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.

Let's talk about Hair.

This is the last picture I had with my long locks.

I have had long hair my entire life... up until now.

I have a mother who is a wizard at braiding. She was ahead of all the trends and would braid so tight that my eyes have become permanently slanted because of it... Not really, my slanted eyes come from Dad's side, and no- he is not Asain. Anyway. I have always had people comment on how beautiful my hair was, it became my identity. My hair also became a shield and a way to keep people from seeing who I really am. I vowed to never cut it, I never even considered it to be downright honest.

Even after I got married I distinctly told Brayden that I wouldn't cut it.

It all happened within an hour.

Brayden was playing softball on a men's team in St. George and I had gone to my parents' house for the afternoon. My sister who recently cut her hair came over and was raving on how healthy her hair has gotten since she cut it. No one coaxed me, no one swayed me one way or the other. I sent Brayden a text, "How would you feel about me cutting my hair?" Before he responded I had called my beautician of a sister-in-law (this is 8pm, by the way), met her at her house, and she had cut it off. 

Before I get too far ahead, Brayden texted me and said that I can do whatever I want with my hair. I knew he would say that. Even though, I was still nervous that he wouldn't like it as much... I don't know why. When he came to the house after the games I surprised him with the cut!

I vowed that I wouldn't regret it, and I haven't.

Every girl should cut their hair at least once in their life. It is exhilarating, sassy and fun. Call me ridiculous, but cutting my hair has changed the way I view myself. I know that people will like me for me, not just because I have long hair.

It's about Marriage. It's about Charity.

Photo: Endless Photography

I love when Brayden kisses me goodbye before he goes to work. The smell of his cologne is left lingering in the room for a few moments after he leaves. My attempts to breath it all in before it fades away nearly make me lightheaded, but I don't mind. I love him. I am starting to understand this "cleaving" thing.

I am a romantic. I never wished on shooting stars, instead when I saw a star shooting across the sky I would pray. Wishes are words released into space whereas prayers take action, prayers are answered. As a child, I prayed for the same three things, one of which was my husband. I didn't know him, but I know I would find him and I wanted him to be blessed.

The designs of my wedding dress were often consumed my notebooks. I fantasies about love and my imagination always daydreaming about the wonders of the future.

Marriage is perceived so much differently in the world now... If a marriage is even considered. Songs about cheating and a one-night stand blast across the radio. Movies are filled with adultery and lust. Tonight I was watching a documentary on J.K. Rowling, her husband abused her... my throat was clenched the whole time. How could that even happen? In The Family: A Proclamation to the World, "A husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other... fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as an equal partner." It is a sacred privilege that is a lot of work and brings so much happiness.

While I was getting ready for school yesterday, I turned on Spotify and a song came on that isn't like the usual jams we listen to nowadays. It's a song called My Guy, by Mary Wells. Nothing will take her away from her guy or keep her untrue, she is going to be faithful to her guy because she loves him so much. That is how love, should be.

However, I think relationships are built more on the love that you have for someone, even though, that is a plus. Charity is key. Mormons consider charity to be "the pure love of Christ" which carries a lot more weight. Charity is love, but love is not charity. Charity is service, but service isn't charity either. Charity is pure, honest and sweet. Charity brings joy to both the one receiving and the one giving. Charity helps us center our lives on our Savior. Charity from both parties is the key to a successful marriage.

I have been married nearly four months... So I can't support this blog with years of experience, like many I know who will read this. I know there will be and are rough patches in all marriages that need resolving. But I stand by my theory of Charity.

Hello weekend.

I have been in my pjs all morning, doing homework. I guess weekends aren't all what they are made out to be, but gosh are they close. 

Most things begin when no one is paying attention

photo credit: unsplash.com

As far as my human brain can comprehend there is a beginning to everything, or at least that is what I have been taught. Stories begin with "once upon a time" and a race starts with "ready set go". Babies are born, the sun rises, the school bell rings and scientists have tried to prove the beginning of earth since humans have realized their own existence. 

Do we really know what "beginnings" are- after all most things begin when no one is paying attention anyway.  

In stories the "once upon a time" is a almost like a cheat or a jump to the plot of a story. The racers at a starting mark have been running long before they lined up. Babies live within the womb and their spirits have been alive much longer. The sun rises every morning, new days are inevitable. Learning took place long before buildings and bells. Discovery is part of human nature, but can one truly discover the start?

And if there is a beginning there there has to be an end. I don't believe there is an end either. Progression and change isn't the same as coming to an end.

photo credit: unsplash.com

Look closely. There is a person in this picture, arms are spread and I am sure a realization of life is sweeping over this benevolent soul. I don't know where this is, but I want to go. I want to stand on the edge overlooking beauty and breath in.

Reality check: life is busy. 

I have been raised to work hard, and I am so grateful. I have trained myself to live from a list or else I get anything done. I day dream sometimes and if people observing was a sport I would be a gold medalist. I am a returned missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I have been a student at Utah State and I now attend BYU. I work for BYU Broadcasting. I have made many friends and care for all of them, even though I don't talk to them all anymore. Fresh flowers always catch my eye and I have a conscience that won't let me get away with anything. Sometimes I get depressed, but life is still wonderful. I love to dance in front of the mirror. Writing brings me understanding and I get a high from running long distances. I married a man who is such a blessing in my life that just thinking about him makes me all choked up... 

I consider myself accomplished when I don't compare myself to anyone else. 

But I do. 

I don't mean to.

I want an UNbeginning. I want to climb hills now and make it to school on time. I want to live today and enjoy mortality. I want to spend time discovering purpose and fulfilling my own.

Cheers.