Humor

Warning: Nerd Alert

Guys! My number one guy spent the night. We started out the evening with a thrilling game of Star Wars battle something or other. Rylan said it was akin to a game called Heroes. Basically it was a game of light side vs the dark side; but set up like a grown up game, more commonly known as “Chess.” What it boiled down to was that he each took a turn killing someone on the opposing side. Ry chose the dark side, shocker! So I was forced to play the light side, and I have to admit folks, I was honored. The only rule my friends, was my guys couldn’t kill Darth Vader. I could attack any other of the dark side guys (my favorite thing was attacking the At-At’s after pretending to kill Vader. The kid fell for it every time). Darth Vader would then kill whichever figurine I had chosen to use against his forces.

Finally! I realized I had more than rebel troops and x-wing pilots, I HAD R2-D2. And when I realized it after losing half of my army, I exclaimed, “Ohhhhh!!!! I have R2-D2!!” To which Rylan promptly replied, “yeah you get to electrocute (people) to death,” in the squeaky creepy voice he sometimes gets when he describes oddly specific death scenarios. When I then proceeded to kill one of his Imperial army guys with R2-D2 and tried to retaliate, I had to draw the line; if Vader gets to live, so does R2-D2. I forgot to also mention, the first one he had Vader kill, was my ewok; so obviously I was taking this very hard.

Fortunately, Ry quickly gave up before I had to extend the same immunity to Hans, Chewy, and C-3PO (not sure where Luke was during this crisis and also, why wasn’t their a Leia).

I made him hot cocoa because I was fresh out of chocolate milk (but he didn’t want iced hot chocolate haha). He took up 3/4 of my bed with his knees and elbows in my back as he fell asleep after asking if we could listen to Harry Potter while falling asleep.

I love him and I cherish every single snuggle he lets me get.

Mental Health

If You’re Sad and Feeling Blue

So if you’ve read my blog, you know I struggle with depression. This month it’s been coming on ever so slowly. I hate it. I can use my tools as much as I want, but eventually, the crash will come and I hate it because I know I can’t fully stop it. The worst thing about depression, is watching it arrive, only to fight it, and still pick yourself up… again…only to know that it absolutely WILL come to visit again.

An unfortunate constant. Especially when I literally have nothing to be sad about. I’ve been writing more, been getting outside more, I have lost over 60 pounds, and I feel beautiful. Confident even. I should be celebrating.

The weekend I went to the cabin I thought maybe I had beaten this round. Yet, I may have found myself driving to work, wishing something apocalyptic had happened so Life could be canceled…or I could just not exist anymore. Folks, I wish I were kidding.

I don’t mean to alarm anyone. If things like that are creeping in, I reach out to someone. And I did and I ALWAYS do. This is part of depression. Everything is going great, but there are those tapes we’ve been playing in our thick skulls since as far back as we can remember. A negative thought sits on the outskirts of our brains. Soft at first, insisting you don’t deserve to be happy. You keep pushing along, because you know there are reasons to celebrate; reasons to thrive.

I’m so grateful I have learned to utilize the tools I’ve learned that help me pull myself out of the meanest sets of the doldrums. Find time to create✅ Reach out to a few of my MANY solid friends✅ (again, guys!! Grateful🙌❤️) self-care✅ Spend time with some of my cherished Little’s ✅

I started out the day on the verge of tears, and tonight my heart is full. I am so loved. I am so blessed in like, every single way. There is hope and picking yourself up again is always worth it.

Tonight’s post written to:

With the game muted in the background. Go Warriors!

Mental Health

Five Sure Steps to Becoming More Brave

Every step towards growth is a step that matters. But sometimes taking those steps is uncomfortable…and scary. Uncomfortableness can lead to some pretty intense anxiety. Figuring out how to manage the stress and anxiety, is to combat it with every weapon you can brandish. Here are just a few things that helped me get through another week of being brave.

1. Invest in some fantastic waterproof makeup. Because sometimes being brave hurts a little. Because being honest and authentic is hard. Saying those honest things is harder. And if you’re sensitive, there may be days filled with intermittent crying sessions. But if you have waterproof makeup, you can have a tiny cry when the moment arises and then you can still look like the new confident rockstar you actually are.

2. Keep a tight schedule. For me, being brave is hard. And it means being completely open and honest with how I’m feeling. Which in turn has meant that I’ve had to be more vocal about my feelings. Confronting and voicing those feelings can be uncomfortable. I am not advocating keeping yourself so busy that you don’t take care of yourself, because that doesn’t make sense. But in line with keeping goals, spend your time working towards them. Chase those dreams as you move through the uncomfortableness. It will help ground you and keep you focused.

3. Don’t neglect your self care. Because if you are going to tirelessly chase your dreams and improve your life, you will burn out if you go full stop. At least in my case. So schedule downtime and honor it. (I hope you all know, I’m saying this because this list is more for me than anything). Watch a movie with your friend or by yourself. Listen to Justin Timberlake and dance around in your underthings. Just make sure you are honoring whatever it is that feels right to you.

4. Exercise is important! If you are prone to anxiety attacks this might be especially important. When you go about doing brave things that shake you out of your comfort zone, the moments before you do it and even for a bit after can rattle you a bit. In order to move through this, breathing becomes especially important. And what better way to do it than to get your yoga or swimming or hiking exercise on. So get out your mat and do some sun salutations and strike some warrior poses. Your body and your calm mind will thank you.

5. Prayer! Keep on talking with Heavenly Father. He will help sustain you and direct you to more opportunities in which to be brave. If you don’t believe in a higher power, I say meditate. I do that too. Slowing down and being mindful of where you are and checking in with how you feel is a great way to figure out if there are any adjustments you need to make to your new brave routine so you can keep fighting the good fight.

And with that, I will leave you with this quote:

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” -Nelson Mandela

*photo credit to Catherine McMahon

My First Novel

An Introduction to Grace’s Mom

Brianne: Christmas 1990

The rumble of the MAX shook the abandoned building Brianne was sleeping in. She shivered as she woke. Fumbling for the dirty canvas tarp she was using as a blanket as she wondered how long she had been out. Her stomach growled loudly and simultaneously she felt nauseous. Her head was pounding from lack of food. Pulling the ragged purple beanie further down over her ears, she realized she was sweating. A tremulous shiver ran down her spine and she closed her eyes willing her body to warm itself and hopefully drift off to sleep.

After a few minutes she had to get up. Brianne paced agitatedly the length of the makeshift bed she had fashioned. Pulling at her hair and itching her arms under her thermal shirt. Sifting through her scattered thoughts, she attempted to construct some kind of game plan for the day. But she didn’t even know what day it was. “Was the shelter full? Is today the day Jaxson was back from the coast?” she thought as she tugged her sweaty and oily hair under her beanie. “My hair used to be so beautiful and healthy,” she thought dismissively and switched back to wondering what day it was.

The rain on the roof was thundering and only intensifying her anxiety. She grabbed her dirty red jansport backpack with all her belongings, pulled an old scarf out and threw it on. She donned her backpack, shoved her sleeping tarp and makeshift cardboard box pillows under some random garbage on the side of the room and set off to check out the shelter scene.

The icy Oregon winter rain penetrated her thermals almost immediately. Brianne couldn’t feel her toes in the holey boots she was wearing. The rain seemed to penetrate into her very bones. Her beanie was good protection from the rain, but not from the intense sweating she was doing underneath it. Brianne’s thoughts were jumbled and she couldn’t quite remember where she was going. If only Jaxson were back; maybe she could then shake this nauseated feeling and maybe she could be warm again.

By the time she reached the shelter her teeth were chattering and she was shaking so badly she couldn’t see straight. She felt a tremendous urge to vomit, but she wasn’t sure when the last time there was even any food in her stomach. “How long was I out?” she thought listlessly. She hadn’t reached the doors, but a nearby garbage can provided a place for her to dry heave in. Trying to stand up straight proved to be impossible as the world around her began to spin. Brianne suddenly felt the only thing she could do was lay down, and so she did. She fell in a heap to the wet and icy ground

Humor · My First Novel · The Fair Young Maiden · writing

I’m back

Hello all! Just wanted to apologize for my long absence. Nanowrimo took a lot out of me…which is funny, because I didn’t finish my book! I did, however, discover a whole new plot line for Grace. I decided to make it about Grace AND her mom. It will be a piece that is more about growth and forgiveness… and I am so excited about it. I just need to schedule more time to do the actual writing. I’ll pick a sample this week and introduce you to her mom. I think you will want to know her story, just as much as Grace’s.

I have another blogpost I just wrote up tonight, but since I am exhausted, I plan on editing it with fresh eyes tomorrow. The blog topics will range from Oprah’s Golden Globes speech, my religion, and the fresh outlook I have for 2018 with new ways I intend on challenging myself. Thank you to any of you who have continued to follow me in my absence! I look forward to getting back into the swing of things.

Mental Health

Me Too

I wasn’t going to post Me Too on my wall. I didn’t want people to make assumptions or to think I was throwing a pity party. I was ashamed because I didn’t want people to think about my past and think, “well that’ll teach you.” Then I saw someone completely unexpected post it on her wall and it gave me the courage to speak up. Before I knew it, post after post of women and men who I am friends with on Facebook and Twitter started opening up about their Me Too stories. My heart began to ache. There is so much that some people don’t understand. Rape culture IS a thing. You can’t look at your social media pages today and think otherwise. I am certain it is not just my newsfeed that is flooded with women and men who have been either sexually harassed or assaulted standing together; trying to show that this issue is way too common.

Photo by Ben Blennerhassett on Unsplas

I have been overwhelmed with simultaneous feelings of grief and fury at the outpouring of admissions of someone else’s Me Too story. My heart breaks to see that so many people  have experienced the same loss of power and the sense of shame and embarrassment that I have been through. In some ways I feel like I should not be surprised. I am part of a support group that deals with this. I know women and men who have suffered sexual harassment and assault; and yet, the magnitude of just how many people have dealt with this kind of trauma breaks my heart. There is so much I want to say about this subject, and all I can do is cry. And then, just when I begin to think I am going to close the laptop because this is triggering a lot of emotions, I distract myself by pulling up Facebook and I see more posts from family and friends posting the heartbreaking words, “Me Too,” and I decide it is something I can write about.

 

So I sit here in a puddle of tears trying to articulate this deep sense of loss I feel not only for myself, but for so many other people, men and women who have lost a part of themselves because someone hurt them. And whether it was harassment or assault, both come with loss. Loss of power, loss of confidence, loss of self-esteem…so many things. I heard somewhere recently that the more you tell your story, the power it has over you lessens.Two dear friend’s gave me permission to write about their stories that they shared with me because of this movement. Both of these women deserve to heal, and I think opening up about it can be empowering.

 

One friend shared a story about having something slipped into her drink. She blacked out and she can’t remember all of the night. What she does remember is that she had to concentrate on trying to yell. Despite the effect of the drug she managed to make enough noise that he stopped. She spoke of the shame she felt and how painful it has been keeping that in.

She blamed herself!? Guys!! How is she to blame!? Consent is consent. If it’s not there, it IS rape. I am so glad she spoke out. She told her story and she expressed awe and love for each woman who she saw posting. I want to thank her too.

 

My other dear friend did not share her story publicly, but gave me permission to post it anonymously through my blog. A kid in her class years ago would grab her butt constantly when she was up in front of the class. Because everyone laughed, other guys started doing it too. She was humiliated and kept it a secret for 25 years. Only recently did she even tell her therapist. I am so proud of her. People, if someone does not give you consent to touch their body, DON’T do it. It really isn’t so hard to keep your darn hands to yourself. My sweet friend shared with me that it is what she believes cause her to start gaining weight. It has caused feelings of disgust with her own body and shame at having allowed it…because she was too embarrassed to tell the teacher or her parents. I am so proud of her for finally saying something. I really do believe that there is power in telling your story.

 

I don’t feel like it is necessary to share your specific Me Too story in order to convey that so many people are affected. In fact, I am not going to share my story. For me it is still traumatic. Which is why I really had to push through the beginning of this post. I am not ready to share that part of me publicly and I think that is ok too. There are people, places, and times to share when I need to. I can tell you with certainty that I am going to group tomorrow for the first time in a month and a half. This has definitely triggered all the emotions and I know it is time to start working again. Specifics of each person’s story does not matter in the context of being open about how many of us have been either assaulted or harassed. What is important is that we find someway to not only weaken its power over us, but to also bring awareness to those who do not realize that this is such an underserved issue. And if you were ever hurt there are people who can help you. Contact the Rape Recovery Center if you are in Utah. If you are out of state check out www.rainn.org

 

Thank you to all who may read this. And thank you to all the brave souls who are speaking out.