how much I put my mind to it, I couldn't make it possible. It feels like a door slammed in my face, or the end of the sidewalk at the edge of a big cliff hovering over nothingness, or like the fates cutting one thread of my destiny out and leaving a stubble that just ends. Ends. Ends. An end of an era. Strangely enough I haven't quite physically emotionally processed this yet. I'm sure the tears and sadness will come eventually. 

Despite there being an end to this story, there is a beginning to a new story. What that story is, I don't know. But I know how it starts. A few weeks back I read a blog which said the true purpose of us coming to this earth is not to have children and multiply and replenish the earth (although that's still a big part of it) but to be tried and tested and endure to the end and return to live with God again. Realizing and having that goal of having children pushed out of the way, I now see this purpose of life in a completely different light. Like a long distance runner who sees the finish line and charges full speed ahead, I see the end. I understand how to get there, and even though my sprint to the finish line is still several decades away, I can see it and I'm running towards it faster than I was before.

I still have no idea what I'm going to do with my life since the whole becoming a mother just became about a million levels harder to beat. But I now know that whatever trial that life throws at me I can beat. As unreassuring as my future sounds, I feel completely assured that I will overcome it all. 

After battling with infertility for so long Nephi's words have never sounded so clearer than they do now-

     "...I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them." (1 Nephi 3:7)

Despite the loss and disappointment we've faced, I feel refreshed and renewed, reborn. A new strength growing inside me. Maybe God is strengthening for a bigger storm ahead, or maybe he's readying me for the sprint home, either one I feel prepared to take it on.

A No Good Very Frustrating Bad Day: To Pee, Or Not To Pee

NOTE: This is a TMI post, so if you're uncomfortable with that, then you should just skip reading this post.

I had an interesting yet very frustrating day today.

This morning I had my base appointment for our next round of IVF. I get an inner ultrasound, fill out some paper work, and establish a schedule for the huge amount of baby making drugs I get to take. Oh, and I forgot that I had to get blood drawn. I had my ultrasound and my baseline. A nurse drew my blood and I thought I was done, but then the PA said I had to go downstairs to the lab and get MORE blood drawn. No big problem right? I get to the lab and check in and the receptionist hands me a pee cup. Great, I had to give a pee sample, an hour after I emptied my bladder for the inner ultrasound?! Not the end of the world, I chugged a bottle of water- a little over 3 cups- waited a few minutes, then went to the bathroom. Nothing happened... Nothing happened. Not a big deal, I chugged another bottle of water, wait a few more minutes, tried to go again. A tiny, tiny, tiny trickle of pee came out, I tried to catch it in the cup, but of course the cup was not designed with females in mind and I missed the cup. I flushed and washed my hands, danced around the bathroom a bit, trying to work the six cups or so of water through my system. Still no luck. I heard the lab tech open the sample cabinet door looking for my sample, boy was he disappointed to find none.

I then heard my name called by one of the phlebotomist. Ah crap. No, literally, crap. I went number two and was completely indisposed when they called my name. I flushed and washed again (and confused the lab tech on the other side of the little metal door again). I tried again, and again and again. 20 minutes later, I heard my name called again. No longer disposed I opened the bathroom door and called to the phlebotomist.

I went with her to get my blood drawn, hoping the extra time would encourage my bladder. Because I already had my blood drawn once already, she had to use my other arm. She poked me and pulled back on the syringe and ironically, nothing came out (of course I would get the new nurse who can't hit a vein on the first stab!) She wiggled the needle around and around (wiggling a needle around underneath your skin is by far the most painful part of getting blood drawn.) So after getting bruised, she decides to stab my already bandaged left arm. That was surprisingly uneventful for having two holes millimeters apart from each other, but then again, instead of putting the wrap on my arms she put the tape, and I HATE the tape.

After she finished she gave me an orange juice to help my bladder, I sat in the waiting room drinking more fluids, and wait and wait and wait. By this time it had been three hours since I last peed, I had had 8 cups of water and a cup of OJ and was still completely bone dry. My ride was almost here, so I decided to go try one more time. And all the events of my first stay in the bathroom happened again. My last attempt I positioned the cup into place but I accidentally knocked it into the toilet. At this point I was incredibly frustrated about this entire disaster, so I gave up. I picked the cup out of the toilet, ripped the label off of it, stuck it in the little brown bag and threw it in the garbage, washed my hands really, really well and walked out. I had had enough! I obviously wasn't going to pee any time soon!

I'm not sure why my bladder got stage fright, but it was incredibly frustrating and annoying, especially with everything else on top of it. This doctor's visit just ranked number one of my worst visits to the doctor's office, beating the time I got stabbed in five different places by three different nurses who couldn't get the catheter needle into any of my veins (I had quite a collection of kid band aids all over me that day!).