Primary Program

Hannalyn’s last primary program was last year which meant that today, Daniel and I were involved but not her. Instead, H got to go to her cousin’s program and loved it. This was Daniel’s first one (leading the music) and he did great. I thought it was a really good program all around. It was so weird to not have Hannalyn there, but I was also glad she got to be with family and not sitting alone or trying to find a spot for her by me.

Kids growing up - time generally - is such a weird thing. Moments I wish I could grab on to and cherish slip away. I am grateful for primary and how it teaches and prioritizes children. I love being in that room and doing music. It’s my favorite calling and spot to be. I only dread moving if I don’t get to be back in primary in a new town. ;) It’s really the best.

A month gone

October has been hard. I am so glad that it’s almost over, and yet I am dismayed at how quickly time continues to move.

After a therapy appointment at which I expressed how good I was doing at the beginning of the month, things began to spiral down into a dark depression. Not the worst I’ve ever been in, but bad enough, and hard to shake. The little things that I usually can brush off have been sticky and painful. This frustration with myself and inability to focus on good things has remained all month in spite of blessings I’ve seen and been able to acknowledge.

Conference was - and continues to be - a ray of light.

My Hannalyn is always my greatest comfort, even on days we get full-blown teenager attitude.

Walking around and being in the temple brings so much relief, I’ve been in tears the last times I’ve gone.

At my most recent therapy appointment as I expressed my disappointment that “the other shoe dropped” so shortly after feeling good, I was able to get validation about how I was feeling and the anger I felt.

I was also reminded that grief is not linear, and it’s ok to be mourning and to be going through grief stages I thought I’d passed.

Meanwhile I continue going through the motions and trying to not let anyone get hurt by my emotions. Feeling lonely and uncertain in what is coming and what I am supposed to be doing. I haven’t felt uncertain about my future in…years. Feeing this way as a 35 year old woman is something I never could have imagined.

I feel confident that God is with me, and that’s how I’m getting through the days.

Maybe once Halloween is past and we can focus on family, I will be able to find some peace.

President Nelson

I have nothing eloquent to say about the passing of President Russell M Nelson. The words I want to say have been and will be said by others and in much better ways. I didn’t know him personally, I admired and respected him as many did, and I mourn the loss of his leadership which came from such an obvious place of love.

Though I feel inadequate in expressing any sort of feeling about someone I perceived to be a great man, I wanted to put down my thoughts and add my voice to those that praise God and goodness.

I have loved having President Nelson as prophet of our church. His words were descriptive, his passion contagious, and his face so kind. I felt his love and the love of our Savior in each message that He shared. I admired his strength of personality and body and mind. I was grateful for his consideration in how he chose to deliver messages and his unshakeable testimony of and faith in Jesus Christ. I never doubted that he knew my Savior and I was so amazed by him for that. I pray that I can live with that sort of unapologetic faith.

President Nelson will be very missed. His example and words will not be soon forgotten. I am so grateful to know that life continues and that Christ has a place for him- and for me- in His holy halls.

May we all be better peacemakers and lovers of the Savior.

Hard & Soft

I got to thinking today about the words we use and the tone we use them in.

Cruel and hurtful words are like barbs. Pointed and ridged, they stick to you with a painful tenacity. They are hard to remove and they pull at you the more you try.

Kind and caring words are like the breeze. They whisper past, sometimes making an impact in ruffled hair or clothes, but usually just floating on by. No long-lasting marks except in memory.

This seems so backwards, and so sad. It makes me sad, anyway. I got a compliment today and tried to bask in and enjoy it but found the words and the feelings drifting away while the hurtful words from a previous encounter started to itch and to tug at my heart.

How do you make kind words stay? Ones that are true and build you up? Erecting a wall deflects barbs, but it also stops the breeze.

I’d really like to know.

I’m fine

Dark. Alone. Cold. Hunched. Stiff. Tight. Curled. Aching. Scared. Worried. Clenched. Hard. Tired. 

Knowing no one would miss you if you were gone. No one would call you. No one would invite you. No one would hug you. No one would want you. 

Lost.

Do you have a friend? Someone you can call anytime? Laugh with and cry with? Share hopes and fears with? Who gives you compassion and understanding, inspires and challenges you to be better? Always withholds judgment. Trusts you. Wants to share their life and your life with you?

You are lucky.

Depression hits hard, man. It is so crappy feeling this way. Trying so hard to do and be better, feeling ignored and dismissed.

And alone.

I know that Jesus is there. I know I will be ok. Light will shine again and I will find peace. I will. He will. I know I am not forsaken, so honestly I’m doing better than probably many others. 

It’s just so darn hard. And lonely. And dark. Struggling makes you feel weak. Like a disappointment, failure, fraud. And every single word or gesture, every acknowledgement or lack thereof, every whisper or shout and look from someone’s eyes spells judgment. Misery. Disdain. Dismissal.

Even if it’s not meant to.

So what do you do? When your own brain fights against you? Where do you turn? When no one knows, no one cares? 

Jesus, of course. Yes, I know. 

I do. I have. I will.

And…eventually…this too shall pass.

I have to believe that.

It’s all I have.