A thought on mortality

cir·cum·stance
ˈsərkəmˌstans,ˈsərkəmstəns

noun: a fact or condition connected with or relevant to an event or action.

mor·tal
ˈmôrdl/

noun: a human being subject to death, often contrasted with a divine being.

"Dang mortality" is what I say when I am frustrated with unfortunate things that happen in life. ie: waking up tired or late, running late everywhere, getting a bruise, falling, getting sick. All of these frustrating things are "dang mortality" circumstances.

Elder Deter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, "when we are grateful to God in our circumstances, we can experience gentle peace in the midst of tribulation. In grief, we can still lift up our hearts in praise. In pain, we can glory in Christ’s Atonement. In the cold of bitter sorrow, we can experience the closeness and warmth of heaven’s embrace."

My goal is to embrace those mortal circumstances that we have been given the opportunity to experience thanks to our Savior Jesus Christ. 

Welcome Spring!

I love Spring!
I love that it is a symbol of birth. I love the songbirds, the aroma of the blossom trees, and seeing people outside!

I love that the grass is starting to turn green and the fact that I get to wake up to the morning sunshine streaming through our bedroom window. I also love the soft sound of windchimes outside (they remind me of spring, even though you can have windchimes all year long).

I also get this urge to grow things when this season comes around. I get it from my mom, the gardening queen. I am going to share my succulent house garden that I planted soon!

Our Winter has been mild, but I am still wishing you a Happy First Day of Spring!

Blessings to you and your loved ones.

It has felt like Spring for a while now.

Wednesday I decided to take a break from homework, found a blossoming tree on campus and fell asleep on the cement below it. 

I have no shame in the awkwardness of this situation. It was absolutely wonderful.

When songbirds sing.

My favorite season is songbird season. 

I also like when it is warm, but songbirds are usually singing then so it is basically the same.

There needs to be an explanation for the last few posts. If I was writing a book you could consider this the Preface. And it starts with sin.

Sin. /sin/ noun. an immoral act considered to be a transgression against divine law. 

I am a Mormon, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I believe that God is a loving Heavenly Father who gave us bodies so that we could experience life on earth and make righteous choices so that we may return to live with Him again. In order to do that though we have to be clean. We are fallen, mortal beings who sin every day, but with the sacrifice of our Savior we can receive forgiveness and be cleansed IF we repent.

"Repentance is more than simply acknowledging wrongdoings. 

It is a change of mind and heart.
It includes turning away from sin and turning to God for forgiveness.
It is motivated by love for God and the sincere desire to obey His commandments."

link

God loves His children. That includes me. I had this epiphany one afternoon:

I am mocking God when I mock, hate, mistreat, criticize my body. 

A gift that was so lovingly given to me.

Since being diagnosed with depression this last summer I have looked for patterns or triggers in my behavior that send me into an episode. I recognized one of my greatest triggers it long before I admitted it. My obsession with appearance- my body's lack of perfection. 

Writing has become my therapeutic-repentant-change of mind and heart process to overcome this problem. It has been hard to relive all of these feelings. I have received lots of encouraging thoughts, which I am grateful for. I also hope that in someway others can use what I have written to benefit them or someone they love.

Part 3: Confession

This was taken ten years ago. I loved that shirt. I loved crimping my hair. I loved and still love summer skin that is olive-colored and natural. I love this picture now and I wish that my thirteen-year-old self loved it too, but I didn't.

This post is going to backtrack the previous post a few years. I wasn't going to share, but I feel that I need to.

I am not proud of some of the things that I did. The shame of it still haunts me, but I am hanging up my pride and sharing some very personal, sensitive experiences that I had.

If I ever over ate I would run the stairs in my house, or at least try. I never wanted to make a scene so if someone walked by I would just pretend to be walking up or down them.

I had heard that drinking LOTS of water helped loose weight, so I would try that every now and then.

I never starved myself. Food was too delicious, but I often tried purging.

In middle school, the videos of bulimic girls both haunted me and gave me the inspiration to try... 

I don't think it is suppose to work that way...

Everyone was asleep but me. I couldn't sleep. The things that I had put in my mouth were going to make me fat and that thought occupied my mind. I was determined to throw it up and flush down the pain that I felt with it. I knelt next to the toilet with my finger down my throat in an attempt to gag myself. I had tried before with failed attempts. But I was determined, I felt that it was the only way.

I looked into the porcelain bowl, it smelled like bleach. I had been sitting there for a while and tears streaked my face. I pulled my knees to my chest, bowed my head and rocked back and forth trying to sooth my tears. I was ugly. Not only did I think I looked ugly, but I felt ugly for trying such a thing. I continued to cry.

"You are beautiful. You are beautiful because you are mine. My daughter." 

These words were so clear it scared me. Some might call this my conscious, but I believe that the words were of God. That it was a sensation that I needed. I remember that my crying calmed down, and I felt instant peace. I was beautiful, even if I still needed convincing. 

Part 2: Confession

Wow, the last few days have been really eye opening.
I am writing about this part of life so that I can overcome or at least control it. I didn't write this to draw attention to my looks, I didn't write it to connect with anyone particularly... but despite the confidence on a woman's face I know the struggle is real. The struggle to live up to what looks strong, healthy and beautiful.

EVERY GIRL HAS HEARD THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL.
The media fills our minds with images of what we should look like while at the same time telling us that it doesn't matter. Social media has videos all over that display the work of photo editors who change the appearance of a person almost completely. At work yesterday (I work with a lot of designers and photo editors) we watched a tutorial that turned a model into a piece of pizza..

I haven't grown taller since sixth grade. I grew curvier-ish. And I was an "early bloomer" which probably explains why I was a large elementary student. Instead of hiding my body from my size I started hiding it because of the change I was going through. None of my friends had boobs, "why did I always have to be the different one?"

Complements started coming my way. At church one Sunday, I distinctly remember a woman who hadn't seen me for a long time tell me that I was like the ugly duckling who turned into a swan. I thanked her because I honestly liked being compared to a swan. As I have thought about it since I wasn't sure if I should have felt flattered.

The boys seemed to like my changing, and I often got mistaken for an "older woman" but that never left me feeling beautiful, instead I became more self-critical.

From middle school to high school I emersed myself in every aspect of school: academics, sports, and clubs. I lived at there, some days I would be there from 5 in the morning and get home around 10:30 that night. Part of me forgot those fat feelings. Well, pushed them aside until cheer uniform measurements came and I would compare my inches to the skinny, beautiful flyer next to me. Fat. I was too busy to dwell on those thoughts too long. I was happy with my skin most of the time.

Cheer tryouts my Junior year

Part 1: Confession

A promise is a promise - part one of my confession.

Disclaimer: I am not writing this for sympathy or praise. I am writing this because I made a commitment to become better.

I am the problem. Me. I am obsessed with who I am or rather what I am not. The previous statement sounds vain and selfish, which it is, though I wish it wasn't.

The summer after I returned home from serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints I was diagnosed with depression. It runs in my family and I had been watched for signs for a long time. This post isn't about depression though, this post is about me. Depression is a weakness, but it doesn't define me.

But it does lead to the discovery of the greater problem.

The first time I remember stepping on a scale was in the second grade, Mrs. Anderson's class. I think the school nurse came in and weighed everyone. Afterwards, a group of us were sharing our numbers (after all weight at that time was just a number) but when my numbers were noticeably larger than my peers I felt myself sink back into the shadows... I was different.

I was in the second grade! 

Grade school wasn't pleasant for me. My fifth grade year a redheaded boy moved into the class and I was in love. He sat next to me, rode my bus and he actually only lived around the block from my house. I was obsessed with him and he knew it. He abused it. I knew how to tease with the boys (four older brothers will do that to you), but teasing can quickly turn sour. 

It was late spring, the bus had been warmed by the sun and our driver let us keep the windows down as we drove down country roads. My sister and I were in the seat just in front of the new kid and another neighbourhood boy. They were teasing us and we happily took it. I don't remember everything (it was over 13 years ago) but the next thing I remember is a chunk of hair being pulled from my head by the new kid and then he told me to get on SlimFast because I was fat. 

"Whatever," I shook it off. I was bigger than that. What did he know.... Am I fat? I am fat.

When I see my body all I see is fat.

Confession: not a fluffy blog post.

This is today's Pinterest find.

I have a confession to make. A confession of an obsession that is a double-edged sword.

It. it. it. it.IT. it.  it. it.IT. it. it. it. it. it. it. ME.
After any failed attempts, I am ready to come clean- tomorrow.