I Ruin Everything I Touch

I don't know how to live with being insane. I'm trying to figure it out, but how can I?

How can I determine solutions for dealing with my mental health issues with it all begins in my mind anyway? I feel as though I can't trust my brain. All the craziness, all the irrationality, all the peaks and troughs, the self-destruction, the great force of negativity, it all begins there. Each impulse I feel is probably misguided. I can't tell the good ideas from the bad. The rage flows in and out of planning the week, clocking in at work, and making lunch for the kids. I don't trust what could be coming out of my own mouth.

How do I temper the anxiety and still live? Do I even bother trying? Every attempt I make at being normal, sociable, and a contributing member of society gets blown over by my inability to think rationally. My mental illness defines what I become in every aspect of my life.

Do I stop myself from pursuing my dreams because I know I will eventually ruin everything I have built up anyway? Do I stop myself from creating meaningful relationships because my mind will eventually rot them for me, or cause me to do things that destroy close relationships? Why bother letting people in when I will inevitably drive them back out? Do I chase anything worse pursuing even when I can't stop second guessing myself, or feeling like I can't keep up a charade of "having it all together?" Do I halt career and schooling options because the stress makes everything worse?

This is to say nothing of the regret I already feel. Why did I bring a spouse into my life so that they have to deal with all my repercussions and pick up all the pieces after I implode? Even worse, why did I bring children into the world, and see all the faulty ways which I parent? So that I can see all my own weaknesses and shortcomings in them? I feel I have done them a disserve by being their mother, because I understand that my insanity is inheritable. Am I just creating a horrible household for them to grow up in, through no fault of their own?

What kind of a life is worth building when all I do is ruin everything I touch? When all I can do is overthink and overanticipate and freak out about everything I do, and everything that everyone else does? When all my self-critical anxiety stains everything I am, and bleeds onto everything I touch or create, what is the point of creating? What's the point of jobs, friends, family relationships, hobbies, education, and everything else that gives life meaning? I'm just going to ruin it all.

My mind is a terrible place to be.

Minimalism Challenge . . .

Day 1: Define your personal style

Home
My personal style is best described with one word: simple. I like clean lines and simple palettes. I like having visual room-to-breathe. I like white and black (or really dark brown). I like classic style and traditional touches. I don't like frills. I don't like gaudy. I don't like hodge-podge, mismatched, or cluttered. I don't like rustic or bohemian. I just want my house to be pretty. I want to have everything around me look nice. I want my house to feel quiet, clean, and orderly. I want it to feel like fresh air.

Wardrobe
My home's style is more aesthetically oriented than my clothing's style. Comfort and cost are the most important factors over my clothing purchases. My colors are: purple, blue, teal/turquoise, grey, black, white, mint, and pink/coral. Colors are generally vivid; I don't do muted tones. I don't believe in ruffles, animal print, or anything uncomfortable. Items should be fitted, in general. Stripes are encouraged. Dark jeans and pants are necessary.

Day 2: Pick a theme for your home and/or wardrobe

Home
My home's theme is "timeless." Nothing should feel dated or trendy. Everything should "hang well" together.

Wardrobe
My wardrobe's theme is "simple." Everything goes together; I have a defined color palette. Selecting clothes shouldn't be hard, because everything should always be an option, no matter what else I have picked out. I don't need to be loud in my fashion choices; I don't need to draw attention to myself. Words like "feminine" or "playful" don't need to apply. I just want to look neat and put together.

Day 3: My most essential clothing items

Striped or solid long sleeve or 3/4 length shirts in my main colors (see above), V neck tees, blue or grey cardigans, dark blue or grey skinny jeans and capris, Bermuda shorts if I can find any, Navy blue peacoat, brightly colored sweatshirts, grey riding boots, black Vans, strappy sandals, flats in all my colors, Blowfish booties, simple and dainty jewelry, dresses in my colors in fitted cuts, pencil skirts, black tights, metallics,

Day 4: Write down five things you are grateful for

My husband - Hands down, the best part of my life. He makes every day better. He is my partner forever. He is my #1.

My religion - Keeps me centered, keeps me sane, keeps me going. If I lost everything else, it would continue to give me comfort. It is the foundation for everything I do and am in this life.

My kids - James is smart, funny, sweet, energetic, optimistic, kind, silly, my ultimate friend. Avery is soft, snuggly, sweet, bashful, smiley, my little light. Love them.

My (extended) family - We have so many family members close by. They help us out all the time. We never spend a holiday alone. We always have someone to call for help. We are very lucky in that way.

Our financial situation - 80% luck/blessings and 20% hard work, we have been in a much better situation financially than most people our age. I am so grateful. It gives me so much peace.

Five Year Goals . . .

How do I want my life to feel in five years?

calm
secure
simple
fulfilled

Where was I five years ago?

In 2011, I was attending SUU; I didn't have a degree yet. I had decided to do Family Services and Studio Arts minors. I planned on applying to grad school to become a Marriage and Family Therapist. Instead, I didn't go to grad school. I had a baby. I worked a lot for a little bit of money. I did pencil commissions. I illustrated a children's book. I built a house.

What do I want from my life in five years?

• No big gaps in my resume
• More about family, less about a job (and maybe put the job aside if its what my family needs)
• Money isn't the most important consideration
• Help my kids to:
• Be involved
• Be successful in school
• Be gaining new experiences
• Be pursuing/discovering their own passions
• Be a [...] parent:
• Kind
• Patient
• Involved
• Attentive
• Forgiving
• Never work at a job I hate
• Do work that feels meaningful
• Have an identity outside of "mom"

Quotes . . .

The heart that gives, gathers. - Marianne Moore

Change your thoughts and change your world. -Norman Vincent Peale

If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.

Burn brightly without burning out.  -Richard Biggs

Nothing happens . . . But first a dream. -Carl Sandburg

It is one of the most beautiful compensations in life . . . That no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself. -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sometimes, in the winds of change, we find our true direction.

Throw your heart over the fence and the rest will follow. -Norman Vincent Peale

Courage does not always roar.  Sometimes it is a quiet voice at the end of the day, saying . . . “I will try again tomorrow.”  -Mary Anne Radmacher

Laughter is an instant vacation. -Milton Berle

The best sermons are lived, not preached. -Cowboy wisdom

Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. -Robert Brault

It’s choice - not chance - that determines your destiny. -Jean Nidetch

To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides. -David Viscott

Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless. -Mother Teresa

Joy is a light that fills you with hope, faith and love.

A flaw in Modern Medicine . . .

Let me be plain. I love modern medicine. I love that my child is vaccinated against diseases that wreak havoc on tiny bodies. I love that several of my family members are alive despite having cancer at one point or another in their lives. I love that my labor was not really unpleasant, thanks to the lovely anesthetics running through my peripheral nervous system.

However . . .

I'm kind of at a loss as to the biggest problem my son's pediatrician has with his health. It's his weight. James is in the 2nd percentile for weight for his age group. I could go into why I think this is a load of crap because he was breastfed and we didn't start him on solids for six months and blah blah blah. The real issue I have with this notion is that I am being asked to go against my child's own desires to try to get more food into him.

Because James is now two standard deviations away from the mean weight of children born on his birthday, we are now having to supplement his diet with Pediasure (which sucks, because so far James has really hated Pediasure). It's got 240 calories per bottle and I am supposed to give it to him all in one sitting, once a day. Our previous approach of "feed him more" didn't work so well. He needs to drink more whole milk and get more iron. I am kind of baffled.

Why am I feeding my son when he is not even hungry? Why am I trying to give him a certain amount of food that is completely unrelated to his own appetite? Why am shoving a nasty drink he dislikes in his face to drop straight fat and calories into his system when he is already satiated? What is that going to accomplish? So he can be more like the other kids? Do we even want that? What if these kids turned out like most adults? I certainly wouldn't want that.

Did you know that heart disease is the biggest killer in America? 25% of deaths every year are related to heart disease. Do you know what the biggest risk factors for heart disease are? Having diabetes, being overweight/obese, having a poor diet, and being physically inactive. So, basically, being a fat, lazy American is killing 25% more people than we would have had normally.

Is this the standard I am trying to fulfill? I'm trying to fatten my kid up so he will be "normal," but do I even want him to be normal? The only thing I could do to ensure my child a more quick death would be to give him cigarettes, according to the CDC. Do medical professionals see the irony that they are telling parents to give their kids "x" amount of food, even more food if their child is underweight, and they turn around and tell adults they need to scale back their diet. Am I the only one who wonders if the two are actually related?

So I spend the next few years conditioning James' metabolism and appetite handle more food. I go against his base instincts to bring him up to the standard by which we judge all kids (each other), but when he stops growing and still wants more food, I wonder why my child is getting overweight?

I'm not saying it's going to happen. I am just postulating the fact that maybe one of the reasons we are so freaking fat in this country is because we think we have to have our children weigh something that is based on something arbitrary and stupid. Of the other kids on that chart, how many parents are feeding their kids candy and pop and ice cream and pizza and all kids of other crap that are just packing on the pounds? And my child looks smaller because of it.

Maybe it is time to rethink the paradigm that we should go against a child's base urges to fit them into an unrealistic mold that clearly just results in him being unable to run up a staircase without being winded. Or lose his ability to see his feet over his gut by the time he hits 40. Or whatever. Doesn't his little body, which pumps blood, secretes hormones, converts oxygen into ATP, and eliminates toxins from the system deserve to be trusted in knowing how many calories it needs? And when to stop eating?

I dunno. Guess not.

A few of my favorite things . . .

Before I had James, I did a journal prompt that was titled "100 Things I Love." I recently revisited this list and enjoyed it so much, I wanted to add it to the blog.

Here we go:

100 Things I Love: (in no particular order)

Skinny jeans. Finishing an art project. Music. The feeling after working out. Candy. Surprises. Fruit. Painting. Pictures. Learning. Halloween. A clean kitchen. Cinnamon rolls. Nostalgia. Alphabetizing. Rain. Lemonade. Summer. Organized spaces. Dustin Kensrue. Spaghetti. Mean Girls. Psychology. Fireworks. Purple. Family. The smell of fall. Alaska. Sleeping in. Spice cake. The 4th of July. Tommy Boy. Being LDS. Neuroscience. Mountains. Presents. Harry Potter. Pad Thai. Reading. Mom. Singing in the car. Lists. The 90's. Sunshine. Temples. Warm concrete on bare feet after the sun goes down. Kissing. Crafting. Nieces and nephews. Picture frames. JACOB. The smell of laundry detergent. Laughing. Having the day off. Being outside. Vacation. Doodling. Thrice. Thunderstorms. Cuddling. Playing games. Trees. Volleyball. Buying small notebooks/journals. Mopping. Snow cones. Shopping (not grocery). Nail polish. Lemon meringue pie. Teal. Apple/cinnamon scents. Shaved legs + clean sheets. Guitars. Staying up late talking. Vans shoes. Hot tubs. Prismacolors. Christmas. Ron Swanson. Clouds. Garlic. Scrapbook paper. Walking barefoot on sand. Following through. Hanging out. Screen printing. Hermione Granger. Cardigans. Sushi. Mom's homemade ham & potato soup. Hugs. Screamo. Corn on the cob. Doner Kebab. Vienna. Virgin margaritas. JAMES. Volcom. Kayaking. Sour cream & onion potato chips.

I looooove making lists (obviously, it's in the above list), but this list has to make me more happy than any other list!

Why the Stay-at-Home Mom vs. Working Mom Debate Exists . . .

The mommy wars are always ridiculous. I say this knowing full well that I have, at one time or another, contributed to them. But I think the worst mommy war topic is staying home vs. working. People can be so wretchedly mean about their opinions. So I started thinking about why such animosity exists between these two, fairly similar groups of people. Here's what I came up with.

1. Everyone wants to be validated

Basically all moms want to provide the best life possible for their children. This, however, can mean different things to different people. Sometimes it seems like the best way you can make your child's life better is to earn more money. Some circumstances mandate that you need to make more money for your child to make their life better (see #3). Sometimes people think giving their child a stable, consistent home life is the best start. Either way, we make our choice, and we hope we are doing the best thing.

And we want people to know that we are indeed doing the best thing.

So we seek validation. If saying how hard being a stay at home mom is on Facebook, someone will probably comment "Amen" or something. But it also makes us feel better about our own circumstances to trash whatever group of people is doing the opposite. Pointing out the flaws in others' plans can make us feel better about our own. This is true for many life circumstances, not just parenting, and not just this specific aspect of parenting. We want to feel like what we are doing is best. So we make a war out of it.

2. Knee jerk responses are real

This one is related to the first. If you were a working mother, and someone had the audacity to say that stay-at-home moms give their child the best start at life, or they somehow are superior, wouldn't you get defensive? It is easy to pile on the criticism either way. I have heard both. "Stay-at-home moms are lazy!" (I have seen some pretty damning videos that show just what the world thinks stay-at-home moms do all day.) "Working moms are selfish!" Whatever. Obviously neither of those things are true. But when you feel attacked, it's what you will come up with. Mostly to make yourself feel better about your situation.

3. Sometimes circumstances are out of our control

I am a stay-at-home mom by choice. Mostly. Honestly, I could probably get a job; I have decent qualifications. I know there is good day care in my area. But I would rather not. I do find my experience raising my child day-to-day rewarding.

But...

This wasn't exactly my plan. I grew up in a household that strongly rewarded academic achievement. My parents raised two valedictorians (note: there are only two kids in our family). My mindset has always been one of work and school and getting that paper. But my husband got a great job opportunity in our small hometown, and the university doesn't have a Master's program I'm interested in pursuing. (My poor choice of undergraduate degree doesn't help this situation.)

So this is what I do. I stay home and raise the baby so we can save money on daycare and because I am kind of out of options right now.

I don't think I am the only person to end up working or not working because of circumstances out of my control. And when you feel kind of stuck, you feel kind of defensive. Some working moms are working moms by choice, and some are not. Maybe most are not entirely sold one ways or the other. But if you do feel stuck, it might ease the pain of being stuck by lashing out a bit. Angry Internet rants aside, when you put down others (see #1) or boost yourself up, you may be able to make yourself feel a bit more in control in your situation.

4. There is good and bad to both circumstances

I worked a small number of hours a week from the time my little one was 7 weeks old until he was 4 1/2 months old. There were a lot of reasons to stop working that I won't get into. But it came as kind of a relief to not have to worry about juggling being a caregiver and, well, being a caregiver (ironically, that was my actual job title).

I thought the stress of life would immediately melt away because I didn't have to worry about working anymore. It didn't. Shocking, I know. Turns out there is a lot of stress in being home all day. The trouble with being a stay-at-home mom is that you are stuck at work 24 hours a day. At least if you work at home and work at work, your environment changes a bit. I see the same tasks facing me from the moment I get up in the morning 'til the moment I lay down at night. In addition, being a stay-at-home mom was challenging in all the wrong ways. You aren't tackling anything monumental or life affirming, you are just doing the mundane things that every household has to accomplish in order to function. And your co-workers (babies) are pretty demanding.

However, being a stay-at-home mom is pretty great at the same time. I have taken a greater interest in my old hobbies since I stopped working. My co-worker is dang cute and funny! And I am in remarkable control of my hours, especially now that baby is older.

There is good and bad.

I felt the same way working and raising a child. It was hectic to coordinate baby-sitters. It was exhausting to leave one job to come home to more work. But it is so rewarding to earn your own money and accomplish things outside of laundry and cleaning. Good and bad co-exist here, too.

I think that's where the root of the war comes in. Neither circumstance is perfect. Unsurprisingly, since there is virtually nothing on earth that is perfect. However, nitpicking, complaining, and unrestrained use of Internet commentating allow us to say whatever we want to whatever end we please.

So the war takes more victims.

I was not the first stay-at-home mom to be offended by someone else's slander. Nor will I be the last. But I think it helps to identify with something other than such a narrow framework. I am a stay-at-home mom, currently. I probably won't always stay home. There will be a good 30 years after the kids have gone before I die. Who knows what will happen then. And who knows what will happen when all the kids are old enough to be in school.

The point is, it doesn't freaking matter.

You do the best you can with the circumstances you are in. You try to make good choices for your family. And you shut the @#$% up about so-and-so's choices because it has absolutely nothing to do with you.

Okay, moving on.

One of my favorite things . . . ever . . .

This post is about to get weird. You have been warned.

Not weird in the way a good portion of the Internet is weird. But weird in the way that I am about to talk about something people don't spend much time talking about.

Breasts, medically speaking.

Yes, it's weird. I don't know why it's weird, but I'll get to that later.

Okay, here's the point of the post: I love breastfeeding. Seriously, absolutely no joke, I adore it.

Time to make a list (I make a lot of those)

Why I Love Breastfeeding:

1. I'll start with the motivation I had behind breastfeeding. Before there was ever a baby or a need to feed him, I wanted to breastfeed because of the medical benefits. Hopefully, most people are at least somewhat aware of them. I think the best argument for why breastfeeding is best can be found on every container of infant formula. It says, and I quote: "Experts agree, breastfeeding is best for baby." If the #1 competition for breastfeeding conceded that breastfeeding is best, it must certainly be so. But, to convince you further, here are some more detailed arguments:
   *Even after one feeding, your baby's levels of immunoglobulins (the building blocks of the immune system) skyrocket to exactly what they need. A breastfeeding mother gives her baby her very own immune system. A formula fed child takes two years to reach those same levels. Breast milk contains antibodies for illnesses that the mother is current battling, protecting her child from the contagions that he would be exposed to anyway.
   *Breast milk changes over the course of a babies life to suit the needs of a baby at the very specific point in the development they need it.
   *Breast milk contains agents that scientists have not been able to identify and formula does not contain, because we do not know how to replicate them.
   *Babies who are formula-fed have higher incidences of ear infections, eczema, food allergies, asthma, gastrointestinal infections that cause vomiting and diarrhea, pneumonia and other respiratory diseases, obesity in adolescence and adulthood, type 1 and type 2 diabetes, childhood leukemia and lymphoma, and sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS). (This info is from the American Academy of Pediatrics guide to breastfeeding.)
Every health organization across the world recommends exclusive breastfeeding for the first six months of life. So, yeah, breastfeeding is awesome.

2. Now, for the unexpected benefits. The best one by far is the closeness. Holding that baby close to you, his little hands resting on you, his little eyes glancing up at you. Ugh, I can't even handle it. It is one of the best feelings in the world. It is, of course, related to the skin-to-skin contact that is so beneficial for babies health and mom's psychological health. It also has to do with the rush of oxytocin the bodies generates while breastfeeding. Nothing like a hormonal boost of good feelings to make you associate positivity with something you are doing.

3. Feeling like a champion because every single ounce and inch that the baby has grown is 100% because of me. What kind of a rock star am I when I single-handed grew that baby (inside and outside the womb)! I obviously feel pretty cool about myself when I look at how big his head is getting or how much longer he is now and think that, for his first six months, that was all because of my efforts.

4. Once he started becoming the wiggle-meister that he currently is, being able to hold him and have him lie (mostly) still was a nice feeling. I, for one, loved having a little cuddly newborn, and miss that in itself quite a lot. Breastfeeding is the closest I get to having my newborn back.

Now, to clarify, breastfeeding is NOT easy, in the beginning. For some people, it is never easy. I totally understand the "why am I doing this?" feeling. I, fortunately, just never even considered the option that I was going to try formula feeding instead. It was like my brain did not permit that kind of thought. After, 5 weeks, things got considerably easier. I was able to say, yes, I can make it to six months. That is reasonable. And after about three months, I began to really love it. (It helps that it takes him much less time to each, so it is basically like a 10 minute cuddle now, whereas before it was an hour long ordeal.)

Two things I need to say. I do not intend to attack anyone or insult anyone who did not breastfeed their child. I understand that there are a multiplicity of reasons for not breastfeeding. Sometimes the body is just physically not capable of doing it. Sometimes it is a ridiculously hard trial and it never seems to get easier. I get that.

I did want to say this so that if someone reads this who is contemplating quitting might be able to try it a little bit longer. I also wanted to post this to hopefully change someone's mind who is like, "I'm just going to formula feed, it seems easier." At least try! It's almost selfish to not even try!

Lastly, I hope that someone who hates it might be able to endure it long enough to have this wonderful positively experience that I have been so blessed to have. I am 100% sure that I am going to cry the day James is completely weaned. I will miss this wonderfully fulfilling and meaningful experience. One of my greatest achievements is that I stuck with it long enough to have this kind of wonderful experience with my baby. I am so grateful for that.

Post 6 months . . .

I heard it going into having a baby, but I didn't have any concept for it: the first six months of new parenthood is ridiculously hard. There were times when it wasn't that bad, sure, but it seemed like there was way more time spent going "oh, crap, I can't do this."

Maybe I'm just a bad mom. I don't know. I've never been a mom before, I have nothing to compare this to. But I felt like I was going to lose my shi* often. Speaking of shi*, I have sworn more in the last 7 1/2 months than I had in the entire 23 years previous. It's just hard. I like making lists, so here's a list of what is so hard.

1. Sleep. I feel I covered this extensively in the last post, so I will move on.

2. Being needed. Constantly. I think the time after you move out of your parents house and before you become a parent is some of the most me-centric time your whole life. I seriously did what I wanted 98% of the time. Yes, I was going to school and working, but when I got home, especially if the husband wasn't home, I did whatever I dang well pleased. If I wanted to take a nap, I napped. If I wanted to play video games, I played video games. Etc. But I feel like so much of my life is dictated by the needs of this small human. I mean, I can try to do something I want to do, even if it seems like it might work out for a minute. But it doesn't really last. Baby always needs something, it seems. In the past month or so, James has started napping consistently enough that I am able to shower while he sleeps. This is a huge accomplishment. Having the opportunity to shower every day, before noon! Wow. That is wild stuff. So freeing, except when I think about the freedoms of pre-baby life.

3. Expectations. They kill everything, but they especially kill the fun of having a baby. I knew from my Child Development classes that newborns slept approximately 17 hours a day. So I assumed that he would just be sleeping constantly. And he sure seemed to be falling asleep constantly, but dang, he never slept for long. And he sure liked to be awake at 1:00 AM those first two weeks of his life. But the expectations continue to kill you even after you start realize that you have become a walking zombie and that's probably how things are going to be for a while. Like expecting him to cry less as he gets older. Or expecting that bedtimes will get easier as he gets older. Or expecting him to like green beans because you like green beans. Or expecting him to sleep through the night at 4 months because many babies sleep through the night at four months. Expectations basically just set you up for failure and make you feel like you have done something wrong, when the reality is you are just responsible for this little being that hasn't been a part of the world for even a year and has no idea what the paradigm of life is out here. It's cool. He's just a baby.

4. Being a stay-at-home mom. This is obviously not applicable to everyone, nor should it be. Some families do it differently, and that is fine. It made the most sense in our family for me to stay home with James. And I am glad I do, and I don't miss my job much at all. But it is trying stuff. I get to deal with the fussiness and the poop and the spit up and the changing clothes and the too-short naps and all the like, every day, all day. There isn't a ton of opportunity for breaks. And it is hard to change the working woman mindset to one that is okay with feeling accomplished doing things in the home. It is hard to have so many hours at home spent talking to a baby and myself. Yes, I talk to myself. I kind of have to. I have too many words not to.

Okay, we'll call that a decent list. But I am here to say one thing today:

It has gotten so much better. I do not want to say that it was like we hit the six month threshold and, all of a sudden, everything was wonderful. I just slowly realized "hey, this is easier than it used to be." Maybe I am just getting better at dealing with things, or maybe James finally learned to sit up and entertain himself for longer periods of time. Or he is learning how to put himself back down when he wakes up at night. Or he stopped waking up so much after 45 minutes of napping. Whatever, it doesn't matter, it has gotten easier.

One thing parents do to each other than is unintentionally cruel is say things like, "I'm sorry things are hard right now, but just wait until he gets to [insert arbitrary age here] and things will be so much better." Because I heard those things and hit so many of those supposed "milestones," and nothing changed.  (It goes back to why expectations suck.) But I do want to get the point across, that at some point in time, it will be easier. I don't know when. I think it is different for every parent-baby combination. It probably took a long time with us because the thing that I struggle with the most was dealing with sleep deprivation and the things James dealt with the worst was sleeping well. So the combination was explosive. But thank goodness, things have gotten better.

I also want to say that just because those six month were so incredibly hard for me doesn't diminish the fact that I love my baby tremendously. In fact, loving my baby was sort of a mantra to help me through those rough times. "I do this because I love him. I do this because I wanted to be a parent and raise babies and this is what raising babies looks like. I do this because I wanted this baby. I do this because I love him."

So, all in all, being a parent is wonderfully, exquisitely sucky. And, oddly, worth it. Thankfully, the suckiness does seem to diminish. Even if it never completely disappears.

My little man . . .

I guess the appropriate beginning to my return to the blog would be talking about James. He's my baby. He's kind of awesome. Of course, any mom is probably partial to their own creation, but I do love my James. He is a fat, happy, giggling, cuddly (sometimes), loud, soft, sweet baby, who is growing up way too fast. Here are all the good things about James:

~He loves to laugh. And be happy. And smile. And all things that are good. This is one happy baby. Not necessarily always "content" (he is a wiggler), but he is pretty easy to keep happy. He is also ticklish, which is adorable. He really doesn't cry much at all.

~He loves all the things other babies hate. Bath time. Getting his diaper changed. His car seat. His crib. Etc. This baby is just so . . easy. I have seen so many other babies scream at the very notion of getting bathed or changed, and I feel so blessed that James is totally cool with so much of the things we have to do.

~He is a good eater, and has been for a long time. Not necessarily forever. But after about week five, he totally got the hang of breastfeeding and decided he was going to be a totally awesome eater. The same seems to be true for solids. He was a little hesitant at first with the solids (and rice cereal doesn't agree with his belly, but we moved on from that), but he eats really well now. Except green beans. But everyone is allowed to have something they don't like, food-wise.

~He goes down so easily for sleeping. This baby was HAAAAARD to sleep train (and I use that word referring only to conditioning a child to the circumstances under which you would like them to sleep. I am in no way referring to cry-it-out. Let's get that straight.) But all our work and effort has paid off beautifully and this baby is a dream to put down. Just a little bit of holding for a nap, and for bedtime, you can pretty much just drop him in the crib after he is calmed down and he will just fall asleep 100% on his own. Pretty bomb.

~His amazing ability to make everyone around him happy. I don't know if I have ever seen a baby that has quite this level of therapeutic capabilities. I mean, many people like holding babies. And a lot of people smile instinctively whenever they see one. But this boy, he just seems to bring people joy. Pure joy. He is so generous with his smiles and laughter that he puts people at ease. He helps people feel better when they are having a bad day. I have a therapy baby.

~The cuteness. Seriously. It is just too much:

Now, the thing that is not-so-great about James. Yes, I said the thing. As in singular. As in, I have had one bane to my existence for the last seven-and-a-half months, but, thankfully, only one. Sleeping. Yes, I realize I previously stated that this baby went down easily. Which he does, and has done so relatively well for several months. It is the staying asleep. I think we had about three months of normal, consistently getting better sleep habits. I daresay that we even had a few seven or eight hour stretches there. Before things got bad. Really bad. Like, what-the-crap-is-wrong-with-this-baby bad.

It just started one night. Just totally out of the blue, no warning. He woke up. So I went in and put him back down.

And he was up again an hour later. And an hour later. Every hour.

All night long. And it just kept going.

Every night. For months. And months.

Until I though my brains might explode out of my head from exhaustion and frustration and fatigue and desperation and all of those terrible, awful emotions that exist in so many mothers. The emotions that make you feel so guilty for feeling them, because they are about a small, helpless child that, despite all the awful things that happen, you still love so much, somehow.

So, I say that it continued for a very long time, but it did gradually get better. Bit by bit. I mean, in the grand scheme of things. I could look back on a week of his nights and see no improvement, but over the course of a month, there was a general ease of the exhaustion. It got easier for him to go back down at night. And it happened (maybe a little bit) less often.

But of course, this bane of my existance could not be a complete bane without disruption in all facets of his sleep. So about a month to a month and a half after the sleepless nights came, so did the sleepless days. Again, I am not referring to difficulty in putting him down. The ease in putting him down for naps has been consistent for a very long time.

I am talking about the 45-minute intruder. And intruder is the nicest term I can think of because it really deserves a lot more vicious label. Because it is a life-ruining monster of death and destruction.

Basically, it goes like this. James goes down for a nap (any nap, it doesn't matter). Then I go down for my nap (because let's not forget his night time sleeping is still awful and I am still tired, too). Then, right around 40-45 minutes into the nap, he just inexplicably wakes up. Sometimes he would be chatty and happy, sometimes it was like someone flicked him and he was very unhappy. Either way, it would always result in an overtired, unhappy baby and an overtired, unhappy mama.

I half-heartedly fought the battle to try to get him to go back to sleep. This was hell on earth. Sometimes I would be in his room for an hour and a half, just trying to get him to sleep, or stay asleep longer than five minutes, just to run out of time for a nap and have to get him up to feed him. Ugh, I shudder to remember those dark days. Worst.

Fortunately, we are at a happy place now. The best possible thing I did for his night-time sleep was stop feeding him in the night. I don't think I could have done it any earlier than when I did, because he was still taking a generous feed until we started him on solids at six months. Then he didn't seem to be eating much in the middle of the night. When I cut him off, he had a couple nights of a lot of waking up, but then he snapped right out of it and it became the norm to just have him wake up once or twice and just need a binky and a pat on the chest, then off again to dreamland.

The naps drastically improved after we dropped the third nap of the day. Again, I don't know how I could have made that work any sooner. We started doing that after his solid meals were getting enough inside him (instead of just on his face) that he was getting enough to make whole meals out of solids and not a combination breastfeed/solid feed.

Now he is pretty reliable. We even got to the point, after much trying and crying (me crying, not him) that he goes back down for naps pretty easily if we wakes up too early.

So, yeah, a little rant about the most difficult thing about James. But things are pretty good now. I will continue talking about things being good in the next post :)

Catching up . . .

It has been almost nine months since I last posted something on this blog. An ironic length of time, considering the biggest reason I have been too distracted to write anything. Baby James is almost eight months old now. There were many times that I wanted to sit down and write something about being a new mom, but I just didn't have the time. Or the energy. Or the ability to recall a list of things I'd like to do.

So, I think I am about to do some catching up. Post about some things I have been thinking about in the past eight months. Sadly, no birth story. Although I enjoy reading other people's birth stories, I think that eight months past the birth is a little outdated to post something about it. Also, I kind of like the idea of keeping it off the Internet and in my close-knit family circle. Which is where it probably belongs anyway.

Being a woman . . .

Let me start out by saying that I am not a feminist. There are very few points from the feminist viewpoint that I agree with, and generally I feel like their approach to the world is not how I would go about doing things. But we do have one common opinion: I hate chauvinists. Any man who thinks he is metaphorically bigger and badder than a woman can only hope he can remain so blissfully buried in self-delusion because it takes a hero to navigate being a woman successfully.

More than anything right now I am thinking about surviving life within this womanly body of mine. It is difficult. We can skip over all the fun stuff a female deals with during the maturing years and just go straight to being an adult. It is still difficult. I am so sick of hearing about how "emotional" women are. This tagline comes with the connotation that there is something I can do about it. There is not. A better term would be "hormonal," as my body is so full of raging hormones that may never be totally harmonious with one another and I am occasionally at the mercy of said hormones. (Granted, my husband is at the mercy of me when I am at the mercy of my hormones, so really everyone suffers.) Growing up in a family that didn't excel in showing healthy emotions, I can tell you that it is an extremely frustrating thing to feel like my emotions are out of control. I hate that every once in a while, I just plain feel like crying. I can't identify a reason; there is no problem solving I can do to make it go away. I must cry. And not only do these feelings exist inside of me, but I must also continue to live my life as normal while doing so. Speaking from the perspective of society, crying is bad, but working and being productive are good. So onward I must press.

I am also thinking about another biologically-based aspect of womanhood that does not get the recognition it deserves: pregnancy. Yes, some men do applaud their wives for the "great miracle" of being able to create life. It is amazing, but beyond that, it can be very difficult. Most women experience some degree of misery during their pregnancies. Most women will tell you how ill they were during their first trimester. I was very fortunate in having a relatively smooth first trimester, but right now I am in the throes of my third trimester. And it sucks. I can't sleep. I can only eat a little, but everything gives me heartburn and the thought makes all food sound terrible. Sitting, lying, and standing are all uncomfortable. My feet swell so bad that my ankles cease to function properly. My back kills from holding my massive frontside. I feel winded all the time because my lungs are smashed. Basically, I don't feel good. 100% of the time, I don't feel good. But, again, I am expected to work and function and get ready for baby. Straight up misery. And I haven't even gone through childbirth yet . . .

Basically, any man who thinks he is "strong" because he can bench press a cow or whatever can kiss mine. You don't know what strong is. You don't know what it's like to live inside this body.

Speaking of this body, I have destroyed it. Over the course of nine short months, my body is stretched, distorted, and completed sacrificed to the developing of my baby. And yes, my "hot" body is now gone. Forget bikinis, forget lingerie, I will never look good in any of them again. I built a human being inside me, and I have paid the price of forever being condemned as "ugly" by the world. Even after I lose the weight, my stretch marks and saggy boobs will remain. So I am sorry, men of the world, that I don't appeal to your tastes any longer. But I brought a life into this world, and the vehicle that brought it here will always show signs of the journey.

So there is my rant. I am tired of being considered weak. I am tired of being seen as pathetic and helpless. I have been brought here to complete tasks that a man can't, and I am proud that I was strong enough to do it.

One year . . .

I was just thinking about how different my life is than how I thought it would have turned out one year ago. Last May, I had just graduated with my Bachelor's, Jacob was done with sitting-in-a-classroom schooling and was preparing to student teach, and we were both working the same jobs we had been working since before we were married.

We were looking into graduate schools, trying to decide where we could both go, and if we could both go. Although our program choices had changed since the previous year, we were both sure that we would both be applying shortly for Fall 2013 enrollment. I signed up to take the GRE and enrolled in an online class to meet a requirement for admissions.

At the end of summer, we got our first surprise. Jacob's choice of grad program, education, would not accept applicants who did not have a Level 3 teaching license, i.e. the license you get after teaching professionally for three years. Sooooo, Jacob can't go to grad school until he gets a job. Okay, we can deal with that.

Second surprise: I felt terrible about applying for grad school. By September, I had taken the GRE, was almost halfway done with my online class, and had printed out the requirements to apply to my dream program: Master's of Social Work at BYU. And I couldn't get anything done on it. There was so much doubt about how in the world Jacob was going to get three years of teaching done in a very specialized program with few job openings if we set ourselves up for going to one place. My immobilization turned into complete disinterest and finally we agreed that I would skip applying for yet another year.

Third surprise: Jacob gets a job. Not only did Jacob get a job, but he got a full time job in his field TWO DAYS after he finished student teaching. They basically head hunted him for it, and within a month's time, we had gone from not knowing what the crap was going to happen to with our futures to having one pretty much handed to us. The only catch was that he had to do such a bang-up job and get so many students interested in taking German that they wouldn't cut the program come spring. Okay, some direction. Finally.

Fourth surprise: We get pregnant. The decision to try to get pregnant is totally personal and complicated and anyone who thinks I give a crap about their input on our decision to start our family can kiss mine. But I have to admit that it was kind of a whirlwind chain of events that lead us to make the decision, and I second-guessed myself more than once. Once again, our lives changes dramatically in a very short amount of time. It kind of made sense - Jacob would hopefully be able to keep his job for many years to come and that was more important than me going to graduate school immediately. Still, it was only a few weeks where we went from "I have no idea to when we will start our family" to "We're starting our family." That mind-blowing decision was only intensified when it took us a shockingly short amount of time to get pregnant. And just like that, over the course of a few short months, our futures had changed again.

Fifth surprise: They're cutting Jacob's program. This was a heartbreaking week. When Jacob got the news that they would be cutting German, we both spent the whole week in a kind of distant fog, a little on the verge of tears. It was a little bit of a slap in the face, to get pregnant and almost immediately find out that we have no income prospects for the upcoming year. We were both thinking, "What are we supposed to do now?" but talking about it was too uncomfortable and raw to really get anywhere. (Let me add that it was not due to Jacob that the program was being cut. Jacob did an amazing job getting students talking about how fun German was, and students were dropping French and Spanish to take it. With only around 100 student currently enrolled, he had 167 sign up for next year's program, more than enough for a full-time teacher. The program was that with Canyon View's overall enrollment dropping, the state would only allot a certain number of teachers they would pay for. With Jacob being a long-term sub and every other teacher being a contracted teacher with the intent to return next year, Jacob made the most fiscal sense to cut.)

Sixth surprise: They're not cutting Jacob's program. After we talked about it and decided that staying in Cedar and having the baby here was a better option than moving to Virginia or somewhere crazy far away where they were actually hiring a full-time German teacher, Jacob went to his boss and let him know that if they were to offer German part-time, he would be willing to stay. It only took a couple of days for the news to come that they would offer German part-time. Mostly due to some extra funds that the school was able to secure, but I think in part due to the fact that they knew they would have an applicant for the position. And so our life is set a stir again. We will [hopefully] have a job, but it won't be much, and there won't be benefits. Something we can work with. We're very good on living on a tight budget.

The seventh event was not so much a surprise as it was a confirmation that we were going in the right direction. Jacob got the part-time German job. Against one other applicant, but still. It's the best news we've gotten since we found out we were expecting.

So we are now at a place very different from where I had imagined we would be. I thought this summer would be spent scoping out apartments in the city of one of our grad program's schools, packing up our crap and hitting the books this fall. How very wrong I was. Instead, we will be prepping for a baby, living as cheaply as we can, and praying that Jacob's program can go full-time as soon as possible. Crazy how life throws us around and puts us where we need to be.

A follow up . . .

Wow. That last post was pretty depressing. I have to admit I was in the gall of bitterness at that point. Not all days leave me feeling that bad, but one or two days a week, it really gets to me. I admit it, life is not amazing right now. Working 50 hours a week, every week, freaking sucks. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays usually consist of 12 - 14 hours of work. It's gotten pretty bad.

I have always known that my personality is not the type that does "all day, everyday" very well. I really can't handle doing one thing all day. This includes working. I get pretty down when the only thing I do during my waking hours is working, or, in a slight variation, going to and coming from work. It gets to me when I have those 8:30am-11:30pm work days (okay, I had an hour break, but still).

But I am feeling a lot better today. It is General Conference in my church, and, fortunately, I made it a priority to squeeze that into another work day. President Dieter F. Uchtdorf is so great. He has the tendency to speak to things that I really need to hear. Today was especially pertinent. He talked about making time for the important things in life, not whittling away all the time doing things that don't do you any good in the eternal scheme of things.

I realize that this is not happening too often in my life these days. Sometimes I see Jacob awake for half and hour the entire day. And while so much of that seems like it is out of control, it kind of isn't. I have a serious problem always saying "yes" to people. "Can you cover my shift?" "Can you handle that many hours?" "Can you come in early?" Yes. Yes. Yes. WHY? Just because I can doesn't mean I should. In fact, just because I can doesn't even mean it is in my best interest to do so. The physiological effects of my work schedule is becoming more and more evident everyday. How so? By all the stupid things I do and say that my brain wouldn't do if I had gotten enough rest! It needs to stop. I need to start saying no.

The second point that came up during President Uchtdorf's talk was that we need to be happy, no matter our circumstances. This was so good for me to hear (and my husband was totally like, "See? I've been telling you that the whole time!") because I have been the queen of complaining lately. Everyday I count up how many hours I am working and boo and whine about how much it is. It. Needs. To. Stop.

I have so much to be grateful for. I have such an amazing family. Especially my husband, who has been so patient with me lately and has been so loving, despite the minimal amount of time we see each other. I had the rare opportunity to be with my parents, brother, sister-in-law, nephew, and niece yesterday. It was so great. I am so lucky to have such a great family. We have so many blessings in our lives. We have food in our fridge, an apartment to live in, cars that run, bodies that stay healthy (even when we aren't giving them all the sleep and rest they need), and so many other things that many people in the world go without. Even the very thing I complain about the most, work, is a blessing. How lucky am I that I have two jobs?! Some people can't even get one!

So I am going to try to be better. President Uchtdorf, you really inspired me to try to make some changes. I think they will make me better, they will definitely make my life easier.

So here are my goals:

1. Stop saying yes to everything. Say no to people. They are not your responsibility.

2. Spend more time with family. 

3. Be happier. Appreciate everything you have.

4. Stop complaining (so much). 
This will be the difficult part.

Hoping for a better week next week! And so excited to have Sunday off tomorrow.

It gets better . . .

I can't sleep. I slept in too long this morning to go to sleep by midnight. But I also have something on my mind. Something I would like to talk about with someone, but no one has the time to hear it. Nor is it something enjoyable to hear.

What happened to my life? I don't even feel like I am living one right now. I am just drearily moving on from one day to another, one task to the next. I don't think I could remember how to have fun if I even had the time to try. Everyday is just wholly consumed with work. Since I got my second job, I have worked more 50 hour weeks than not. I just get up in the morning, go to work, work all day long, then come home and do nothing because I am too freaking tired to do anything else or because it's midnight and Jacob wants to go to bed. 

I thought these were supposed to be he best years of my life. I thought I was supposed to spend every waking second with my husband just consumed in lovey dovey bliss and live a life of absolute carefree joy until we decided to grow up and have kids. What a load of nonsense that is. Every passing moment just seems to get busier than the last. There is so much to do; I am barely keeping my head above water.

I am totally at a loss as to what to do. I can't quit one of my jobs, and Jacob can't just stop student teaching. And unless he can find a new job in this terrible economy, he is just going to keep working those same horrendous hours at the restaurant.

I realize people go through rough patches. I realize that people get busy. But does it ever get better? I don't hear of people getting less busy. I just so desperately hope that there is something more fulfilling out there than this. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life just completing tasks on a checklist like I do now. My whole brain is consumed with thoughts of the next shift and the next work project, I never think about anything else. I don't know how much longer I can live like this. I feel so unfulfilled my life is just a meaningless list of tasks with no pleasure and no enjoyment. And I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel assuring me that it's going to get better. I wish I had something like that to look forward to, but, to be honest, I don't have anything to look forward to in my life right now.

Sonething's gotta give. I can't live this life anymore.

I am 22 . . .

So. What.

I think we have a problem here in Utah. Everybody wants to get everything done so quickly. Married at 19. Baby at 20. Another baby at 21. What is with that? Oh, and graduating in 2 years so you can have your degree. What is with the Mormon women and having to get life started so dang soon. I feel like everyone is just making plans and hurrying to get things done so quickly. Why? Because you have to have 10 kids before you hit 35?

I hate that everyone is pressuring me to have a baby. Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby. Could someone please talk to me about something other than a baby? If they are not talking to me about a baby, it's about grad school. I have had my Bachelor's for two months, and it is officially time to go to grad school. Get my butt to grad school. People always seem so condescending when I tell them I am taking a year off. Like, oh, you're going to work for a year? At your minimum wage jobs? Ugh. How pathetic.

What's wrong with taking my time with my life? Why do I have to have a family by the time I'm 23? Just because I'm LDS doesn't mean I want to pop out babies for the rest of my days. Maybe I want to experience life before I settle down completely. Maybe I want to take things slower so I don't have a nervous breakdown in grad school.

I will do it my way, thank you very much. I'll get there when I get there.

Epic end to an even more epic decade . . . (Tribute to Thrice)

About a month ago I went to my final Thrice concert. It was their Farewell tour, they are basically done being full-time touring musicians. I still have hope that they might make more music one day, but there's definitely no guarantee.

Basically, this was the greatest concert I've ever been to, in my short life of concert attendance. Such a good crowd as far as participation goes. I was a little bit out of the heat of it because we went upstairs on the balcony, but it was still a phenomenal experience. Not being in the middle of the crazy moshers gave me a chance to just sit back and listen when I really just wanted to savor the minute, instead of jump around a punch dance like everyone else. Truly, it was musical perfection.

Since the concert, I basically have felt like listening to only Thrice. I will turn on something else, but it will only take a matter of minutes before I start thinking about a Thrice song I would rather be listening to. This is the band that has ruined all other music for me.

You (as in the one reader I get a year with this blog) may be thinking to yourself, "What's so great about this band I've never heard of?" Well sir/ma'am, let me tell you why they are so friggin good and I could not possibly ever have another favorite band.

Mostly, it's Dustin. Don't tell my husband, but I basically love this man. He is truly amazing. If Dustin writes it, it is pure lyrical gold. I will give you some examples:

"The lesson you'd do well not to forget
Your life could be the one it's wisdom saves
At sea, where you're beleaguered and beset
On every side by strife of wind and waves
Despite the best of maps and the bravest men
For all their mighty names and massive forms
There'll never be and has never been
A ship of fleet secure against the storms.

When kings upon the main have clung to pride
And held themselves to masters of the sea
I've held them down beneath the crushing tide
Til they have learned that no one masters me.

But grace can still be found within the gale
And fear and reverence, raise your ragged sail."

-King Upon the Main

 Not convinced? Okay, we'll keep going.

"I've never been this cold, the fire's gravity compels
Like planets cling to sol, I feel my orbit start to fail
Like moths to flame I come, too close and all my oaths are burned
As star begin to run, all my accusers take their turn
And calling curses down, from my lips lies like poison spill
And then that awful sound, the sound of prophesy fulfilled
And then I met your eyes, and I remember everything
And something in me dies, the night that I betrayed my King." 

-from Like Moths to Flame

And there is so much more where that came from. He is so brilliant, I hope his pursuits now that he is not a frontman take him to the world of literature because I love reading everything he writes. He's capable of saying so much with so little:

"Tell me are you free
While the gallows stand
And bullets lance the bravest lungs
Will I fold my hands or hold my tongue
Or let the flames lick at my feet
Or breathe in fire and know I'm free
Flames will rise and devour me
Oh, to breathe in fire and know I'm free."

-from Firebreather

The second song example is also the second reason why I love this band so much. What other band could scream and make me feel reverent. NONE! I love that Dustin is so religious and his lyrics reflect that. I really do feel closer to God while listening to certain songs. Take this one for example (one of my all-time favorites):

"All you great men of power, you who boast of your feats
Politicians and entrepeneurs
Can you safeguard your breath in the night while you sleep?
Keep your heart beating steady and sure?
As you lie in your bed, does the thought haunt your head that you're really rather small?
If there's one thing I know in this life, we are beggars all.

All you champions of science and rulers of men
Can you summon the sun from its sleep?
Does the earth seek your counsel on how fast to spin?
Can you shut up the gates of the deep?
Don't you know that all things hang as if my a string over the darkness, poised to fall?
If there's one thing I know in this life, we are beggars all.

All you big shots that swagger and stride with conceit
Did you devise how your frame would be formed?
If you'd be raised in a palace or live out on the streets,
Choose the place or the hour you'd be born?
Tell me what can you claim? Not a thing, not your name!
Tell me if you can recall just one thing not a gift in this life
Can you hear what's been said?
Can you see now that everything's grace, after all?
If there's one thing I know in this life, we are beggars all."

-Beggars

Now if that doesn't convince you that they are amazing, I don't know what will, but I will keep going nonetheless. The next reason for loving this band can be summed up in one word: Teppai. This guy is so amazing. Not only does he shred like its nobody's business, but he just oozes style and awesomeness. I love seeing him live, he just grooves around the stage like he's in his room playing by himself.

Another thing I really, really adore about this band is their musical diversity. Album after album, I never get bored. There is something for every mood I am in. Feeling like head banging like a crazy person? Listen to The Illusion of Safety or Artist in the Ambulance. Feeling like getting deeply introspective? Vheissu or The Alchemy Index. Just chilling? Beggars. And if you ever need to get seriously pumped up, one word: Firebreather. I wish so much I had known about these guys when I was playing volleyball. It would have gotten me much more riled than any of that hip-hop nonsense we played during warm-ups.

I thing the last thing I have to say is that it just doesn't get any better. I can't explain it. I've just never listened to anything this good. And in some cases, I've never listened to anything so beautiful. I think this is exemplified best in this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvYmxHN4z7k

So there's my long-winded tribute to Thrice. Hopefully, someone will listen to my constant pleadings and give them a try. But if not, I'll just keep my wonderful little secret hidden from at large and know that it doesn't get any better than this.

Lyricist . . .

Rhetoric can't raise the dead
I'm sick of always talking when there's no change
Rhetoric can't raise the dead
I'm sick of empty words
Let's lead
Not follow

Late night
Brakes lock
Hear the tires squeal
Red light
Can't stop
So I spin the wheel
My world goes black
Before I feel an angel
Steal me from the greedy jaws of death and chance
And pull me in with steady hands
Giving me a second chance
The artist in the ambulance

Permanence . . .

I am not sure if there is such a thing as permanence. Sure, we have the word, the meaning, and the usage, but I don't believe in it. What in this world is really permanent? Yes, I have always had this body, this brain, this soul, but it has changed so much over these past 22 years that I have serious doubts over whether any of it could really be considered "the same."

You can build anything up and break it all down the next day. What in this world is not perpetually changing? Becoming older never ceases. Even bones grow older, whiter, and more brittle in the sun as the years go on.

Nothing is ever as it was.

Prayer . . .

. . . Is the most amazing resource I have been given on this earth. How in the world could I survive this life without a constant lifeline to the only one who really knows what is best. I feel so bad for people who don't think they can pray. I wish they knew what kind of power lie in prayer. I stop and pray so much throughout the day. Random times, for random reasons. When I don't know what to do. When I am upset. When I am amazed at a new blessing. When I am amazed at an old blessing. When I start worrying about the future. Every little thing. I trace it back to God. He blesses me immensely. He shows me the way. And when I follow his way, it always turns out for the best.

My testimony of the Gospel is so deeply rooted in prayer that whenever I am struggling with any other Gospel topic, that is what I turn to. Give me knowledge of this that I may believe. And it helps so much.

The best time to pray is in the temple. The temple has weeded out so many distractions and it does so much in keeping Satan away that is it the best place for the companion of prayer to come. Revelation. God answers the prayers of His children. Especially in the temple. But He also answers the prayers of His children in his own time and in his own way. Sometimes that way is not the way we would have it. But learning to accept revelation only strengthens your relationship with the one who gave it to you.

I am so grateful that I have this tool. This invaluable resource to help me through this life. It can be an incredibly difficult life, and I am so glad that I have an omniscient Father to guide me and make things easier.