Merry Christmas

I Took 4 kids to the Zoo by Myself and Guess What? It Was One of the Best Days Ever!

Last Tuesday I took my boys to the Zoo.

All four of them, all by myself.

And then I drove them up a canyon. . .

. . .and took them to the outlets and Main Street in Park City.

Crazy? Probably. But you know what? It was the most enjoyable day I've had in a long time. I really didn't raise my voice, or get stark, raving, crazy mad. In fact I was happy and calm all day. The boys listened. The baby was so good. And we just had such a great day.

I miss days like these. I miss being home with them. I was so sad to see the day fade away and come to an end. A day where we stole some "free" time and just enjoyed life. We used to get more days like this. Now it's back to working and being crazy busy with school and life, and maybe trying to actually do my homework. Maybe one day I'll get more days like this again :)

Dinner? What's That?

Is that where you grab food from the freezer and warm it up in a skillet?

I seriously used to cook a lot more than I do now. But it has been so long, and I am so out of the habit. I have even forgotten about some of those recipes I used to cook, and enjoy, all the time. I miss cooking. I miss it being doable. It seems like such a hard task to accomplish these days.

Sometimes we get in good kicks where we prepare fresh salads, and try to eat fruit and veggies, but then all of the sudden there is a shift somewhere, and all that produce just ends up going bad. Lately I've been afraid to attempt to plan on cooking something that requires fresh produce because I'm certain plans will change, or something will come up, and the produce will go to waste.

Also, we always seem to be out and about doing something. When I was able to be at home more I would plan better, and pack lunches. But now we have to just get things done, and get them done now, so we run out the door and just take the loss of eating out.

We have been truly terrible at eating in, and saving money. And we really can't afford to eat out as much as we do. But with both of us working, and going to school, time, and energy, just seems to be far to fleeting to allow for home cooked meals. So I made us a schedule to try and inspire us to eat in. Instead of picking meals for each day of the month I picked a theme for each day of the week (Italian, Mexican, New Recipe, etc.).

This has helped us some, but I have to tell you, eating in leads to way more dishes. I mean before we had plates, cups, bowls and such from meals,-- even ones where we ate out-- but I'm just shocked at how cooking one simple meal can quadruple those dishes. And when you don't have a working dishwasher it becomes a real headache. I didn't need sleep anyway right? ;)

I have to confess, I feel no motivation to want to eat in whatsoever. There is the tiny fact that eating out just gets old. But with our lives so hectic and crazy I just miss the ease that comes from driving down to Little Ceasars for a $5 pizza. And trying to select healthy choices that can be quick and on the go, seems to be harder than one would think. I know, I know, there are always those things that say, "Healthy made easy" or "Eating healthy only takes a little more effort". But I'm afraid that little bit of extra effort can really become a huge mountain to climb when you can't even find time for homework. One future plan is to try and prepare food for the week on Sunday. We're still working on fitting that in.

I'd really like to get more of a handle on life. I'd like to feel accomplished at the end of the day instead of constantly stressed because I know I didn't get everything done that I needed to. I'm not even close to being on top of things. And I'm just taking it one thing at a time. As we slowly strive to get a handle on everything eventually we will work this all in. Until then my kids may be primarily made up of mac and cheese and microwave chicken nuggets. 

To My Future Daughter in Law's

OK, so I have wanted to write something like this for a while, but now I'm afraid that it might be the butt of controversy.  So please know that if any of this sounds one sided, or like I'm picking sides, I really don't mean it to. I love my boys and understand perfectly that every situation is different. These are just some perspectives I have from my experiences, but they aren't my only perspectives :).

To my future Daughter in Law's,

Let me start off by saying, I have no idea how to be a mother in law. I've thought and thought and thought about this subject. I know no matter what gender I happened to have there was no way to escape becoming  a mother in law. But the pressure is on when it comes to being a mother in law to only daughter in laws. My roll is an infamous one, full or cliche's and bad jokes. I wish I could somehow escape this. Maybe I can, but probably not. But my main concern isn't our relationship. Our relationship doesn't matter nearly as much as the relationship you'll have with my son-- sons. I have dedicated my life to trying to make sure I raise you the perfect husband-- husbands. It's inevitable that I fail. Nobody is perfect after all. But I just want you to know what things I will try to teach my sons in hopes that they will be good husbands to you.

First of all my experiences have led me to see that I want to teach my sons how to really love a woman. This means more than just repeatedly playing the Brian's Adams' song over and over again-- yes this is the second time I've mentioned Brian Adams on this blog, can you tell I'm a fan ;). You know how you watch those romantic movies. The one's where the man goes to all sorts of lengths to get a girls attention, or convince her she is loved. And then you hear, "That only happens in the movies." Is that true? I hope not. I hope I can teach my boys to see that even though they may not always understand the way a woman reacts that she is not just some irrational being who should be written off. Her thoughts and feelings should be listened too and validated. They should look at it as an opportunity to try and learn more about a woman and the important role that she will play in their lives.

I want to teach my boys to respect a woman even if she is not respecting herself. I hope to teach them that when a woman dresses a certain way she isn't necessarily broadcasting, "I want sex." At least in most cases. She is trying to say she wants a mate, that she wants to be loved, that she wants a meaningful relationship, that she wants to be treated like the girls in those romantic movies and a little that she wants to feel like she's hot. It wasn't until recently that I fully understood what dressing provocatively does to men. I know people tried to explain it to me, but it just didn't click. I had in my head that sex was love. But sex and love are two separate things that can eventually come together, one can be the expression of the other. But for most men sex can be separate from love. This can be true for women too, but for me, at least, they were one and the same. When a guy looked at me in a super hot dress with longing in his eyes I thought, "This is how I get his attention. This is how I show him that he wants to get to know me. Now he see's that he's interested in me as a person." It didn't really occur to me what messages men might really think I was sending. I want my boys to take a step back and look for all the message possibilities. I hope I can explain these differences well, and more importantly, I hope they grasp it.

Along with that my boys will be told to never, ever, ever, ever, hit a woman. OK. . .there may be some scenario someday where it could be justified-- this is why I also hope I can teach them good discernment. But if a woman is being aggressive I want them to just walk away.

I will tell my boys that if they feel the need to rebel, to go on a journey to experience life, to throw order out the window and go completely insane trying to find themselves that they do it on my time. I'd much rather have them rebel on me. I'd much rather have them go insane on me. I'd much rather deal with their crazy journeys of self awareness then to have them promise their spouse that they are a person who will live a certain life. That they are a person who will make certain vows, only to shatter them a couple years later because they never took the opportunity to learn and explore all the options there are in life so they can be certain this is the life they really want. So if they feel the need to rebel. I hope they rebel on me.

Another thing I have tried to tell myself as I raise my boys, "I'm raising your husband, not my son." Yes my boys are my sweet little babies. They will always be my children, but in reality the most important relationship they have is the relationship they have with you. I'm raising them to take care of you, not me. I firmly believe that God intended new families to begin this way. I believe that a young couple is to marry and then go off and learn how to be a couple. I think they should date and get to know each other. They should worry about their relationship and work on building it together. They need to just be themselves so they can become one and united. I am preparing myself to let my boys-- well I guess men-- go and start building their family. I want them to take care of you and the relationship you share. It should be of the utmost importance. They always say that in order to take care of others you need to first take care of yourself. I want my boys to treat their marriages like this. First you two take care of yourselves and your little family, and then you worry about others. When they get married I will let them go and if I raised them right they will come back. Only hopefully when they come back they will be one with you and they will present you to me, not me to you.

I love my boys. They are so very special to me, and I totally have their back if situations get tough. But this is a letter to my future daughter in laws, whomever you may be, and these are just some of the things I want you to know that I thought of while I was trying to find a way to survive the crazy day to day life of raising 4 boys 4 years old and under. I hope I got through somewhere.

I want you to know that I really do believe that the relationship my sons have with their wives is the MOST important one. And I am working hard to make sure I raise them with this mindset. I don't know if you and I will get along. I can't guarantee that I will be an awesome mother in law-- in fact I will probably be terrible. . .really, really terrible. I know it won't be easy. I know it won't be perfect. I know it will be hard to watch my sons grow up and become men. I know it will be hard to let them go and pass the torch onto another woman. But the thing is the torch was never mine. In my head it has always been yours, and my job is to prepare them for you. I hope I taught them well.

Sincerely,

Your Future Mother in Law

 P.S. I also hope that somewhere along the way they learned to be clean.

I Mean Really

I have been crazy mom this last week. I yelled at my kids non stop. I wasn't too happy with myself. My oldest are 4, and yet still some of the things that come out of their mouths just hits me. Sometimes they are so demanding and rude and I just look at them like, "Really?" The younger of the twins will constantly say stuff like, "Mom! You lost my Superman cape"
"I didn't loose it. It's your job to keep track of your toys."
"No, it's your job. You lost it Mom"

I mean really?

And now that it is summer they insist on going outside all the time. Not only do they leave the door open for the millionth time, they insist on dirtying every article of clothing they own. So not only does the cat get in, the dog that wonders get out and my electricity bill for the central air go up, I end up with a huge pile of laundry to wash and fold. And, while everyone is getting in and out of the irrigation ditch in our front yard and taking numerous baths, someone always ends up outside with no clothes on.

I mean really?

One Sunday the kids had all been playing outside and one of them pooped his pants. So I was washing him off, and told another child to get undressed so he could get in the tub. I guess what I, in fact, said was, "Go outside and play some more."
Me, tired of being disobeyed for the umpteenth time today, ran outside and told him to get inside and in the tub now or he couldn't go to Grandma's.
While all this is going on the sink, in the kitchen, was overflowing from the dishes I was "doing". Said child that disobeyed then proceeds to chew me out, "Mom! You made a mess. Clean it up now!"
Well that didn't go over big with me. I yelled at him, "I can make messes because I clean them up. Now go and get in the tub."
As you can imagine he was completely obedient and got right in tub just as I asked. He even said sorry. I know that last part gave it away. What actually happened is he yelled at me some more, I yelled at him some more, he slipped on the water and sat there and cried.

I mean really?

The twins started kickball this summer. They begged and begged and begged me to sign them up for baseball. The only thing in their age range was kickball. So we signed them up. They were all upset because they couldn't play that day. Well play day came and what happens, "Mom I'm too tired. I don't want to play kickball. I just want to go home." They then go out on the field, lay down on the grass, ignore their coach and throw tantrums of every kind. Ugh! Seriously it wears me out.

I mean really?

There is just so many things. I'm overwhelmed.Tired of not ever getting a moment to relax a little. I'm exhausted by the endless projects and chores around here. I love getting to go to school. I love my cleaning business. But in all honesty I love to take care of my home. In someways I get a slight thrill from keeping my house in order-- I guess its a "pat on the back, job well done" sort of thing. I want to just be home, but that is not an option. I want to take my kids to the splash pad, but I never have time. And when we do get to do something fun, the next day they'll be chewing me out again. It makes me so mad that I sacrifice time and money to take them somewhere, and they end up being rude and ignorant to me a day or two later. They're angels when we're out having fun, or when I buy them something. But I can't spend money on activities and toys all the time.

Sometimes I hope and pray my kids will turn out alright. I have become very lax in how I deal with things these days. I don't really punish a lot. I hardly use time out. I took spanking off the table because I, personally, need to draw the line there. Some days I feel like I'm totally failing but then I get a hint of something I may have done right.

The boys always get excited about helping me clean and fix things. They'll get rags to wipe up spills, tools to help hang curtains and carry bricks to help me with a project in the yard. They will always come and apologize, "Mom, I'm sorry I yelled."
Some days they are all such good brothers to each other. They take care of the baby. They help their brother with his seat belt. They take drinks to each other and share their treats. It is really sweet.
And even if kickball doesn't turn out the way it should, at least they see their Mom and Dad and Grandpa and Grandma come out to watch them play. I don't care if they walk away with an ounce of knowledge of the game as long as they feel the love and support of their family. I really think that's what is important.

I won't get this perfect, but everyday we're all learning from each other. And, I mean really, isn't that all you can ask for? :)

P.S. Great tip for feeding babies baby food: use a straw. At first I just stuck it in the jar and held it for my little guy, but then their Dad started poking holes in the lid, sticking the straw in and letting the baby hold it. The baby loves it and, as long as they can work a straw, it works great. This tip came from a really good friend that lives down the street. I totally swear by it :) 

Motherhood and Traveling With Boys

I used to be a pro at vacations. I mean it. A real pro. I had all the kinks figured out. I knew what not to forget. I had it down to an art. I love vacations. I love going places and exploring. It's just such a shame that life put such a dramatic halt on those things.

To tell you the truth I can't even remember my last trip. I know I wasn't pregnant with my fourth boy yet. But I really have no idea the last time I had the energy to pack up and take the kids out of town.

But lets face it. Energy wasn't the only things standing in my way. Our tires were a year and half past their expiration date before we finally replaced them last summer. The cars transmission started to slip every now and again, and since that car is almost fuels my life I didn't want to push it too far and loose it for good. The van we bought ended up with a terrible oil leak, so vehicles were out of the question.

There was no way my husband could take time off work. If anything we should have been inventing a way for there to be more time within the space time continuum for him to work and earn money. Every hour of overtime slowly got us a little closer to caught up. But we weren't nearly caught up enough to take time off and fall a little behind.

Since there was no money for time off. There was no money to travel as well. And so ended our little family travels for the time being.

Well finances have freed up a little with. . . um. . .*cough*. . . student loans. And my cleaning business is doing pretty well. And the best part of everything is the purchase of my 2008 Kia Sedona. A van with room for our family and more!

So we took a little trip about an hour out of town last weekend. This has been the closest thing to a vacation we've had in a long time. We stayed in a hotel. We swam in a pool. We visited Thomas at A Day Out With Thomas. And we ate a bunch of junk food. It was so fun!

Unfortunately my lapse in vacations has left me a little on the under prepared side. I forgot formula. I forgot milk for the cereal. I didn't really pack the food well at all. Getting into the hotel room was a mess from all the disorganization from packing. I didn't pack enough clothes for the kids. I brought all the soaps for the shower, but I forgot the loofa-- the most important part. We forgot some other things too. I can't even remember all the things we forgot.

Not to mention staying in a hotel room with kids is kind of rough. I seriously was getting cabin fever just from being in the room, with them, by myself, for 2 hours.

We've added a kid since our last vacation too. This complicated things a little. I didn't have bibs for him. He made a mess of all his clothes and ended up making the trip home in just a diaper.

The kids all threw huge fits at one point or another. Another lovely side effect of trips: No Naps. And I found myself a little irritated here and there.

But even with all the mess. Even with all the chaos. I really had a good time. The boys threw fits, but they were really good too. They shared with each other. They spoke nicely to everyone, and they used their manners at the store. I was so proud of them. One of the twins bought me flowers and carried them all over-- he was so proud of the flowers he bought for mom. After the boys went to sleep I soaked in the big jetted tub-- a must when it comes to hotel rooms :).

We really made some good memories. I enjoyed being able to get out and go out of town with the kids. It's hard work, but it creates great memories. And luckily we at least remembered the camera.

Learning What I'm Made Of

All day at work my minds is buzzing with ideas, my fingers are anxious to type, my heart is overflowing with superb descriptions of emotions and then I get home and suddenly. . .writers block.

I wanted to write about my thoughts on the blog post that has been going around about having babies in opposite world. I wanted to share thoughts about ideas I had about being true to my true self. I wanted to take a minute to talk about a book I just finished called, "Mother Had a Secret". In fact, I want to just sit down and write a 200 page novel. But I started summer block classes this week, been blessed with many cleaning appointments, have tried to start overdue household projects, bought stuff to reclaim my yard from the weeds and have just slowly sunk more and more behind. I have hardly even seen my kids this week, and I am completely exhausted. And yet still my fingers keep calling me back to the key board so, here I am.

Today I had some thoughts about my Grandfather. Many of you probably don't know much about him, but he was some kind of extraordinary. My family always knew my grandfather's extreme capabilities. He has always spent his time doing every physical activity possible, mostly involving things that had to do with being outdoors: cycling, hiking, water skiing, skiing, swimming, camping, back packing, etc. In his 70's he hiked The Narrows at Zions National Park with my parents. In his 80's he joined a group that was cycling all the way from Highland, UT to Cedar City, UT. They even wrote a newspaper article about it. Someone had finally discovered this incredible man that had been amazing our family for years. My Grandfather continued to impress many more people. He rode back with people half his age, and he would often out ride them. It was while riding his bike that he passed away. They named the hill he died on after him. Apparently it was his favorite place to ride.

As the anniversary of his death draws near I couldn't help but think about him. Not that I really need the excuse, I miss him everyday. But there was just something I wanted to write about him, and I thought I'd take a jab at writing here.

My Grandfather had a very strong personality. This strength could often make him a very hard person to be around. Sometimes this strength caused mistakes to be made. Growing up in his home was not easy. But as hard as my Grandpa was he was honest, loyal, would strive to be the best he could be and, I believe, he was a man of his word.

He often followed rules that some would call frivolous. Rules of etiquette and formality. These rules don't seem to mean much to some, but they mean a lot to me. When my grandfather followed these rules it was out of respect for people and their comfort. It used to bother me that I had to wait for him to seat me at dinner. But now I really appreciate that he followed those rules. To him it meant respect. And even if the respect annoyed me, being respected by someone leaves an impression. 

He was always honest. This honesty sometimes made it hard to be around him. But in the end it was the best feature he had. Because no matter how hard he was you always knew where you stood with him. You never had to doubt it. Honesty is hard, but it builds the strongest relationships.

My grandpa was loyal and a man of his word. I think he made a point about keeping promises. Even amongst the mistakes that were made I do believe me grandfather tried hard to keep all promises he made in life.

My grandfather was a lot of things. But mostly I remember the strength. The strength that sometimes made him hard to be around. And that same strength that now makes it hard to be without him.

I didn't realize what a support he was in my life until he died. I didn't know how to face this world without him. His strength gave me strength. I felt safer with him here. He was a true leader. I would have trusted his decisions and followed his commands to the the 'T'. I wouldn't doubt for a second that following him would be the smartest, safest and best thing to do. He gave me so much strength just by being and living. And he left right before the time when I needed him most.

After my grandpa died, after things changed for me, I started to have dreams. Dreams where my grandfather was still dead but we could communicate with him and see him. These dreams would seem so real that I would often wake up and have to deal with the grief of losing my Grandpa all over again. I still am not sure how this world can go on turning without him here.

But the story doesn't end there. My grandfather doesn't have to be gone. He was amazing, loyal, honest, strong, etc. and everything he was is also part of me. I know I'm healthier than I deserve because of his amazing genes. My body is incredibly resilient. I am hyper and obsessive like he was. I have made a point to become honest and make sure I always keep my word. But most importantly, somewhere in there, I know I have his strength. And knowing that who he was makes up part of me helps me to have faith in myself. How can I be scared? How can I worry about whether or not I have what it takes to get through school and raise my kids? I'm Lloyd Guthrie's granddaughter!

My youngest is named after my grandfather. I love naming my kids after people I admire. I feel like it gives them a sense of being. I hope one day my boys will grow up and have a desire to honor those I named them after.

Thank you grandpa for all you did for me. Sorry I didn't realize all that you were to me until it was too late. But thank you for helping me find my strength even now. Till we meet again :)

P.S. If anyone was is interested in following my other adventures in life check out my new blog.
It's supposed to be more just about events in my life not emotions, though they still may show their face :).

When a Facebook Status isn't Enough

". . .if you switch the perspective, and tell the children's story through their mothers, it changes everything. You see courage. Resilience. The strength of the human spirit."
 -Ash from "Secret Daughter" Writen by: Shilpi Somaya Gowda

The other day I posted this quote as my status, but I felt a need to expand on it a little more. So now Facebook status becomes blog post.

This quote is from the book "Secret Daughter". You may have heard me talk about it. I LOVE this book. It really inspired me in a lot of ways. This part of the book came to mind the other day, when I was trying to keep from having a break down, as my mind was on the verge of freaking out from all of life's stresses. This helped to keep me under control.

The part of the book this quote comes from is towards the end. A young girl, trying to write a report on the conditions in India, was trying to find a good angle for her article. When she looked at the horrible conditions that these children were born into she felt so heartbroken. But then she realized the enduring spirits of their mothers. Their mothers who gave and sacrificed what little they had to try and provide as close to a decent life as they could. They all had smiles on their faces as they endured these trials. The hope they had turned the depressing circumstance into one of strength.

These past few days I have just really struggled with all that's on my shoulders. I looked at my children and just felt so desperate. I'm frightened of not getting enough clients with my cleaning business. I'm terrified that I just won't make enough to pay the bills and to take care of them. How could I have done this? How could I have brought 4 lives into this world without knowing how I was going to support them? I can't believe the responsibility I have been entrusted with.The responsibility I put on myself.

I have taken a leap with this cleaning business in hopes that all will work out. And for the most part things are going well. But I still loose clients often, and it scares me. Especially when others don't come to take their place.

I am now going to school, and the scary thing is I cannot fail and I cannot quit. I'm it and I have to do this because there is no back up plan. It scares me to have such a big responsibility entrusted to me. I just don't trust myself to do it, and yet I have to.

Then one of my twins started having nightmares, and said there was a spider in his closet. I know it's only a minor thing, but to him it was huge. I felt so helpless to comfort him. My little boy is terrified and feels unsafe, and yet I feel powerless to save him. When bad things come he has no Batman or Superman to come and save him. He only has me, and I don't know if I'm strong enough for the job.

This week has left me feeling a little helpless. I have tried to have faith, and let my kids know that I believe they have a Heavenly Father that is there for all of us when we need him, but I still felt helpless. Then I remembered this quote.

As I read the words I remembered the strength that I have as a mother. That all these trials are here to help me tell the story of resilience and the strength of the human spirit. That's what make mothers amazing! When the world shouts at me that I am loosing the fight I shout back and say, "Losing isn't an option!" There's no giving up now. I'm all they have, and they are the only one's I will not let down.

Can I Tell You a Secret?

My list of confessions:

• 5. I used to belt out Broadway Show tunes, at the top of my lungs, in my parents living room. I'd even move furniture around to create "sets" and act out full shows. This was nothing compared to the encore act in the shower each night. 
• 4. At times I can throw tantrums like a 3 year old. Seriously, I act like a 3 year old. I know this because I've watched how my 3-- now 4-- year old's and I think, "Hey, that looks familiar."
• 3. Compliments are the only fish I like to catch, and I go fishing for them frequently.
• 2. I can be very vain about my looks. I often pretend that I don't think I belong among the super gorgeous. But truth be told, I think I'm pretty hot.
• 1. And my ultimate number one confession, that I have really struggled to share openly,-- which for me means I still share it, I'm just not as confident when I do-- is:

I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. 

One reason this confession is so hard is because I have never been formally diagnosed. I have talked to people, who have gone through the same thing as me, and we've discussed the recovery. We both have had extremely similar experiences and they say that they were diagnosed with PTSD. And, a year after the emotionally traumatic event in my life occurred, I started to wonder why I was sinking even deeper into my emotional pit. By all means I should have been getting better. Well I came across a definition of PTSD and, based on the fact that my counselor had told me that I had suffered emotional trauma, I decided that must be why I was relapsing so bad.

So I get a little sheepish when saying it, but, even if I have misdiagnosed myself, I think this still gives a pretty good idea of what I've been going through for the last year or so. And since I struggle to talk about it I decided to throw myself in, whole hog, and write a blog post about it.

So here is my story.

Right after the emotionally traumatic event I started to notice things would trigger certain emotional responses-- the terms "trigger" and "trauma" actually came from my counselor. These responses would be different then anything I had ever felt. It would take all of my mental focus just to concentrate on functioning baseline normal. But even so things slowly got better. I still had triggers everyday, but I was getting more on top of them. Then the year mark hit. I started falling fast. Things got worse, more debilitating and more frequent. I could never fully recover from one days occurrences to then be able to cope with what came the next day. And that's how I lived for a good while. Never really fully functioning, always just getting by. My mental capacity was working overtime just to trying to cope with what was triggering my emotional responses everyday. There was no room to cope with anything else. This led to other things causing milder forms of trauma. I kept thinking I could find the answers within. I had learned how to handle emotions and situations before. But I didn't realize this was bigger than me, and I would need help from the outside.

They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Well, that's not always true. What hadn't killed me was making me weaker. Everyday my strength would seep away, and I would slowly lose the will to fight my emotional demons. I would try to envision myself as a fallen hero. One who seemed to have just taken the last hard punch they could possibly take. They fall to the ground and all appears to be lost. Then slowly, a strength ignites inside and a force beckons them to stand up. With every ounce of strength in their muscles they work to gain back their ground and continue the fight once more. But then came the question, "What is it that I am fighting for?" I didn't know. And until I knew, my hero could never fully rise. 

So what happens when something triggers one of these responses. I've worked really hard on fully assessing my situations.

One thing that happens is I get cold, so I'm often seen with a sweater in hand. Being cold and unable to cope do not go hand in hand. In fact, when it was really bad, I would take a hot shower, and spend several hours under blankets, just to get to a place where I could start thinking/talking about what had happened.

I will often get really fidgety. I will move around in my chair a lot just trying to find some position that is comfortable.

I will also start taking deep breaths. Sometimes I won't even notice until my lungs get really tired and I realize I had to take a series of deep breaths just to get to the car, or walk down the hall.

I can also get extremely over stimulated. I've pleaded with my 4 year old to "just please go downstairs" because I was so over stimulated his obstinate attitude left me feeling like someone was rubbing sandpaper up and down my skin.

I will usually phase out. My social skills will go completely out the window. I'll get a sort of zoned, or dazed, look on my face. I'm aware enough to try and bring myself down to a fairly normal level, but it's one of those things that takes a lot of mental strength to do. Usually when I phase out it's because I'm trying to find a place where my stimuli can take a breather. I try to sink into a world where I can possibly cope with what just happened, but in order to do so I have to try and become numb to all my surroundings. When this happens what I really need is someone to talk me out of it. I won't take the strength to start a conversation-- that requires too much of my concentration. But if someone would talk to me and start asking questions it would trigger the good response, I've tried to create, where I try to answer any and all questions, to the fullest extent and as honest as possible.

Another major marker of these episodes is the desire to cry. Back when I struggled everyday, whenever I left the house I would just want to break down and cry. I would go to the grocery store and I would pep talk my way through each isle, "One foot in front of the other. Just keep breathing. We can do this. You don't need to fall down in cry." The sad thing is as I did this I would look at people with such desperation. I kept hoping someone would be able to somehow sense that there was a war going on inside me. Sometimes I would wish I could just collapse, so that everyone would rush to my aide. Maybe then I could get the help I was so desperately seeking.

I felt so trapped by my situation. Because of what had happened to cause this trauma I was advised by many to keep it to myself. I understood why they said this. They all had a point. But having to keep silent when I was up against this battle had become intolerable. So intolerable I was almost ready to run up to strangers in grocery stores and ask if they would please help me. It hurt to keep silent. In fact it was torture.

So what now?

I lacked the skills I needed to get through this and I couldn't come out of it enough to gain those skills. Everything was so suffocating. I was fighting a battle where the battle had started to fight me. The light at the end of the tunnel diminished. I tried to stick to my plans. I tried to stay on track with life. I just kept going thinking one day, I would get through it all, the hard parts would be over and I would come out of it thinking, "Whew! That was hard, but it's over and I'm better for it." Well then things got even worse. I started school and the stress just started to crush me. I felt stupid and inept. I couldn't get a handle my class. I couldn't see why I was going through all of this. I couldn't see a future where all of this work felt worth it. I tried looking at online groups of people who had gone through similar things. But all those proved to just be more triggers. I couldn't bring myself to read their stories. It hurt too bad! I tried to stick with the church, but I was too far gone for those things to touch and inspire me. I was lost. I didn't know how to go back. My emotional trauma had given me trust issues. How could I put my trust into something that required faith, and faith alone? Some will complain about friends who are negative all the time, but the truth is sometimes positivity just hurts. I had reached that point.

Well, it took some drastic changes, and hard decisions, but I finally found my hope. Suddenly I could see a future worth working towards, worth fighting for. I learned how to look for help outside of me. I learned to have faith again and I could see God's hand in my life. I honestly love my life! I love my kids! I am just awestruck with how content and happy I feel right now. I haven't felt this way for almost 3 years. I love being a mom, and I love that I love it again. And most importantly, I'm learning to love me. I love who I was before marriage, I love the incredibly awesome person I am now. I'm so excited for what my future holds, and I can't wait to show the world what awesome things I'm made of. It will take a lot of hard work, but I think I have found a good path. And I think I've learned how to stay on it.

Now sometimes I do relapse. I have had two episodes since then. One took almost a full week to recover from. But its OK because, in reality, I'm grateful for these moments. They are so hard to get through, but they are reminders that what I went through was real. I didn't just make it up in my head. The things I felt, the way I felt, was all real. And it really impacted me. 

So there you go. The "incredibly open me" has opened up some more. Like I said, I don't officially know if they would classify what I have as PTSD, but at least know that what I went through, and am still going through, is real :).

Hello My Name is Tricia. . .

. . .and I'm a facebook junkie.

OK, I have a lot of addictions, or just habits of over usage. Like, for instance, I can's stop using emoticons-- I'm just so nervous about written word getting misinterpreted and emoticons help. . .sometimes. I'm also way abusive of the words "awesome" and "amazing"-- I really need to expand my vocabulary. And lets not even mention the word "seriously"-- or lets do because I'm sure it will show it's face multiple times in this post alone. 

However this post is about my facebook addiction.

Seriously-- told you so--It's so true. Why can't I leave that little blue squared app on my phone alone? I have so much on my plate right now, and yet some days I'm checking my page every 30 minutes. When my notification numbers start to drop well then I think of something else I can post. Yeah, it's kind of sad.

So why do I do it? I'm not altogether sure. One would think it was boredom, but what do I have to be bored of? I have school. I'm starting my own cleaning business. I'm making serious life changes. I have four kids under the age of four and a household to take care of.  

Do I hunger for attention? Now, lets be honest. Of course I want attention! Who doesn't like getting attention? And yes getting attention is part of my facebook addiction, but it doesn't quite hit it on the nose.

Could it be my kids are just too darn cute? My kids do have habits of saying, and doing, particularly cute things. And while I'm a fan of showing off my cute kids, I also just want to get it written down so I can remember. So yes, that plays into my addiction as well.

But the real reason for my total a complete immersion into the facebook world is-- drum roll please-- social interaction. I just love talking to people. I love getting their opinions on my thoughts. I just love having a little access to a somewhat adult world, where adult conversations have the potential of taking place. I'm just such a talker. I'm always wanting to bounce ideas and thoughts off of people. I don't think all the girls nights in all the world could satisfy my need for talking. Which is why facebook is a terrible thing in my life. I literally want to talk about everything. Every action I do I think, "Would this make a good status update?" Like I said, "It's kind of sad."

Now, I'm a firm believer that, in most cases, you can find good and bad in all things. So I won't say facebook is all bad when it comes to my life. I love staying in touch with people I otherwise wouldn't be able too. I love seeing them experience all the joys, and big events life has to offer. I love how well I can advertise for my business-- I could always use more followers :) just look up The Sassy Cleaning Lassy. And really I love that I can have some sort of an outlet. I love that when I'm having a rough time, or a bad day, I can write a little note on facebook and next thing I know two or three friends are relating to my experience-- and maybe once every new moon someone says something that just makes me mad :). When I can find people who can relate I feel less alone. I feel like I'm not just a hopeless case or a lost cause. That what I'm experiencing is normal, and I can pick up the pieces from here.

But meanwhile, while I'm trying to get attention, fishing for compliments or just simply looking for some adult conversation, I'm probably driving all my friends crazy with my multiple posts about nothing. So I apologize. I try to limit myself to one status update a day. I'm also trying to restrict myself to only checking my page after I am done with my reading for my class. I've also been making an extra effort to actually get all the things done in a day that I need to. Which doesn't always work because I'm usually left with no time to even eat when this happens.

So I'll keep trying to conquer my little addiction, but while I'm on the road to recovery please bear with me. :) 

My Feet Aren't Cold Because of the Snow

I promised myself that my next post on this blog would be positive. I figured it was time for something positive to come along, and I thought I shouldn't write again until I had come across a way to have a positive outlook on things. Unfortunately positivity has not entered my life.

OK, OK, that's not completely true. I manage to laugh and smile, and so there obviously is some positive in my life. But I've stumbled into a bit of a pit. I'm not good at living in the ideal. I like to live in the real world, where there's real emotions, real problems, real heartache and real people getting through it everyday. But upon going to church, and returning to relief society for the first time since the event that changed my life, I find that any mention of ideal, even when mixed with what's real, stabs at me like a short, shallow dagger. I almost couldn't make it through the whole meeting. I just sat there, looking down, tying a piece of string in knots over and over again, all the while tears welling in my eyes.

It's just too hard to take. It's just too hard to listen to testimonies, and stories about how prayer and scriptures are the answers to everything. How God never forgets us. How He is waiting to pour blessings upon us if we just ask. How these are all supposed to be inspirational, and help me to believe and have hope, but they just leave me feeling lonely, sad and scared.

I've talked with my mom about it. She said she knows how I feel. She told me the story about how a lesson on a talk called, "Forget Me Not" by Dieter F. Uchtdorf made her feel the same way. She said, "It just made me cry because you know all these things. You do all these things. You endure to the end. But life is still hard. But you keep enduring, and you keep trying to do those things you know are right. But still life is just so hard, and it never gets easy."

My feelings towards it still feel strange and confusing. I feel like it's hard to put it into words but I'll try. I feel like I believe the church is true. I believe God exists. I cannot deny that. But if I cannot deny that than I have to admit that all those ideal things they say in relief society are true. And if I feel like they aren't a comfort, or aren't answers to my problems, than the problem isn't that it's not true, or that God doesn't exist, the problem is me. And I just don't know what to do to fix the problem that is in me. And then I guess it turns into a vicious cycle because the answers that should be there to help fix me don't feel like the answers I need. Make sense? It's pretty confusing even for me, which is why it's hard to live.

Another example is this:
My last baby was a boy. I don't know why I was sent another boy. I really feel like God answered my prayers, and gave me comfort when it came to me having more kids, by letting me know I had been promised daughters. People mention daughter-in-laws. People mention the fact that it might be in a different life. Perhaps these are my answers, but I really felt He was telling me that I would have a girl if I had more kids. Well I got sent a boy. Not only did I have to once again deal with the trial of having a boy, but it had to be during the most awful, horrible, heartbreaking time of my life. I just threw up my hands and said, "I'm done! If there's some lesson I haven't learned, if there's something I'm not doing right, if this is for my own good, and if I'm supposed to figure out why, well I'm not going to because I'm done. I've obviously missed the point. And I'm tired of trying to figure out why these things happen."
Before I would search and search for a meaning. I would come up with an answer that gave me peace and understanding. But now, I just can't do that anymore. I'm sick of trying to give meaning to my trials-- like I've said before they have hurt me so much that, even if I did learn from them, it's hard to admit they happened for a reason, all while giving it a positive spin. I guess I'm still not explaining it very well. I guess some tragedies, whether the small ones in my life or the huge one's that exist in the world, are just so unnecessary that you can't give them a "reason" for happening because, in some ways, giving them a reason is like giving an excuse. And there just can't be an excuse for making someone feel that kind of pain.

It probably doesn't make much sense. I really don't know if I understand it. All I know is that it's hard to hear, hard to take and sometimes hard to understand. The worst part is that I know there is a fear of allowing myself to fully live and believe all of those lessons and ideal things because I don't know if my heart can take trusting in those so much, and yet it all ending in yet another hardship or trail. I don't know if my faith in the church, or in God, would survive. I guess that's all part of my trust issues as of now. All of it is tied into letting myself be open and vulnerable with faith and love, and watching reality eat that vulnerability alive. I'm sure it's ultimately a test in faith. Even when you feel so alone, like even God has left you, you still need to have faith and keep enduring.

The hardest thing about feeling this way is that because of it I've had a hard time being content and at peace, with my life, in a long time. The last time I remember being totally content and at peace was right before our last baby was born. I had a dream that the baby was a girl. I remember, while in that dream, I was just so content, happy and at peace, and life, once again, made sense.  I thought maybe that feeling would come once my baby arrived, but it never really has.

It's been a year since said ". . .event that changed my life" happened, and I've really struggled, still, to live with it in my life. I read a cute little Romantic story for book club. Reading this story, that wasn't weighted down with reality or tragedies, felt just as painful to read as books that had such tragedies in them. I know life never turns out like a cute romantic comedy. But even so I have felt like love like that can exist. And when I looked at my own love story. . .well. . .those things seem so far from what I have that it's hard to feel like I can even skim over the bumps and say I really feel like I have that "something" special. Part of me wanted a love story like that. Once again, I realize that in reality these love stories are not real, and that nobody's life is going to end up like a perfect little fairytale,-- which I guess is another reason I stick so much to what is real--but I still feel like the feelings are real. And when it comes to love, I've always believed, that even in reality, I can have something that feels as wonderful as a fairytale. I've always been kind of a hopeless romantic. I guess I still wanted a chance to find a man that could love me like that. I was sad that my youth, and beauty, had been used up on this "story" of mine. And, most of all, I  just wanted  a chance to recreate some of those memories that are supposed to be so sweet in life: weddings, anniversaries, childbirth, etc. My memories are so tainted, and sometimes bitter. I wanted to at least be able to look back with my husband at a cute little love story that was all our own without being filled with sadness.

Part of me was angry that I had stayed. Part of me wished that I had left a year ago because here we are a year later and I'm still heartbroken and. . .well. . .just broken. I haven't found a way to look to the future with hope, or to look to the past with understanding. I started to seriously consider that maybe I should just leave now. Sometimes the thought of leaving, and starting over, brings me so much peace and I feel like maybe then I could fully heal. But than I realize that these problems are my problems, and I'll take them with me no matter where I go, or who I leave.

But on the other hand I wondered if it was fair to stay. I mean, my  husband deserved to be loved fully too. What if I was no longer capable of loving him that way? It just didn't seem fair.

For a few days I thought about leaving. I racked my brain for plans that would work. I could move out. I could move in with my parents. I could stay and he could move out, and I could get a roommate. It was one of the  most heartbreaking things I had to think about. Could I really go, and leave all our memories behind? But hadn't those memories already been given away? Leaving just felt so hard. But so does staying. Just because something is right doesn't mean that it's easy. But than which "hard" is the "right" thing to do, leaving or staying? I've always been taught that there are certain guidelines to right. One of them is that, despite certain circumstances, it is always right to try and save your marriage. But what if staying was just so trying on you that you could no longer cope with everyday life like you needed to?

I struggled for a couple days. I distanced myself from my husband. It was hard. I wanted so badly to just let him comfort and take care of me. No matter what has happened he is still my best friend, the man I love, the man I started my life with. And going through this hardship felt impossible to do without him there. I tried to resist just coming home and being comforted by him. Was I just being stubborn, or was this part of the "hard" I'd have to get through? Even though being comforted was what I wanted, and felt so right, I didn't know if I just wanted to do it because it was what was normal and easy. And I was worried that the endless cycle would continue: I go to work, fight back tears all day because of reminders, trying to fight the urge to just want to leave because I don't want what happened to be in my marriage anymore, come home, be comforted, everything feels OK and good, I can stay, until. . . .I go to work. . .

Truth is when it's just me and my husband everything is fine. It's having to exist in a world outside our home that is hard. It's having to exist at church, work, school or even just in the supermarket.

Later that night as I lie in bed crying over the thought of loosing all our memories, traditions, stories, everything we had started as a family I suddenly could see so clearly. Why was I letting my selfish desires threaten my marriage? It could just be me and my husband against the world. Suddenly all the things I wanted seemed so less important when compared to the marriage and friendship I had built with this man. And finally I let it all go. I hugged my husband and just cried, and took comfort in that.

A lot of what we were was given away, over a year ago, when mistakes were made. Even though we stay together what we were is such a hard and painful memory, it really feels like its already lost. So I don't know if a divorce is necessarily the beginning of loosing all that we are. At times I wish I had left him when I was still angry. When I could just be mad at him. But now he's made so many changes, and come so far, that I really don't hate him. Its just that no matter how good our relationship is, what happened will always be a part of it. And I don't know if I can live with it. When I talk with my husband, apologetically, about how I don't know if I can stay he says, in a sad and longing tone, "I knew it would be hard, and I didn't know if you could ever forgive me for it." I don't really feel like it's a lack of being able to forgive. I think I've forgiven him. I think it's more about being able to just move on. I worry, even now, that things will still be hard. That the cycle will still continue.I feel so uncertain, and I hate passing on that uncertainty to my husband and kids. I just keep hoping there will come a day, that I hear a message said in just the right way, or I can see things in just the right light, and because of it I can finally feel peaceful and content once again. 

Since I wanted some positivity here I'll include a few tidbits. I've started school, which I'm proud of myself for doing. I achieved last years New Years Resolution. One of my twins, who loves to dance, is taking his first dance class and it starts tomorrow. I'm so excited he's at an age where I can sign him up for these things. Even though I can't be there because I have class, I look forward to seeing the pictures and hearing the stories. My boys have learned so much from the little amount of time I have spent teaching them. It's just so exciting to watch them retain so much information. My little baby has started sitting up on his own-- it's for like 5 seconds at a time, but I'm still impressed. And the most exciting thing is that I get to spend some nice days off with my family-- thanks to switching to part time!

Les Miserables

Last night, thanks to my husband, I actually got a date. Not only did I get a date, but I got to see a movie in the actual theater. And not only did I get to see a movie, but I got to see a movie based on my all time favorite musical, Les Miserables. As soon as the movie began I was overcome with emotion. Within the first few bars of music, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to handle the movie emotionally. Before the first scene ended I knew that my feelings on the film could not be expressed in a mere facebook status update. So I'm writing them here.

Were there things I didn't like about this film?

Yes. Yes, there were. At times I felt like it was too fast paced. I was not impressed with Russel Crowe's performance. I don't think he quite pinned down the tortured character of Javert. I wasn't a huge fan of the Thenardiers. In the musical they are the comic relief, but in the movie it felt like they didn't know how to stay true to the characters while staying true to the other themes of the story. It was kind of awkward at times. I also didn't like that they sort of down played one of my favorite characters, Eponine. I connected so much with her in the musical, and I hardly felt like I knew her in the movie. I was also not a huge fan of the camera work. The musical is so big and grand, and you have so much more room to be big and grand on screen than on stage. Yet with all the close up shots, and not really getting a sense of the scenery or surroundings, I sort of felt like the musical had a much bigger and grander scheme. I also was torn at times between the acting and the singing. Did I want the good acting, or good singing? Sometimes I got both? Sometimes the acting was so good the singing didn't matter. And sometimes I just really wanted to hear my favorite songs sung by amazing singers.

Does this mean I did not like the film?

Hardly. I loved it? I could have taken all the things that bugged me about this film and walked away totally disappointed. But truthfully it had such an impact on me that, no matter what flaws there were, I couldn't have walked away disliking this film. Plus it's Les Miserables. This is my favorite book, story and musical. How could I not enjoy it?

So here is my Les Miserables experience.

This was the first musical I ever saw. I love, love, love this musical. I have sung every part. I have played the Original Cast album while acting out the roles in my parents living room. I have loved and lived this musical to the fullest extent. I feel like I've truly explored every emotional aspect and theme it has. And yet, when that movie began, I was caught off guard.

The minute the movie started, and I heard those oh so familiar notes, I knew this experience was going to be unlike any other Les Miserables experience I have had. I was watching a story that was oh so familiar to me. I was listening to songs I knew by heart, and yet I was paralyzed by emotion. I couldn't allow myself to absorb it as I had before. It was different. It struck me down. It hit me in a place I had never expected. All that Les Miserables had ever been to me was now completely different because now. . .it was REAL. I didn't think I would survive. I seriously thought I may have to walk out of this movie. Not because I didn't like it, but because it was too close to home. The story switched to Fantine's I thought I was done for. Never have I felt this character's pain as I did last night. Honestly a part of me lived, and died, with her. Even though I knew my story was no where near as tragic there was still something that was way too familiar and way too personal about Fantine's experiences. I was heart broken. She wasn't just a character going through this pain. She was a person, a friend, someone who's pain I would have prevented if only I could. In some ways she was me. And I could hardly stand to watch her have to give up and sacrifice all that she had to.

The stories of those "dropped. . .at the bottom of the heap" have become too real for me. There's a part of me that has experienced a part of that pain. And it's a part of me that isn't strong enough to face that pain again. In fact watching the characters face it, and have to face it again, felt almost suffocating. How could they do it? How could they survive? How could they still believe in God, love and hope? How could they keep on living and not just lay down and die? I believe the need to answer these questions is the reason stories like Les Miserables come about. It's the reason I have always loved this story. And it's the reason that I now love this story even more. It's themes of how horrible and wretched life can be had become more real to me, and now it's themes of salvation and redemption had become all the more necessary in my life.

Even those convicts chained with Val Jean in the first scene still had faith enough to pray to God. Val Jean sang, "My soul belongs to God I know, I made that bargain long ago. He gave me hope when hope was gone. He gave me strength to carry on."And I realized in this story, created ultimately by Victor Hugo, there was a God. And these people, no matter how miserable, never lost their faith in that. And they never stopped believing that no matter how little the good they did seemed to do it didn't change the fact that doing good was the right thing to do.And it was better to do good than do nothing at all.

I believe there will come a time when my faith and hope can make me as strong as the characters in this story. I feel so weak right now. I struggle so much to just carry on with everyday life. But I wake up every morning, and as long as I keep waking up I need to keep trying to figure out how to improve, how to do good and how to do what's right.

Les Miserables is one of my favorite stories. It is also my favorite musical and the themes and meanings in this story have already touched me so much I couldn't walk away not loving this film. But now seeing it through new eyes, and new insight, and knowing that this story now holds so much more personal meaning to me, I truly have to say my love for Les Miserables has been rediscovered and relived.