We're All Just People

Being a victim is weird. I mean, obviously it sucks. Lots. If you're a victim of something, then your world probably just fell apart.

But it's more than that. Being a victim means that you get sucked into this alternate reality where things that only happen to people in TV shows are happening to you, but none of it is the way that you think.

On TV you don't really see the police and lawyers and journalists as people. They are all just pieces in the whole crime/judgement puzzle. But I see them. I see them as people doing their jobs. And they're not easy jobs.

The first time I saw this was actually on my mission. I was a witness in a hostage case (sounds a lot more intense than it really was. I mean, it definitely was intense, but not in the way that you think). I had to go to court to testify against a man that I had previously taught because he had taken his less active ex-girlfriend hostage. The woman and I arrive at the courthouse, dreading what we were called there to do. We go sit down and there is this surreal duality in the room. Those sitting where we were were all very solemn. Those on the other side of the little wall thing were laughing and talking, just going about their jobs. It was very odd.

Flash forward a couple of years to this January. Two detectives knock on my door and my fiance is conspicuously not with them. From the moment I answered the door I knew what they were going to say. But they sat me down and told me and I could tell that they hated it. They hated having to tell a young college girl that her fiance had betrayed her in such a big way. They hated watching me sit there crying. At one point I asked one of them if he could give me a hug. His expression immediately softened and he said of course. And so I hugged this huge, super tall detective and cried on him. And in that moment he wasn't this big scary detective. He was just a person helping another person through a hard time.

Forward some more. I'm sitting on the same couch that I had been on when the detectives talked to me. This time there are two journalists sitting in front of me. Before they hit record they express sympathy. I can tell that they feel bad for me. They feel bad that they are about to ask me questions that will drudge everything up. They are extremely kind and considerate. As they interview me, they are not pushy at all. I am free to decline answering a question if I want to. After the interview they told me to let them know if they could do anything for me. They weren't talking about the article that time. They kept in touch throughout the editing process so that I knew what was going on and sent me as much information as they were able. They were people doing their jobs, but doing them in a way that they helped me to feel as comfortable with the process as possible.

Over the next few months I am in fairly constant contact with the detective on point in this case. Texting him as weird things are happening. Like getting at least one friend request every day from single men who made a Facebook, added a profile and cover photo, and then added me. No other friends, no other photos. Or when I got some kind of roundabout contact from my ex. Any time I had a question, I could trust that the detective would do his best to help me out. And in those moments he would try to soothe my concerns and instill confidence that he was doing everything that he could to get to the bottom of everything.

I also am getting calls from the prosecutor's office. I basically had a mini panic attack every time my phone rang and I looked down to see "Prosecutors" on the screen. Eventually it became fairly commonplace for me, especially if some sort of court proceeding was coming up. Talking to my sister on the phone "hang on, the prosecutor's office is calling, let me call you back." Every conversation with them made me emotional. It must suck to be them. They probably make people sad a lot and have to listen to people's voices crack.

Forward some more. I'm standing outside the courtroom, probably crying already. The journalist asks if I would be willing to talk to her after the pre-trial. I say maybe, we'll just have to see. I sob through the whole thing. She doesn't even try to talk to me after it's over. She knew that I wasn't up to talking, so she didn't even ask.

During the pre-trial the prosecuting attorney pulled me out of the courtroom a couple of times to talk to me. He wanted to see how I felt about what he was thinking of proposing to the court. He kept me very included. He also told me that his sister actually knows me. She was a sister missionary in my ward for about a year in Maryland when I was maybe 10. He told me that she called him a couple of times sobbing. He also told me to let him know if there is anything that he can do for me. He wanted to make sure that I was doing the best that I could be in such an awful situation.

A while later I'm heading into the I-Center because I'm singing in devotional. Lo and behold, there's the detective. I stop and say hello. He was there on security detail. He asks how I'm doing and we chat a bit. I ask him about my digital camera that was still in evidence (it was in my ex's apartment. When they described all of the cameras to me, I realized that they had my mission camera. I didn't give it to me ex, but I have a vague idea of why he had it). He told me that he would bring it to me later and to just text him when I got home after devo. He wished me luck and I went in.

That was one of those moments where I was just like "when did my life become so weird?" I shouldn't be able to just recognize a detective on sight and pleasantly chat with him about getting my own property out of evidence. But I can and I did.

He stopped by my apartment later and handed me a plastic evidence bag with my camera in it along with a release form that I had to sign.

Every time I've had to talk to the detective, or the lawyer, or the journalist, they always ask how I'm holding up. They do this because they are people too. They have lives and families. They do their jobs just like everyone else. And yet they receive so much hate much of the time.

I've actually become friends with the journalist and she has helped me to see that I'm really not your typical, well, anything in this situation. She's worked on court cases before and she told me that pretty much anyone else in a situation like mine would be calling for blood or else be in jail also because they murdered the perpetrator. But I forgave mine. All I wanted was for him to receive the sentence that would best help him to overcome whatever demons are haunting him. If that means jail time, okay. If he only needs probation, great! But I trusted in the court system to make that decision because I am inside the case and know how hard everyone has been working.

The journalist also told me that I should hate her. That's generally how it goes. She's the heartless journalist who exploits the most devastating parts of people's lives. But... She's not. She's covering a news story because that's her job. And she has been extremely sweet and respectful through the whole thing and has tried really hard to listen to my input as much as she can. But that's not how most people see her. To them she's just a nosy reporter whose main goal is to ruin their lives.

It's interesting to me that society today seems to be all about individuality and equality and not being judgmental and somehow that mindset has made us demand more conformity, less equality, and made us super judgey (hmm, that's a stupid word to spell. Not a real word, but everyone says it). Because we only appreciate individuals who are individual the way that WE are individual. And equality seems to often mean demeaning people's strengths and talents because they conform with stereotypes. And how dare someone judge us even though we're freaking judging everyone else!

I wish that we could strip all of that away and see that we're all people. Girls are people and boys are people and gays are people and Muslims are people and blacks, whites, Asians, Hispanics, etc are people and democrats are people and so are republicans. And lawyers are people and judges are people and journalists are people. We're all people trying to live our lives the best way that we know how. We all have different strengths and weaknesses and those are not tethered to any cultural, religious, or political stereotypes. Yes, some women like to be in the workplace. But some like to stay at home with their children. To each their own. And yes, a lot of Asians are super smart, but some of them aren't. And the same goes for blacks, whites, Polynesians, etc.

Muslim doesn't equal terrorist and Black doesn't equal ignorance and Boy doesn't equal beer and cars. Sometimes it does. But sometimes it doesn't.

And journalist doesn't equal heartless paparazzi and lawyer doesn't equal corrupt. Sometimes it does, but sometimes it doesn't.

I have been blessed to have so many amazing people working on this case. I know that not every victim is as lucky as I have been. I have been working with very considerate people who really just want the best for me and my ex and hope that I'll make it out of this whole mess as unscathed as possible. And that is so incredible and I appreciate it so much. Because this is hard. It really, truly is. I almost started crying at the grocery store today because I had to ask the pharmacy for documentation of prescriptions that I have filled since my ex's arrest so that I can turn it in to the prosecutor's office for restitution. Because this has effected every aspect of my life and the government that everyone hates is doing all that it can to soften the blows.

So can we please stop judging people by who we think that they are? Can we please look at people and see them for who they really are? People. People with jobs, lives, trials, emotions. Not everyone that you think should be actually is out to get you. Sometimes your waitress makes a mistake not because she's trying to make your life miserable, but because she's human and probably exhausted from being on her feet all day. Sometimes the cashier has to say no because of a policy, not because they're trying to being difficult. Sometimes the detective really cares about you as a person and wants to see you move on with your life and be happy. And sometimes the prosecuting attorney really is trying to help the defendant to get the help that he needs rather than slamming him with the worst punishment that he can think of.

I'm glad that I seem to be atypical. I'm glad that I really do try to see the best in people and give them the benefit of the doubt. Because it's much more fun to be kind to people than to hate them on principle. I would have missed out on a great friend if I had done that. It's just not worth the time to get frustrated at everyone who does something that you disagree with. Unless they are effecting you in a permanent way, just let them be. You don't know how their day has been or what they might be struggling with. They've had different life experiences than you. They ARE different than you. But they're really not. Because you're a person and so are they. And if you look at them with an eternal lens, you'll see a brother or sister giving this life their best shot. Just like you are.

Let Me Help You (Even Though I Don't Know How to Help Myself)

It is 3:14 AM right now and I should be sleeping but I feel like I need to write something. Not totally sure what.

So I guess I'll just tell you how I'm feeling right now and see where this goes.

I finally registered for classes and it was the most frustrating registration I've experienced I think. I have no idea what I'm doing guys. Registering for classes shouldn't be this stressful, but I can feel the anxiety bubbling up inside of me and it frustrates me. I couldn't bring myself to sign up for any 7:45 classes because I'm terrified of missing all of them because I can't seem to get myself up that early without feeling sick (or get to bed early enough to reasonably get up that early). I'm on the wait list for a 9 AM class and even that scares me.

This is the most frustrating thing about this whole dang situation that I've found myself in this year. I really think it is. The most frustrating thing about this is that I keep comparing myself to what I call "last Spring semester Anna."

Last Spring semester I was taking 13 credits, working 20 hours a week, working at the temple, volunteering, and maintaining a long-distance relationship, meaning that I got about four hours of sleep a night because Skyping cut in to sleep time but I couldn't do it earlier without cutting in to homework time. Plus he was usually still at work until late anyway. Especially since he was two hours behind me.

And then I got in a bike accident and sprained my wrist, bruised my ribs (Holy Hannah that hurts), got whiplash, and bruised a couple of other bones as well.

And I still did everything that I was doing AND added physical therapy and doctor's appointments on top of it all.

It was stressful, I was tired, I was in pain, but I did it. And it was a great semester! I felt like I was really becoming who I wanted to be.

This Spring semester I'm taking two credits. I lost my job. I struggle to eat and sleep normally. I am pretty much terrified of dating at the moment. Basically I'm a mess. And it sucks. It really does.

But here's the thing. Last Spring semester Anna hadn't been to hell and back like I have. She wasn't dealing with depression (at least not as bad) and PTSD. She also wasn't helping nearly as many people as I have somehow managed to this semester.

And that makes this all worth it.

Wow. Writing that just made it so much more real.

Last Spring semester I was doing a lot. And I was doing a lot of good. But I've helped more people over the last few months than I have pretty much the rest of my life altogether. That's a pretty big statement, especially because I've always loved helping people, but I actually think that it's true.

You see, I've become "famous" in a sense this year. (There's no way I would have as many views on my brand new blog as I've had otherwise). I always say that I became "famous" for the worst possible reason (AKA- being the victim of a felony committed by the man that I loved). But I'm realizing that that's not the real reason.

The real reason that people have heard of me is because I stuck with the gospel to an extreme that many people may have failed to do in my situation. When faced with the worst thing that has ever happened to me at the hand of another, I chose to forgive instead of hate. When I heard that people were leaving nasty comments under the news article about my ex-fiance's arrest, something in me snapped. I knew that I needed to speak up. And so I did. I wrote this big long comment all about how he should be given the same opportunity to repent as anyone else. If Alma and the sons of Mosiah (the VILEST of sinners) could be forgiven, then why not my ex?

Man oh man I got so much backlash from what I said. All of a sudden the angry comments were directed at me. All of a sudden I was the one getting hate, which, let me tell you, is definitely NOT what I needed at the moment. I was already in the pits and those comments would have pushed me deeper in if they hadn't given me this drive to make a difference instead.

All of the angry people were very public about what they thought of me. (After a couple of days I stopped looking at the comments). But on the sidelines, I started to get message request after message request on my Facebook Messenger. For a while I was getting one every few hours. And every single message was positive. Every single one was from someone who thanked me for what I said. People who told me that they were crying for blood too until they saw my comment. That I reminded them of the power of the Atonement and that they thought that it was amazing that I was able to forgive so quickly.

Because of all of those amazing people, I haven't stopped talking. I continue to talk about this whole thing because I want to help more people. I don't want to be "famous"- it's not easy re-hashing my life's problems over and over again -but I do want to be helpful. I want to help people who are struggling. People who need help forgiving. People who are suffering from an addiction to pornography, first or second hand. I just really want to help people to be happy and come closer to our Heavenly Father. And that's what keeps me going.

Because it's easy to feel despair when I compare myself to who I was. Before all of this, when I would compare myself to who I used to be, I was definitely doing SO much better now. But now it's hard to feel that way. It's hard to not feel like I'm less of a person than I was this time last year. It really, truly is.

But if I can help people in a way that I couldn't before, then I can handle being less in some ways so that I can be more in others. Because I am more now. I am more compassionate. I am more patient with others. I am more experienced. I have been through so much in these last few months and it has shaped me into someone who understands a lot more. And when I understand more about the world, I understand more about others. And the more that I understand others, the more I can help them.

I went to a forum on campus last week about pornography. I sat in the back and tried to hold in tears for much of it. I prayed to know if I should share anything. One student asked the teacher what he should say to people who don't think that pornography is a big deal. People who don't think that it's an addiction or really harmful at all. I felt like I should speak up but I didn't. At least, not until the very end.

I was the very last comment. I basically just restated that previous student's question and then told the class that if they have friends who don't think that pornography is a big deal, then they can feel free to share my story. I told them that what my fiance did and about how it all started with a pornography addiction. He didn't just wake up one day and decide to commit a felony. No, it all started with porn. Porn that turned into addiction. Addiction that turned into criminal activity and heartbreak.

When the forum was over, a few girls came to the back and talked to me. I was crying and would have been happy to leave and sob in solitude, but I answered their questions and talked to them about the importance of using our experiences to help other people. They told me that they were so impressed that I was brave enough to go to the forum even though it must have been really hard (which it was) and that it was even more courageous that I was willing to share my experience with others. At least one of them had heard of me previously and she told me that she was really impressed with how I've been handling this whole thing.

It's funny to me how people are inspired by me. I feel like I'm just a total mess. But that's the thing. People who inspire us are not inspiring because their lives have been a breeze. No, they are inspiring because their lives have been extremely difficult. Because their lives were full of trials. And because they overcame them. And they talked about them. That's how inspirational people are made folks. They go through lots of crap and then relive that crap over and over again for the sake of helping other people with their crap.

So there it is.

Honestly, I don't really know what I'm doing with my life right now. But I know that Heavenly Father knows what I need to be doing, and right now, that has to be enough for me. Because I've prayed so many times to be used as an instrument in the Lord's hands and He's sure been using me. This definitely isn't what I had in mind. If it was up to me I wouldn't be suffering all of these things. But that's why I'm glad that it's not up to me. Because if I wasn't suffering what I am right now, then I also wouldn't be helping people. I've been able to touch so many people not only despite my personal struggles, but because of them! Crazy, no?


So no. I'm nothing like Last Spring Semester Anna. And I'm just going to have to be okay with that for now. Because the trade off is worth it. It really, truly is.

If you get anything out of this post at all (besides that I'm crazy and shouldn't be awake right now), I hope that it's this:

Don't compare. We always talk about not comparing ourselves to others, but I'm here to tell you that it is just as bad (if not even more debilitating) to compare yourself to you. You see your struggles. Your weaknesses. Everything that is not cool about you or your life right now. And it makes you miss better days and what seemed to be a better you.

But let me tell you something. Heavenly Father has this incredible ability to take you, as you are right at this moment, and make you into something spectacular if you let Him. He is looking down at you this very second and He sees you. He sees your circumstances and He sees you struggles. But more importantly, He sees your potential. He is saying to you "Don't you see? Because you have gone through/are going through this, you are more. I can see that you are more and I am going to make you even more than that. You are in the perfect position right now to do great things. I know it doesn't feel like it, but I know it. So will you let me make you even more awesome than you already are? Just you wait, it's going to be amazing."

You are doing great. Whoever you are, whatever your circumstance, you're wonderful. You have such a huge capacity to make a difference in someone's life. I don't care if you feel like you can or not because I know that you can. I know because I don't feel like I should be able to make a difference at all, but I have. And I hope to continue doing so. And if I can do it right now when I'm such a wreck, then by golly, you can too!

So keep on keeping on and give Heavenly Father the reins. It's going to be a bumpy ride, but I promise you that it will be oh so worth it.

How to Not Be (Totally, Completely) Miserable When You're Miserable

So I'm at this weird place in my right now where my life isn't awful but really it is and I'm happy but I'm really not and I'm doing a lot but I also don't really do anything.

Confused?

Hey same.

In this post I want to discuss how to find happiness- or sometimes just not-as-miserableness -during the times in your life that just really suck.

So I have depression and PTSD amongst other physical and mental medical issues, which I'm not going to get into right now.

And I'm not going to go super into detail about everything that's been going on in my life right now because I don't need to for this particular post. But let me give you a brief rundown of my life as it is at this moment.

A few months ago I thought that I would have been happily married for three months by now. I was engaged to be married on March 11th to the man that I loved. I had rings, a gorgeous dress, wedding colors and flowers picked out, and wedding planning was under way.

But then in January my fiance was arrested for committing a felony of which I was the primary victim. He had hidden cameras in my bathroom, bedroom, and apparently in various other places when he knew that he could catch me changing or naked.

Needless to say my entire world came crashing down around me.

*From here on out I'm still going to refer to my ex-fiance as "my fiance" because it's easier to write than ex-fiance fifty million times.*

It's been almost exactly five months since that terrible night that all of this came to light and my fiance was whisked away to jail.

I think that it's fair for me to say that the last five months have been... rough. Don't you think so?

But let me tell you something. This is awful and I hate it and I cry a lot and I am struggling deeply with so many things right now. But I laugh and joke and am happy actually quite a lot of the time. A lot more than you would think.

Let me tell you how. I'll start off with some little things and then end with the biggest one.

First of all, I'm the kind of person that makes jokes when things are hard. It's a defense mechanism I guess, but it actually does help. If I can find something the slightest bit funny, or even morbidly humorous, then I snatch it up.

I have a friend that sent me funny memes and videos the week after the arrest because he didn't know what else to do and that honestly helped a ton. Because laughing helps. And it shows me that I'm still me underneath all of this sadness. So now when I'm super struggling, I'll look up funny videos and memes.

Second, I try to stay away from triggers.

I have this memory of a Young Women's leader telling us about a break-up or something that she had. She told us that when she got home, she put on the prettiest dress that she owned and turned on the saddest music that she could find and just had a complete meltdown. She was laughing at the memory by then because it sounds so silly, but we actually do things like that more than we may realize.

It used to be that when I was sad, I would listen to "On My Own" from Les Miserables or "Not That Girl" from Wicked.

Idiot.

The point isn't to make ourselves even more sad! We should be trying to overcome our obstacles. We should be trying to be happy!

I do admit that I listened to Quiet Uptown and Burn from Hamilton quite a bit at the beginning of all of this. My one roommate would always get concerned about me as soon as she heard me listening to either of those two songs.

But since then I have tried to be careful. I try to stay away from doing things that will make me think of my fiance or make me miss having a person or make me sad in any way.

I've asked friends to skip songs on the radio. I've also asked friends if we can watch something lighthearted for movie night. Which could be tricky because even some kids movies have been too sad for me at times. The new Beauty and the Beast is AMAZING. But it also makes me sob like a little baby, especially during the new songs.

I recently made myself a Spotify playlist entitled "Happy." Not all of the songs on there are upbeat and cheerful necessarily, but they're songs that I know are very unlikely to trigger my PTSD. Because when I'm riding my bike, I can't just skip a song if I need to, so I need a list that avoids those songs anyway.

And sometimes I can listen to my regular "Songs" list and be fine. But I've had to learn to recognize when I am emotionally able to handle it and when I'm just not.

I've also deleted some songs that have my fiance's name written all over them. I didn't realize that I still had Out of My League by Stephen Speaks on my phone still until it came on one day. That was our favorite song. (It's an adorable song, you should look it up. Just don't play it around me unless you want me to melt into a crying puddle). I deleted it from my songs altogether.

Some days I just listen to my Sunday playlist all day instead because I can't handle pretty much anything else without starting to cry.

I've also had to convince myself to let go of some things.

For example, my fiance got me a couple of shirts while he was up working in Alaska last summer and I LOVE them. I especially love this black one with the Northern Lights on it. And so I've had it in my suitcase for the last five months. I kept trying to convince myself that maybe (someday) I could wear it without thinking of my fiance, but I finally faced reality just this week and put it in my DI box. And then gave the box to my roommate to keep for me until she could take it to DI so that I wouldn't really be able to change my mind.

And I cried. Because I love that shirt. But I needed to let it go because it's a trigger. My wedding dress, rings, and the earrings that I got for the wedding are being stored at a friend's house for the moment for the same reason.

I think that you get it. Stay away from things that make you think specifically about your situation or that are just sad things in general.

Third, I love to help people. So even though I am at a very low point in my life, I am constantly looking for ways to help others. And I can't do much right now, but I can do more than you'd think. More than I thought that I could before I found myself in this situation.

The day after my fiance was arrested, I spent most of the day holed up at one of my best friend's apartments. But that evening I went over to my fiance's apartment to check up on his roommates and see how they were holding up (the shock on the one roommate's face when I told him that I wanted to check up on THEM was priceless). And I tried to make sure that my own roommates were doing okay. And then I met up with a singing group that he had been the director for so that I could tell them that they no longer had a director, but that I wanted to help in absolutely any way that I could.

My roommates told me to "stop worrying about everyone else! Worry about you! We're all so worried about you!" To which I replied "I don't know what ME needs, so just let me help everyone else. It makes me feel better." And it does.

It's been amazing to see the impact that I have been able to have on SO many people. This experience has placed me in a position where I have been able to touch the lives of an incredible number of people. Many of them complete strangers to me.

What I keep saying is that if anything good can come out of such a completely awful situation, then I absolutely want it to and I'm going to milk it for all it's worth.

You see, over the years I have prayed to be able to be an instrument in the Lord's hands. And well, this certainly isn't what I had in mind, but Heavenly Father has given me the opportunity to use my own traumatic situation to reach out to others who struggle. He has given me the opportunity to extend my helping hand farther, and to more people, than I ever could have before.

That, more than just about anything else, is what keeps me going.

I struggle to get to bed at a decent time or eat proper meals. I struggle to find the motivation to do much of anything. But this experience has given me even more of a drive than I already had to help others. And it has also given me a greater understanding of certain types of anguish that I have never before felt, which means that I can better relate to so many more people than I ever could before.

I now have a very unique perspective on a lot of things, as well as an unusual outreach at this time. And by golly I'm going to take advantage of that. Because my life is really hard right now- for SO many reasons -but that doesn't mean that I am useless. In many ways I feel useless, but in other ways, I can see that I have been enabled to do more than I ever could before.

Helping others, especially during the times when you don't even know how to help yourself, really is healing.

And last but not least, the biggest secret that I have to keeping going is to be grateful.

When all of life's problems are right up in your face, it can be so hard to see absolutely anything good in your life. But I promise that it's there. And there are more blessings than you could ever have imagined.

Because you see, Heavenly Father knows that we have to go through hard things, but that doesn't mean that He enjoys watching us go through them. It kills Him. So He'll do anything short of actually taking the obstacle away to help us to climb over it instead.

Let's look at my situation:

With my fiance all of a sudden in jail and everything that I thought that I knew all of a sudden a lie, I think that most people would say that there was nothing to be grateful for that night.

They would be wrong.

I was grateful that all of this came to light before I was married to the guy. I was grateful for the detective that gave me a hug when I asked for one because I was home alone when they came and told me that my fiance is the one that had hidden cameras in my apartment. I was grateful for my amazing, supportive roommates when they got back and I told them. I was grateful for my apartment manager's support. I was grateful to be in a place where I could easily ask for and receive a priesthood blessing. I was SO very grateful for my married friends that came to pick me up and let me stay the night even though they had no idea what was wrong, only that something was. I was grateful that I managed to sleep at all that night and that I didn't have nightmares (though I've had plenty since).

And then going beyond that night, I have been grateful for all of the millions of people that have reached out- and continue to reach out -to me over the last few months. I'm grateful for the virtual strangers who have held me while I've cried because all of a sudden I was overwhelmed by it all again. I'm grateful for my family for their love and support. I'm grateful for my old bosses who really, truly tried to work with me, even though I eventually had to be let go. I'm grateful for my friends who make sure that I eat sometimes, and the people who have bought me groceries. I'm grateful for the doctor that I've been working with. I'm grateful for the rides that I've been given. I'm grateful for my friends for not making me feel worse than I already did for leaving a game night after being there for only a few minutes because I simply couldn't handle it at the moment. I'm grateful for my guy friends who happily left their warm cozy beds at 11:30 at night because I just needed a boy hug.

I really believe that it is during our most difficult times that the blessings from the Lord are most apparent. But only if you're looking. I know people who wouldn't be acknowledging any of the blessings that I have.

But I'm not them. I have a tender mercies journal next to my bed and I have never had as much to write in it as I have during these last few months.

But let me tell you. I haven't always been like this. I've struggled with depression my entire life. I've been the person who turns a blind eye to all of the good things in life. And it's hard to change that mindset. It is hard to learn to see the good. But it is SO worth it. Because then there is hope in every situation. There is light in the deepest blackness.

As I've learned to see the blessings in my life, I have seen over and over and over again that everything really does work out in the end. It really, truly does. Because we have the most powerful Being on our side. The Almighty God is our Father and He loves us more than we could ever imagine and He wants the absolute best for us.

And so life sucks. And I cry lots. And I struggle with the smallest things sometimes. And this is not at all easy. And I'm miserable, but not always. Because I know for a fact that this isn't forever. I know for sure that everything will be okay. Because it always is in the end. Things will get better. They always do.

So I can be miserable and happy at the same time. I can have tears bubbling underneath but a genuine smile on my face and laughter in my eyes and on my lips all the same. And that's what really matters.

Father's Day 2017

So I just wanted to share my Father's Day talk with you all. I'm quite proud of it actually. I've never had so many people tell me that they liked my talk before. And a couple of people even told me that they teared up as I was speaking. Which is kind of my goal anytime I speak or sing in a church setting ;)

Basically I'm copying and pasting my notes from the talk into this blog post and then trying to add in the things that I added in as I spoke. Enjoy!

First off, I want to wish you all a Happy Father's Day! But I also want to acknowledge that today might be hard for some people. Not everyone’s dad is as cool as mine and that's hard. Maybe you don't get along well, or he's not in your life. So if the things that I'm about to describe isn’t your dad, I hope that you think of those “Dad” figures in your life today. Maybe it’s an uncle, a friend, your neighbor, or your Mom. Or maybe it’s multiple people. Whatever the case, all of the comparisons that I’m about to make still apply.

You’re learning how to ride a two-wheeler bike. Dad is with you day after day. He knows when it’s time to set the training wheels higher, and when to take them off. It’s reassuring to have him right there next to you holding you up as you ride. But then he lets go sometimes, which is scary. And sometimes you go for a little ways all by yourself and sometimes you fall immediately. You don’t realize that Dad is still right there next to you until he catches you.

Every. Single. Time.

He doesn’t want you to get hurt. But he also wants you to learn to do it by yourself because he knows how much fun it is! So he keeps letting go. And you keep falling. And he keeps catching. And eventually you don’t fall anymore and you’re off! You’re speeding down the sidewalk feeling like the coolest kid in the neighborhood and dad is left in the dust. But he’s the one that made it possible, and so he stands there smiling, so proud of you for working hard and letting go of your fears. Eventually you pedal back, jump off of your bike, and give your dad a big huge hug. You did it! And it was all because of Dad.

Let’s be real. As a kid, dad is pretty much THE coolest person ever. He’s so tall and he’s definitely the strongest daddy and he makes you giggle. And then you grow up. And he’s still there, but you don’t see him as much. You don’t talk to him as much. You know that he’s always there for you, but he’s not there with you and so he no longer knows when you’ve scraped your knee (or your heart). And you can no longer drag him out of bed when you’ve had a nightmare.

But guess what?! You actually do have a Father that is always there. Always listening. And He always knows exactly what you need, even before you do. And He knows when to step in and when to let you coast for a while and figure this life thing out on your own. But even then He’s right there next to you. Watching. Ready to catch you if you fall. He is a completely perfect parent. And I think that that is pretty amazing.

So I’m going to tell you about my own dad so that you understand how awesome he is. And then I’ll tell you how awesome your Father in Heaven is.

Dad just turned 60 a couple of months ago, and for his birthday, my sister came to us with an idea that she saw in a blog. We would gather together 60 letters and memories from all kinds of people that know my dad (including us of course), and then put them all in 60 separate envelopes and give them to him on his birthday.

I want to share some of those experiences and thoughts with you, starting with a bit of a Facebook status that I made on a Father’s Day that passed while I was a missionary:

“My dad is THE best person ever. You may think that it's your dad, but you'd be wrong. My dad is the most hardworking, hard playing, selfless, sweet person I have ever met.”

Here's a little bit of the "hard playing" side of my dad:

Fun-loving side:

A brother from our ward- Shortly after the Kretchman's joined our ward, we had a family softball game. So, Bill is in left field and a high pop fly is heading out in to foul territory. He tracks the ball and makes a great catch. Unfortunately for him though, there was no warning track. Immediately after he caught it he hit the fence which was waist high. He flipped right over it. To his credit and my team’s dismay, he held on to it. Big out!

My sister- Playing hide and seek with the kids. You hide under the kitchen table, but Spiderman style. Parallel with the table top, you used each leg of the table and your legs and arms to pull yourself and then hold yourself right under the table top. Who are you?

Me- Asking you “are we almost there?” during one of our many road trips and you replying “we’re getting closer all the time!” and me being totally satisfied with that response. Sneaky.

Service-oriented side:

A sister that was in our ward a years ago- When we have served together in church assignments, I looked to you as a great example of selfless service without complaint. The only time I heard even a hint of complaint was when you asked how we were supposed to share the gospel when all of our time seemed to be taken up with the needs of the ward in Maryland. And that's not even a complaint, just a desire to serve more.

Brother #3- You’ve tried to meet all the inactives, not because it’s your calling, but because you love the gospel and you know the worth of souls.

Brother #2- I'll always remember one stormy night when you woke me up, concerned about the roof not being closed in at _____, and then in that storm at night you helped me close it in so there wouldn't be any damage to the house.

Literally, this exemplifies my dad. He is ALWAYS serving somebody! And he's the meek, quiet, faithful servant, so no one really knows. He just goes and does and then goes and does some more. Not because anyone told him too, just because he loves people. It's just what he does.

We live in the middle of Hicktown, USA where lots of people go hunting and fishing after church. So my dad would go "hunting and fishing" too. But like, fishers of men kind of fishing. He would go out- I want to say every Sunday -and just go down the list of less active members and go see them. See if they still live there, if they needed anything, if they had any desire to come back to church. Because my dad cares about EVERYONE.

And that is how our Father in Heaven is as well. He knows each of our names and wants to make sure that we're all doing okay. He wants to be there for us if we need anything at all.

Which leads to these last memories, all from me and my siblings.

Reflecting Heavenly Father:

My sister- I will never forget coming home from a date night to see Shae sleeping with a blanket wrapped around his head because you were worried about his head being cold, and telling us that you understand how it feels to sleep with a cold head.

When I first read this memory, I laughed. Because Dad always wraps up in the weirdest way when he sits to watch TV. He takes our old green afghan and wraps it around his head and arms, usually with another blanket covering his legs and wrapped around his feet.

But then I really thought about it. As silly as this may sound, Heavenly Father knows what it's like to sleep with a cold head. He knows what it's like to be heartbroken, to be lonely, to break a bone, to suffer. And he knows how to fix it. And He can't always do it right away, but He's always there helping us along the way. He is wrapping a blanket around our heads because he knows how it feels to sleep with a cold head.

My sister- Simple, yet incredible to think back on all the many many many times we played catch on Kidwell Court. While I’m sure it happened at least once or twice, I don’t ever remember you turning me down when I asked you to go out and play catch with me.

Me- You sleeping with me every single night when I went through the phase of thinking that a burglar was going to come in through the window and take me away.

My dad works hard. I'm sure he is often tired and would appreciate some time to relax. But he never hesitated to help Brillante with softball because it was important to her. And he never complained about cramming on my bed or laying on the floor because I was sure that I would be kidnapped if he wasn't there with me when I fell asleep.

Heavenly Fathers cares about the small stuff. He always has time to listen to us. He doesn't mind if we ask over and over for the same thing. Because if it is important to us, it's important to Him.

Brother #3- You have been supportive of me even when it isn’t easy.

You’re the best father I ever could have asked for, and you’re doing a magnificent job at reflecting the influence of your (our) Father as well. I want to be like you when I grow up, Dad. I love you so much.

Brother #2- You never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself.

      

I think that these ones are pretty obvious. Heavenly Father loves us even when we openly rebel against Him. He believes in us even when we've signed ourselves off as hopeless. We fall more times than we can count. But He is always there to lift us up, brush us off, and stick us right back on the bike, cheering us on as we start to pedal once again.

This last one kind of became the favorite of all of the memories that were shared.

Me- I remember our little neighbor Maisi coming to our door asking for me to play My Little Pony with her, but I was “too old and cool” to do that, so I said no. A little while later I saw you sitting on the sidewalk playing with her instead. I’ve always admired you for that.

My dad is always trying to make someone happy. He's always loving, he's always serving, he's always brightening somebody's day.

I was a little kid when that last memory happened. I don't know how old I was, but not very, that's for sure. But I've ALWAYS remembered that moment. I didn't want to play with our annoying little neighbor girl. She was only about four at the time and I was too cool for school. I was not about to play ponies with her. Yet when I walked outside and saw my dad sitting there playing with her I felt bad. But I also felt so proud that that was my dad. He didn't care if he looked silly. He knew that Maisi needed a friend and that playing ponies with her would make her happy. And so he did.

All Heavenly Father wants is for us to be happy. And he does SO much to help us to be happy. Even when times are hard, I guarantee that if you look, you will see His hand everywhere. He sends people to be there for us. He sends us rainbows and sunsets to brighten our otherwise gloomy day.

I am so grateful for my dad because, to pull more from that status that I read earlier: “He really helps me to understand how much my Heavenly Father loves me. Because I can't imagine anyone loving me more than my dad. I know that he'll never let me down and that he'll always be there to pick me up when I fall.” Because that’s what daddies do.

To close I wanted to share something that a friend of mine wrote and shared on Facebook while I was a missionary:

I just want to tell you (the person reading this) that Heavenly Father loves you more than anything and He knows you. He would have sent His son here even if it was just you on the earth. You are enough. You matter. He has great blessings in store for you, and it is never too late for anyone. Your soul individually matters to Him. He gets up every morning and sees your picture on His desk and says “that’s my child and I love them.”

I believe that that is true. 

One day, we're all going to pedal back to our Father and throw our arms around Him and say "Daddy I did it! I made it!" And He will hold us close with tears of joy running down His face because that's all He's ever wanted.

I know that Heavenly Father loves each of us so personally and so perfectly. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

PS- Happy Father's Day to all of you dad's, dad figures, or just awesome men in general! And a special shout out to my dad, who is obviously the coolest one ever <3

Who I Am and Why I'm Blogging

Well hello there! Welcome to my blog.

As you can tell by the first 7 words, I have no idea what I'm doing.

I've felt for a while like I should maybe start a blog, and the events of this year have made me decide to finally do it. Mostly because my Facebook posts are getting progressively longer and I'm awful at journaling, so this way I can keep all of my stupid long posts in one place and pretend that I'm journaling. But the only reason I'm doing that in blog form instead of just copying and pasting all of my posts into a word document is because I'm hoping that something that I say will help someone.

Before I get into the "events of this year"- which you will definitely hear about because they have had an enormous impact on my life -I'm going to continue with my awkward introduction and tell you a bit about myself.

At this point in time, June 15, 2017, I am 23 years old. I was born in Maryland, lived a good chunk of my life there before moving to Pennsylvania when I was 12, and have lived in 5 different states in the past 5 years since I graduated high school. I don't have a specific accent, but if you know me and are reading this blog, you are probably reading most of it in my voice because I write the way that I talk (for the most part).

I am currently living in Rexburg, ID as a student at Brigham Young University Idaho. I am studying Recreational Therapy. I hope to someday help people who struggle with depression, suicidal tendencies, addiction, and/or PTSD. I have personally experienced the effects of two and SEEN the effects of all. I can think of four friends off the top of my head who have tried (and luckily failed) to commit suicide, and one who succeeded. I have loved ones that struggle with addiction. I personally suffer from depression and now PTSD as well.

I guess this leads us to the why of my blog. You see, I want to help people. I want to help people before they try to commit suicide, before they are addicted, before trauma occurs. And you know what? That's hard. It's hard because we as a society don't talk about our problems. We live in a world of false lives. Of social media that only shows the good times, or what appear to be good times at least. Where the only people who do talk about their problems are the whiny, attention-seeking people that annoys everyone, but still receive the notice that they're aiming for. No one wants to be that person, so no one that isn't already that person wants to show anything but sunshine and rainbows on their feed.

We're taught to buck it up, be a man, deal with it. We're taught that asking for help is a weakness. That asking for help only burdens those whom we ask and makes us look pathetic in the process. People tell you that they are there for you and to let them know if there is anything that they can do for you. But we don't. And you know what? That is what is weak. And it's plain selfish.

Now don't misunderstand me, I tend to be awful at asking for help. I just want to do it on my own. I don't want to inconvenience anyone. I like to be the one helping, not the one being helped. But wait a minute, read that again. I like to be the one helping, not the one being helped. How stupid is that?! I'm frustrated by people like me. I want to help people and gosh darnit I wish that people would actually let me there for them. I wish that people would reach out to me for help. And you know what? I'm not the only one that feels that way. When people say that they're there for me, they mean that they really do want to help and support me. They really do want me to call and ask them for help. They want the exact same things that I do. And that's the problem. No one wants to be the problem. We all want to be the solution.

If we would all stop being so freaking stubborn, everyone would get the help that they need!

My friends tried to commit suicide and THEN they received the help that they needed because the decision of getting help or not was no longer in their hands. But what if they had lived in a world where they could be open and honest about their struggles and get the help that they needed without feeling bad about it? Well, maybe they would have gotten help before they tried to end their lives.

In my life right now, I need help. All the time. And I hate it. But I'm at a point where I absolutely know that I can't do this on my own. And I have to tell myself, I'm not the only one like me. They want me to let them help. I'm depriving them of service blessings if I don't. Heavenly Father sends people in our lives for this exact reason. And on and on and on.

Not asking for help would only result in me being in even worse condition than I already am, which would consequently mean that I would have even less of a capacity to help others than I do now. If I want to help anyone, then sometimes I have to allow myself to be helped first.

And that means that I can't keep pretending that I'm fine. I have to stop letting the world see my life through rose-colored glasses. And that's what I've been doing.

And you know what? It is by doing that very thing that is so taboo that I have been able to help others even when my own tank is low.

Because you can post about your real, actual life- the good the bad and the ugly -without being a whiny attention seeker. It actually is possible. I know this because I've been doing it. And yes, I do get the comments telling me that I'm awesome and whatever, but that's not why I do it. I do it because I'm a real person that's tired of pretending. I do it because after those posts, I get personal messages on Facebook thanking me for what I said. Messages from people that tell me that my posts help keep them going through their own trials.

A good number of people have opened up to me about things that they're struggling, or have struggled, with. And do you know why? Because they know that my life isn't perfect either. No one wants to ask help from someone who seems like everything in their life is wonderful. No, we're most likely to ask help from someone that has been through a similar experience as we have. It's an amazing thing. By opening up about my life, I've created a two-way street of love and support. I have support from people who have been through similar situations as me. And other people have support from me as I deal with things that they are going through.

That is the impact that not being fake can have. We have the power to create a network of love and support. And it all starts with taking the filter off of your life. Being the real you so that others feel that they can be the real them.

Because if I saw someone post on their Facebook about their experience going through xyz that I'm going through now, then I might actually message them and ask them about their experience with it. I wouldn't do that for just some random Joe, because they probably don't know. And maybe they do, but I don't know that.

I'm being really vague about what it is exactly that I am going through, mostly because explaining would double the length of this already lengthy post.

So I think I'll wrap up now and write more about that later.

The point is, I want to help people. So this blog is going to be my best attempt to do that. I'll be writing about my own life experiences and things that I've learned from them. I'll have posts about things that I'm studying in the scriptures or insights that I've had from talks. Basically I'm going to word vomit all over you all. But I'm already doing that on Facebook, so I don't feel too bad about it ;)

If you're reading this, please know that no one is perfect. And that is okay. Everyone is their own type of imperfect, whether you can see the flaws in others or not, I promise that you are not the only one who has them. We're all a little broken. We all have our struggles, our temptations, our weaknesses, our trials. They make us who we are. So know that it's okay. You are okay and you're not okay. And that's fine. But know that things will be okay. And that's what matters.

PS- If you're wondering what's with the stars. They're my favorite. I LOVE the sky. And to quote the song "Stone's Throw" by The National Parks: "Do you ever think, do you ever think about the stars? To see them clear, you have to step into the dark." Further proof that good can come from the darkest of times.

(When I originally made this blog, it had a starry background. That's what that is referring to. As of today, December 28, 2017, it no longer looks like that. As much as I absolutely love stars, it makes for a very dark blog, which is kind of stressful to look at. So there you go.)