Chronic Illness Part Two: Healing is Hard When Your Body Hates Everything About You

Okay, so this post should wrap up the whole reason that I'm writing these. But to start, I need to finish my list of problems. Yay!

Irritable Bowel Syndrome

This is the big one. 

Simply put, Irritable Bowel Syndrome (or IBS) is the diagnosis that they give you when there is literally nothing else that you could possibly have. If all of the millions of tests that they try on you come back negative, you have IBS. If no medicine or treatment helps, you have IBS. It's great.

When I was 8 years old, I started to feel sick every day. It started out with nausea. I never, ever threw up, but I felt nauseous constantly. Over the years, more symptoms appeared. Light-headedness, head aches, chest pain, weakness, etc. And every time a new symptom appeared or an old symptom felt different than before, we would always go back to the doctor because I must actually be sick right now, right? Wrong. It had just morphed. So sometimes the nausea felt different than other times. And sometimes the headaches or chest pain were different. And sometimes I would get awful stomachaches along with the nausea. And sometimes I was constipated, but other times it was diarrhea. Or it was somehow both. Cool, cool.

From the time that I was a little girl, I would spend A LOT of time on the toilet every day. As a kid, I would just sit there and play school by myself. As I got older, I would get really bored. This is still an issue. I am often late to things because I had to go to the bathroom and ended up on the toilet for 30 minutes constipated/having diarrhea. I remember my mom being confused as to why I never seemed to know whether I had to go number 2 or not when I was younger. But that's because I usually didn't feel like I had to until I was on the toilet. The same often applies today. But I also have to run to the bathroom sometimes because it hits all of a sudden. Which is great when it hits right in the middle of work.

IBS also meant that I missed A LOT of school growing up. I would wake up super nauseous and weak, so the thought of trying to walk around school with a bunch of books and sit through classes while trying not to pass out made staying home seem like a much better option. My mom and I actually had to go to court after my first year in Pennsylvania because the school system didn't care that I got good grades despite missing so much school, all they care about was my attendance record. They didn't care that I had a note from my mom- and often from doctors -to excuse every single absence. They decided that my mom- who was doing all that she could to figure out why her daughter was sick all the time -was being a neglectful parent.

Fun fact: I started my first ever period sitting in a court room.

As soon as the judge looked at my medical record and saw that we really had been seeing doctors and doing tests and everything, she decided that the whole case was stupid because obviously my mom was being a stellar parent by trying to figure out WHY I was sick all the time instead of just ignoring it. The case was almost immediately dismissed. 

Speaking of seeing doctors and doing tests.... From the time I was 8 until I was 18, I saw ALL of the doctors. I went to gastroenterology, rheumatology, and psychiatry departments. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, anxiety, an aneurysm, and a million other things that I don't remember, only for them to decide- after the medications for those things didn't help -that that wasn't it after all. I've done ALL of the digestive tests; colonoscopies, endoscopes, capsule endoscopes, barium studies, one where I had to eat radioactive eggs, one where I had to drink two giant cups of who knows what. Most of them required either fasting for X amount of time and/or a colon cleanse. I've also had CAT scans and MRIs. I've peed in so many cups, had blood drawn SO many times, had IVs, drunk weird things, etc. And everything always came back negative. 

And the doctors would tell me that like it was a good thing. "Everything looks great!" Great. Really great. I'm glad that I still look like a crazy person for feeling super sick all the time even though all tests show that I'm in tip-top condition! I'm SO glad that I still don't have a diagnosis, which means we still have no course of action to make me feel better so that I can live a normal life. Thanks so much for that Doc!

It's not their fault. But I can honestly tell you (and this is really embarrassing to admit) that I got the point where I wouldn't have even cared if they told me that I had cancer because at least then we could TRY to make me better. At least there would be a name for what I have and a treatment plan. Yeah it might not work and I'd die, but at least I would know. I know how awful that sounds, but that's what having an unknown medical problem does to you. 

I can't tell you how many times doctor's have thought that I had appendicitis only to come back to "Everything looks great!"

When I was 16 or 17, I started bleeding when I pooped. It had no correlation with when I felt nauseous or got stomachaches. It just started happening one day and then would happen every so often. Taking stool samples is disgusting. 

The blood is what kept me from going on a mission right away. 

I knew that there was no way that they would let me serve a mission with an unknown internal bleeding problem. I mean, that's one of the questions that they always ask you in the ER; "Have you had bloody stool?" Yes indeedy, three times this week! But I feel totally fine otherwise, thanks for asking!

Sorry, as you can tell, the sarcasm is strong in this post.

After even MORE digestive tests, we finally figured out that my intestines were bleeding because of my constipation. I remember prepping for this test actually. The last one that I did before my mission. I had to drink two huge cups of who knows what and have an IV stuck in my arm. The nurses were shocked when I slurped down cup #1 super fast and decided to go ahead and put the IV in while I chugged the second one. At this point, drinking mysterious liquids and having needles stuck into my body wasn't really anything new. I just wanted to get it over with. And this one finally got results!

We still didn't know why I was constipated all the time, but we knew that that's why I was bleeding, so I was finally able to turn in my mission papers after about 8 months of doing medical tests even though I had pretty much already done all of them in middle and high school. 

And by then I had started to feel better more often, so I thought that I was finally getting somewhere with this mysterious illness. 

HA.

I was in the MTC for 12 days and went to the ER twice in that time. I spent most of my mission sick in bed and was almost sent home a couple of times. Being sick all the time did nothing to help the severe depression that was going on while I was a missionary. It was actually on my mission that I was diagnosed with IBS. The doctor told me that basically if everything comes back negative but you're still crazy sick all the time, then you probably have IBS. He told me that it's triggered by stress. But listen, it doesn't matter if you're handling your life just fine mentally/emotionally or not, your body will still react poorly. So even regular, totally manageable stress can and will make me super nauseous. Even if I don't feel stressed out at all, my body will still get nauseous. But if I DO feel stressed, then everything goes to pot.

IBS also makes it really hard to figure out if I have an actual virus/flu at times because the symptoms of IBS are also the symptoms of many illnesses. So every I seem to be extra sick I get to play the "is it worth it to go to the doctor" game. Because why spend money to see a doctor when you feel like crap but know that he/she'll probably just conclude that your IBS is acting up? But then, what happens if I do get seriously ill and I don't see a doctor because I figure it's just a flare up?

Anyway, we're getting close to the point of all of this, but really quick, let me go over PTSD with you again.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

My current counselor told me that what I went through with my ex's abuse and felony actually gave me a brain injury. So when they say "trauma" they mean that what happened actually hurt my brain.

Symptoms of PTSD include- but are not limited to:

Nightmares, panic attacks, being triggered and having flashbacks, trouble concentrating, being extra jumpy, issues sleeping, feeling keyed up, loss of appetite, headaches, experiencing sensory overload, anxiety, twitchiness when you try to fall asleep, puking, and chronic fatigue.

I only listed ones that I have personally experienced, but there are more here and here that go more in depth as well.

As you can imagine, having PTSD on top of chronic sleep issues and chronic digestive issues is no walk in the park.

And this is the crux of this whole Chronic Illness post:

It's taking me longer to heal because of my chronic illnesses than it would if I didn't have them.

Let's look at some of the things that would help me to heal mentally and emotionally:

Exercise, proper diet, good sleep, counseling, and keeping busy/feeling productive.

All of those things are excruciatingly difficult to do when you're not only dealing with PTSD (and the anxiety and depression that's wrapped up in that), but you're also extra nauseous and extra light-headed. 

I lost my job within about two and a half months of my ex being arrested. Not because I wasn't doing my job well still even though I was majorly depressed. No, not that. I lost my job because I had to call off too much. Because I would wake up feeling so weak and nauseous that I could hardly get out of bed. Because I would try to get ready for work and almost pass out because I would get so dizzy. And so I would call off. 

And my boss tried really, really hard to work with me. He knew the situation and knew that I was going through some really intense crap and so he was more lenient with absences than he normally would be. But when it came down to it, I didn't make it to work enough to viably stay on. I wasn't fired per se, but I didn't really quit either. We kind of just mutually agreed that I didn't work there anymore. He put me down as re-hireable and said that he hoped to see me back in a few months.

I didn't work for almost a year.

And school? Man oh man, I hate when people ask me how long I have left. *Shrugs* "I might graduate......... Someday...."

Because the PTSD makes it really hard for me to focus, making getting homework done SUPER difficult. And the IBS makes it really hard for me to get to class as much as I need to. And so ever since my ex started abusing me in Fall of 2016 (before he was arrested, mind you), I've had to drop at least one class per semester and have failed some of the others. And you have to understand that I had never failed a class in my life before then. Even with missing school constantly growing up, I always made up all of the work and ended the year with all A's and B's (except for the one C that I got my entire grade school career).

I've only been able to take a few credits at a time, and even then I have yet to have a semester where I actually kept up with the classes. Not for lack of trying. Not for lack of desire to learn. On the contrary, I've had to drop some of my favorite classes. And I've failed classes that I'm fascinated by. I WANT to be in class learning. I don't really want to do homework, but I sure as heck want to succeed in college, so in a way, I do! This past Fall semester, I sat in front of my laptop trying to focus on an English assignment for a good TWO HOURS before finally giving myself a break because I clearly wasn't getting anywhere.

I want to be able to take full classes again. I want to graduate someday. But for the last two years, that has been a real struggle.

I finally have a job again, but I'm still having to call off CONSTANTLY. I've maybe made it to work every day in a week about four times since I started in April. Four. If that.

And this semester, I've been feeling sick even more often than the last couple of semesters, which means that I've also been missing more church. And I LOVE church. And I've been missing Tuesday devotional. And I LOVE devo. 

Which are two more things that would really help me to heal mentally/emotionally. I'm trying so hard to lean on the Savior through my difficulties, but I feel like I'm not doing very well because I struggle to focus when I study the scriptures each day, and I'm lucky if I make it past sacrament meeting on Sunday. I've been to Relief Society maybe three times this semester. If that.

Feeling sick constantly makes it really hard to progress in this whole healing process thing. Because there are things that I want to do and that I try to do that I know would help me, but I physically am incapable of doing them. And because I feel sick so often, when I get a day that I don't feel sick, I end up doing way too much and exhausting myself, making it a lot more likely for me to feel super sick the next day. 

And everyone keeps telling me to "Take care of yourself. Don't push yourself so hard. Be nice to yourself." and I'm so sick of it because taking care of myself means missing out on everything important. It means missing work and missing church and missing class. It means not doing fun things with roommates and friends a lot of the time because I'm in bed. But then if I do push myself, I end up feeling way worse. So where is the line between pushing myself so that I make some kind of progress, and being nice to myself so that I don't go backwards? I'm still trying to find it and I don't seem to be getting any closer.

I know that I've talked about this before and I'm sure I'll talk about it again, but I still really struggle not to compare myself to who I was when my ex fell in love with me.

That Anna was taking 13 credits, working 20 hours a week, working at the temple every Saturday, volunteering with the Disciple Leadership Council every Wednesday night, and doing it all on four hours of sleep a night because she was also doing long distance. Then that Anna was in a bike accident and added physical therapy to the mix. And she still did everything else. And she ended the semester with straight A's. She did have to drop ballet because of her injuries, but she did everything else. With no sleep. In extreme pain.

And now I can't even take six credits and work. I still work at the temple and haven't had to call off too, too much, but it's also the only thing I ever have planned on Saturday because I know that I can't handle anything else. 

My life has become a daily game of pick and choose. If I go to work, then I feel too awful to go to class. If I go to class, then I fell too awful to go to work. If I stay for all three church meetings, then I won't make it to my evening meetings. And most of the time, I actually don't end up making it to any of the above because I feel too awful to do any of it.

And not only am I comparing myself to who I used to be and what I used to be able to do, but I find myself comparing myself to other victims as well. I have a few different friends that have been victims of severe abuse, whose husbands have been adulterous or severely demeaning, and while I know that they have their own struggles, I watch them succeeding in school. I see them working and socializing and being functional. And most of them started recovery quite a while after me. And yet they seem to be so much further along than I am.

And so I'm left feeling thoroughly useless. 

Two years later and I still can't succeed in school, work, or life in general. Two years later and I've still made such little progress. And that kills me. It kills me to see my friends (who in a lot of ways have been through much worse things than me) moving forward in life while I seem to be stuck. Not because I'm not SO happy for them, but because it has made me feel even more inferior, even more pathetic. Why is it so hard for me to move forward when they seem to be making huge strides?

And something that I have had to come to terms with recently is that 1- they are struggling more than I am seeing and 2- they aren't fighting their physical health along with their mental health to the extent that I am. And that honestly makes a huge difference. Because they aren't dealing with severe nausea and light-headedness, major back pain, and asthma, it's a little bit easier for them to take the necessary steps to recover. Not to say that they aren't also incredibly strong and working through a lot, but it is important for me to realize that we are dealing with very different things. And so my healing process may actually be a lot slower than their's. Not because I'm weaker than them, but because I've got an extra layer of difficulty due to me illnesses.

Not that there aren't really good things going on in my life. I am so freaking extremely blessed that Jonathan somehow fell in love with me in the midst of all of this. My ex fell in love with me when I was at my very best. Jonathan fell in love with me when I was at my worst.

I am so incredibly grateful to have such a loving and patient fiance. I am so grateful that he wants to marry me with full knowledge of my lack of functionality. But honestly, it also kills me. Because he is the literal best person for me. But I feel so awful that he is picking up so much baggage. That he is going to have to do so, so much for me. 

Granted, I also do a lot better with everything when we're together, so I honestly think that the healing process will progress a lot better once we're on the same side of the country again. 

But for right now, with him being in Ohio while I'm in Idaho, it's been really rough. 

And you have to understand; I already felt like no one would ever want to marry me because of all of my medical problems. And that was when they were under better control. But now that I've added PTSD into the mix- which has exacerbated all of the problems that I already had -I thought that there was no way that anyone would want to be with me. Who would want to be with someone that can't hold a job? Or who struggles to do well in a single class? Who would want to be with someone that is sick in bed half the time and sobbing and having anxiety attacks the other half?

Apparently Jonathan. Bless his heart.

And I could go on and on about all of the good things that he sees in me and why he wants to marry me, but that's not the point of this post. 

The point is that chronic illness is the worst. And it really does do a number on a person. It makes life really hard even without adding trauma (AKA- brain injury) into the mix. Because being chronically ill already makes me feel useless on it's own, but PTSD has also given me fairly severe anxiety that I never had to deal with before on top of everything else. So every concern is blown way out of proportion. Even if I know in my head that something isn't a big deal, my body and emotions still run away with me and leave me sobbing uncontrollably, hardly able to breathe. It doesn't matter that I'm doing what I can, it never, ever feels like it's going to be enough.

So if you have a (or multiple) chronic illness(es), please know that you really are trying your best. Even if your best literally feels like nothing at all. And know that there are people who will recognize that you really are trying your best. There are people out there who will see that where you currently are isn't because of a lack of effort or desire. That sometimes you literally just can't do the thing at the moment. And that doesn't make not being able to do it feel any better necessarily, but it's at least nice to know that there's someone that doesn't just think that you're being lazy or pathetic.

Because being chronically ill isn't lazy or pathetic. It's being sick. Hopelessly, constantly sick. And that's seriously rough.

And if you know someone that has a chronic illness, please know that they are probably trying a lot harder than you think they are. Having a sickness with no cure is really taxing. It's exhausting, it's discouraging, and it messes with EVERYTHING. Try imagining going through every day of your life with a giant tumor that no one else can see. It still hurts and it still messes you up, but no one else can see it. That's chronic illness.

I wish that I could tell you all that I knew that everything was going to get better soon, but I can't. Because with chronic illness, you never really know. But I DO know that being sick doesn't make me a bad person. I know that it doesn't mean that I'm just not trying hard enough or that I'm lazy. Being sick doesn't mean that I deserve love any less than anyone else. It just means that things are harder for me right now than they should be. It means that healing is going to take longer for me than it might for others. Because PTSD irritates my IBS and IBS makes me sick which makes me more stressed which irritates my IBS and on and on and on. 

Being chronically mentally ill at the same time as being chronically physically ill just really sucks. A lot. But I know that I'm going through all of this for a reason. 

I saw this on Elizabeth Smart's Instagram recently and it really spoke to me: 

I ran into the teacher of the class that I had to drop this semester and we were talking about my situation. She told me that she thinks that healing is being so difficult for me and taking so long for me because I'm going to be able to use my experiences to help other people, so I have to go through extra pain so that I can understand and sympathize with others even more. And going through extra pain isn't my favorite thing that's happened in my life, but I hope that it does mean that I will be able to be more understanding of others in all different situations because I've been through all of them. Simultaneously. For a long time.

When I was younger, I would sometimes pray that since I was sick all the time, other people wouldn't have to be. And that I would take some extra trials if it meant that others didn't have to suffer so much. I don't know why I thought that that was a good idea, but those prayers are being answered. And I hope that because of the suffering that I am going through now, I will be able to help prevent others from going through similar things. 

Like Elizabeth Smart said; I would would never want to go through all that I've gone through again. But I am grateful for all that it's taught me. I'm grateful that I've been able to help people through sharing my story. And if I have to suffer so that I can help others, then I guess that makes all of this worth it. 

Does that mean that I won't still hate every second of trying to recover? No. Does it mean that I won't still get frustrated at myself and feel pathetic and broken? No. But it absolutely means that I'm going to keep doing my best to reach out to others so that they can have the help and support that they need. And so that they know that they're not alone in feeling sick, and anxious, and broken. 

Healing is hard. Healing when your body is doing all that it can to prevent you from healing is harder. But living with no hope is hardest. I know that things will be okay. Not necessarily that they'll be a ton better anytime soon, but that things will work out the way that they need to as long as I keep trying and as long as I keep trusting that God knows what He's doing with me. Those things may not have gotten me to full recovery yet, but they did bring me the greatest blessing in my life (Jonathan), so I can already see that persevering is going to be worth it.

Hang in there. I know that chronic illness makes everything really, really hard. Like you're living your life on difficult mode while everyone else is on medium. But the harder things are, the stronger you'll become. I promise.

Chronic Illness Part One: Being Sick Sucks

This post goes out to everyone with a chronic illness. If that applies to you, you're awesome and I am so sorry.

I've kind of skirted around this topic for some reason, but I decided that I needed to not do that anymore because this is another one of those kind of taboo subjects. It's something that SO many people struggle with, and yet no one talks about it. And so no one really understands what it's like.

Which I think is part of the reason that I've been afraid to talk about it. Because I don't want to talk about all of these health problems and the take away be "Wow. That girl's got even more issues than I thought." Even if that's true. But people have been really understanding about my life being a mess because of a felony. I can only hope that they'll be understanding of my life being a mess because of invisible illnesses that have plagued me my whole life.

Anyway, here goes nothing!

Ever since I was a little girl, I've struggled with feeling sick ALL. THE. TIME. And I'll tell you what. It really, really sucks.

It sucks because feeling sick sucks. It sucks because you question every bodily function, unsure if you're body is supposed to do that, or if it's another thing that's abnormal about your body. It sucks because people think that you're faking. It sucks because you feel like you should just be used to it by now and be able to push through it. It sucks because there is SO much that you want to do but can't if you feel like death. It just sucks.

I have multiple chronic illnesses. One that I've had for as long as I can remember (insomnia), and some that developed more around 2nd grade (Irritable Bowel Syndrome, depression), some that I developed in high school (asthma, hypersomnia), and then some that I have more recently acquired (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which means that semi-severe anxiety has been added to the mix). Oh, and I also have a back injury that seems like it will never go away. And then there's things that I'm still not really sure about that are wrong with my body.

Okay, let's break these down, shall we?

Insomnia/Hypersomnia

For as long as I can remember, it's taken me longer to fall asleep than anyone else. I started having sleepovers when I was about five or six, and I noticed that my friends would fall asleep in a matter of minutes, leaving me to lay there in the dark for another few hours. I didn't think that there was anything wrong with me, just that some people fall asleep faster than others and I happened to be the only person that I knew that took all night to fall asleep.

I was kind of sneaky about it too. I would always tell me friends to "feel free to wake me up if you wake up first!" because I knew that they would then tell me the same thing and I knew that I would always be awake first.

When I wasn't at a sleepover, I spent most of my hours in bed reading. My dad would come in and the lights would still be on and he would ask "do you know what time it is?!" and I would honestly tell him no. Then he would tell me to turn my lights out and go to sleep. But I knew that I wasn't going to be able to just fall asleep, so I usually just kept reading until all of the words started blurring together and I knew that I could actually fall asleep finally.

Not trying to sound like a disobedient little toerag, but I had to do what I had to do. Anyone that knows me knows that I HATE being bored. And there are few things more boring than laying in bed- in the dark -for hours on end trying to fall asleep. So I would read instead.

When I was a kid, my body still somehow functioned on very little sleep. As I got older though, this became a much bigger problem. So- sometime in middle school I think -I was prescribed sleep medication that I have taken every night since. With the medicine, I could (generally) fall asleep and stay asleep better, but for some reason I was still crazy exhausted the next day anyway.

It didn't matter how many hours of sleep I got, how early I went to bed, etc. I still would be dead tired all day every day. And so I did a second sleep study (I did the first somewhere in the process of getting me onto sleep meds and such) and was diagnosed with another sleep disorder called Hypersomnia.

Insomnia is when you can't fall asleep and/or stay asleep at night. Hypersomnia is essentially when you can't stay awake during the day.

Which, obviously if I'm not sleeping at night, I'll be tired the next day. Duh. But... I was usually sleeping through the night at this point. But I couldn't stay awake for the life of me even so.

(It's not narcolepsy; I wouldn't fall asleep all of a sudden while I was walking or anything. But sit me down in any situation for very long and I struggled. A lot.)

I tried EVERYTHING to stay awake during school. I tried pinching myself, putting my leg on the cold metal part of the desk, sucking on mints, etc. I remember my Psych teacher telling me one day that he's never seen someone try so hard to stay awake in his class. He told me that usually when he saw people falling asleep, they clearly were just giving in to it. They'd lay their head on the desk and just pass out. But he watched me bob up and down for probably most of the 45 minute long class, trying desperately to get something out of the lecture.

I also remember one particular day when I started to fall asleep while taking my AP English test (you know, the one that you PAY to take?) and I was like "Uh-uh. Not now. I can't." And so I started rubbing this horrid sunburn that I had on my shoulder in the hopes that it would wake me up. No dice. So then I was panicking about falling asleep, falling asleep, AND in a crap ton of pain. Yay...

The doctor tried putting me on a stimulant to help me stay awake during the day, but it had a really horrible effect on me and made me super groggy and out of it. So I had to stop taking that pretty quickly and we just never figured anything else out.

The hypersomnia isn't quite as bad now as it used to be, but it still really gets to me sometimes. It really sucked on my mission because I almost never made it through personal study, no matter how hard I tried. I would even try studying standing up, but I'd still be so sleepy that the result was me feeling super lightheaded and nauseous. Good times.

Asthma

I've never had the greatest lung capacity in the world, but things got really bad my junior year of high school.

I got really sick about halfway through the school year. It started out as a cold, became really severe bronchitis, and then just didn't go away. I developed what we call "The Cough." Imagine coughing so hard that you literally feel like you're going to cough up not only your lungs, but every organ in your body. A cough that wracks your entire body. That tears up the back of your throat, gives you a massive headache, and makes your whole body sore. Now multiply what you pictured by about 46. THAT is The Cough.

I missed almost three months of school straight. I went to the ER multiple times when I coughed so hard, so frequently, that I could hardly breathe. They put me on literally dozens of medications including multiple inhalers, steroids, and multiple rounds of antibiotics. Nothing was working. I got breathing treatments and went to see an allergy doctor. We found out then that I was allergic to dust mites (AKA, everything) and got me on some allergy meds that made me stop being itchy all the time (which was a whole different problem), but didn't stop The Cough.

After a while, I tried to go to school. I would usually make it until about AP Music Theory. At which point my teacher would make me go home. So picture this: the music room is in the same hallway as the nurse's office. So I would walk down the hall to call my mom, then I would walk to the complete other side of the building and up the stairs to my locker, and then back down to the nurse's office to wait for my mom to pick me up. So I essentially passed EVERY SINGLE CLASSROOM. Teachers would literally stop their classes so that they could poke their heads out of the their doors and ask if I was alright because they had heard me hacking in the hallway. I'm pretty sure that the whole school became accustomed to my Cough.

Finally they put me on steroids AND and antibiotic at the same time and it eventually went away. But not before I missed every Midterm, science fair, and all of the research days for a 10 page AP Lang research paper. That was fun to make up. I had no idea what was happening in any of my classes at that point and certainly didn't remember what we had learned before. So making up the midterms was torture, I turned my science fair project in literally the last week of school, and I just about killed myself writing my paper that ended up being 18 pages long because it was about Harry Potter. Oh, and I did the musical. Don't ask me how.

Ever since that year though, I have "asthma". I put asthma in quotations because it's not typical. My rescue inhaler doesn't actually help after I've started to have an asthma attack because I don't have normal asthma attacks. I don't stop breathing or anything. I get The Cough. And once it starts, it's not going to stop anytime soon. So I basically just have to lay down for the rest of the day, knowing that I'm going to be sore and exhausted the next day. I swear I should have a six-pack by now from coughing.

Colds almost immediately turn into bronchitis for me, so winter is kind of the worst a lot of the time. I have to be really careful about exercising because if I push myself too hard I'll have an asthma attack. It's great.

So there's that.

Depression

So I said that the depression started when I was 8, but thinking back, I'm realizing that that's not really true. I definitely was always an emotional kid. I was very sensitive to others' pain. I would cry about everything and had really low self-esteem. This wasn't helped at all by moving to a state where I never, ever felt like I fit in when I was 12. It was from the ages of probably 11-16 that the depression really started to set in. In particular, I remember that the year that I turned 16 was really rough. I was super emotional all the time. I would end up alone in a side room crying during most stake dances. I felt like nobody cared about me and it made sense that they wouldn't because there was nothing special about me. It was rough.

I also remember getting super freaked out by my brother being deployed. He'd been deployed before and it hadn't really bothered me before, but this time I was just a total wreck. Constantly.

My mission was super rough for me because I didn't just get discouraged, I became completely distraught. I was so thoroughly down on myself and nothing that anyone did or said helped. I ended up having to talk to a counselor while I was a missionary because it got so bad.

Side note- Can I just say that counselors can be SO wonderful? There's something extremely validating about having a trained professional tell you that you've been through more in 20 years than many of her older patients had been through in their lives. It made me realize that maybe I wasn't as pathetic as I thought after all. Finding the right counselor is vital, but once you do, they really are amazing.

Anyway, that's all I'm really going to say about depression for now because I'll address more of that when I talk about PTSD and such.

Part Two of this post will address IBS and PTSD, so I'll talk a little bit about some of the other things really quick.

Back Injury

So I was in a bicycle accident a little over two years ago. I sprained my wrist, bruised- and possibly fractured -my ribs, bruised a few bones, and got whiplash. The wrist hurt the worst first. Then the ribs. And then my neck. And yet it's the whiplash that's still affecting me.

The pain spread from the left side of my neck down into my shoulder and back on that side, and eventually to the rest of my back and neck.

I went to the doctor, an osteopath (a chiropractor that's actually also a legit doctor as well), and physical therapy. I did PT for a few months. I went and got massages at the massage school here in Rexburg. I did exercises and fixed my posture (mostly). But my back would get better for a little bit, and then tank again. And if I try to do anything the least bit strenuous, my back hates me for weeks. I climbed The Tower at the ropes course here at school for one of my classes. It was so fun! My back didn't bother me at all! Until the next day. And then for the next two weeks. I haven't climbed since.

I work at a thrift store right now in the Small As Is/Large As Is department. This means that I'm constantly bending and lifting. My back has been angry at my for the last few months because of it. My asthma also gets angry at me because of all of the dust, and I have to wear gloves so that I don't break out because of my dust mite allergy. It's great.

The point is, my back has made it really difficult to do a lot of things. I love climbing. Trees, rock walls, you name it. But I'm so afraid of the pain that I know will follow if I do it that I just... don't anymore. A lot of exercise is hard not only because of my asthma, but now also because of my back.

So there's that.

Misc

Some other things that I still have no clue about:

My arms have always been really sensitive. My brothers would hardly touch me play punching me and it would hurt SO bad. They're still like that.

I have "weak ankles" like Megara says in Hercules. Or Kronk.

My right ankle started hurting really badly one day and didn't stop. We went to the doctor who said that I had probably sprained it. I wore an ankle brace for a while. It kind of helped. Except that I still get severe ankle pain sometimes. Not only in my right ankle, but in my left ankle as well. Sometimes one bothers me, sometimes the other, and sometimes both. I have a couple of ankle bandages that I wear occasionally when it's really bad. Not because anything is "wrong", but because my ankle just hurts.

Granted, I also have a cyst on one of my ankles, which doesn't help. It hurts to kneel on it.

Speaking of cysts. I also had one on the side of my head for years and years. I finally got it removed right before my mission. Only to have another one appear on the back of my head a few months into my mission. It's already at least the same size as the old one ended up. It doesn't really hurt most of the time, so I just ignore it. But what the?

Other than that, sometimes my legs will be really sore for seemingly no reason. Basically I just get a lot of random pain that doesn't really have an explanation. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia at one point, but then it was decided that that's not what I have after all. That's happened to me a lot. I've been diagnosed with so many different things, only to have it retracted later when the treatments for those things did nothing. So that's cool.


Anyway, this all seems kind of pointless at the moment, but I promise that this is really going somewhere. I'm not just listing off all of the ways that my body hates me just for funsies.

I hope that you are starting to see, though, how much chronic illness/pain really does interfere with everyday life. Because I think that that is what people really don't get. They don't get how a sickness that you can't see or treat can really screw up a person's life. They don't get that functioning as a normal human being is sometimes just really hard for those of us with chronic illnesses. People think that we're being weak and whiny, or else that we're faking and just trying to get out of things. But I know that for me at least, I have a huge desire to live a normal life. I WANT to be able to have a regular schedule, go on adventures, work hard, exercise, etc. But I can't always do those things because of my body. It's not that going to work or doing homework are my favorite things in the world, but feeling like I'm a competent human being that can work hard and progress in life is.

I'll delve more into all of that in Part Two, so hang in there and I'll get Part Two soon!

(To be continued...)

This Weekend

This has been a really big weekend for a few different reasons. June 15th was both the one year anniversary of my blog and the three month anniversary of Jonathan and I dating. And then today (as I start writing this at least) is Father's Day. I originally started writing a post just about the 15th, but I haven't really had time to write until now and I decided that I wanted to say a couple of things about Father's Day while I'm at it since it's today.

The anniversaries that were on June 15th both mark days that have changed my life forever and I really felt that today.

Before I started blogging, I was already pretty open about my ex being arrested and how it's affected me. But by following the prompting to start a blog, I invited Heavenly Father to inspire me over and over again with different posts that progressively delved deeper and deeper into everything that happened. Not just from the time of the arrest on, but all of the abuse that happened before the arrest. Starting a blog was the beginning of me doing my best to speak out about things that society skirts around that we really shouldn't. Starting it helped me to decide to change my major so that I could dedicate my studies to learning how to better help people that have suffered from abuse and addiction.

I've mentioned this before, but I've come to realize this past year or so that I learn the most by talking (or writing). I really struggle to sit and ponder about things and try to figure out how I feel. But I'll say things while talking to someone that either I really needed to hear or else I didn't realize that I felt that way about. I had a moment like that while talking to Jonathan where I realized- as I was saying it -that I wanted to be with him.

With all of that being said, blogging has been the best way for me to process everything that has happened and discover how much I've learned, how far I've come, and how far I still have to go.

That's all I'll say about my blogiversary for now.

Let's talk about Jonathan.

We gave you all a basic rundown of how we met, started dating, and decided to get married. So let me expand on all of that a bit more.

I know that our story sounds insane. We'd only been dating for about four weeks when we knew that getting married this summer was right, and for only one more week than that when we got engaged. There is still so much that we don't know about each other and we've been long-distance ever since the proposal and will be until pretty soon before the wedding. I was seriously hurt (to put it lightly) by a porn addict, and all of a sudden I'm engaged to another one that I've known for less than a year. I get that all of that sounds not only crazy, but down right stupid.

I get that because it's crazy to me and I would think that it's idiotic if I didn't know for sure that it's right.

In a previous post, I shared parts of a conversation that I had with Jonathan when we were just friends where I realized that I wasn't afraid to be close to porn addicts. I mean, I knew that to an extent because I had stayed close to people that I was already close to before the arrest that are addicts. But I realized that I was willing to let new people into my life that struggled with pornography as well.

What's interesting too is that earlier that semester, I had had a conversation with a good friend of mine where we ended up talking about whether or not I would ever be willing to consider marrying someone who struggled with pornography again. My friend said something to the effect of "I don't think that Heavenly Father would do that to you. I don't think that He would have you end up with a porn addict after everything that you've been through."

When she said that I kind of got this "Hold up" feeling and told her that I didn't think that that was something that I was going to be "protected" from. Not because Heavenly Father is sitting up there "muahahahaing" as He finds another addict to "inflict" me with, but because addicts are people. And just because I was severely hurt by one addict didn't mean that all repentant, fighting addicts had no chance to not only be with me, but make me extremely happy. Heavenly Father can't protect me from everyone that sins or struggles because there is not a single person out there that doesn't sin and struggle.

Anyway, then all of a sudden I had the thought that marrying a recovering addict could end up being a huge blessing for so many people. Because me getting up and speaking about my experiences is great. But me getting up and sharing my experiences of being abused by a porn addict and then having my husband get up and share his experiences with being a porn addict would be so much more powerful. Because then you get both sides of the story to an extent.

Obviously Jonathan is not my ex, so he can't exactly tell his side of the story, but he can talk about the difficulties of fighting addiction from experience. And together we can show people the very real happiness that is still available for both those who have been abused, and those who struggle with addiction.

My ex is the perfect example of what can happen if you lie about your addiction and don't get the proper help. My fiance is the perfect example of what can happen if you are honest and seek out help.

Anyway, that picture in my head of standing up with some faceless future husband and (hopefully) changing lives stuck with me. Not that that's the reason that I'm marrying Jonathan, but that conversation helped me to be open to dating him when the time came. Because it was finally solidified for me that I actually WAS willing to give another addict a chance. As long as he was truly fighting.

And let me tell you, my experience dating Jonathan is so completely opposite to my experience with my ex. My ex hid and lied about everything. He abused me in so many different ways and made me feel like anything bad that happened was my fault and that I deserved to be treated poorly.

My fiance is open and honest with me about his addiction. He treats me with an immense amount of love and respect that I no longer feel that I deserve because I'm still struggling to break out of the abuse mindset.

When I have an anxiety attack and am crying everywhere, I feel like I would totally deserve it for Jonathan to get upset at me and feel like I'm a huge burden and mess that he doesn't want to deal with right now. But he never, ever makes me feel that way. Not only that, but he literally believes that every time that I am struggling is simply an opportunity for him to love me more.

For example, I had a great day today! Until tonight. For reasons that I'm not going to get into right now, by the time Jonathan and I Skyped tonight, I was REALLY struggling emotionally.

All day I had been so excited to Skype him (as usual, but especially since today is Father's Day). I was going to try to look especially cute for him and was excited to talk to him about all of the reasons that I'm excited for him to be a dad.

What he got instead was me having the beginnings of a panic attack and sobbing uncontrollably.

I felt so bad that that was what he was getting for Father's Day; a miserable, hysterical fiance. Happy Father's Day to you Jonathan!

I felt that he would be totally justified in being disappointed that that was what he got. That it would make total sense for him to be frustrated at me for not being able to contain my emotions for two seconds so that he could end his Father's Day on a good note.

But he wasn't.

He was grateful to have the opportunity to love me more.

Is he even a real person? Is this real life? Who actually thinks and feels that way?

Jonathan. That's who.

And that's why I'm marrying him. Because there has never been a moment where Jonathan has made me feel the way that my ex did. But more than that, he exceeds (in more ways than I could ever describe) anything that I ever thought was possible.

I figured that someday (possibly years from now), when I was in a bit of a better place in my life, a man might potentially fall in love with me. But it wouldn't be until I was back to full functionality. It wouldn't be until I was steadily working and a full-time student again. It wouldn't be until my mental, emotional, and physical health were under better control. And when that guy did come into my life, he would love me enough to deal with any baggage that I still had laying around (because I knew that that crap wasn't just going to disappear).

Then in walks Jonathan. And he loves me right now, in the middle of my recovery process, as the mess that I am. And he doesn't just "deal with" my baggage. He begs me to let him carry some of it with me; to not carry it alone anymore. He doesn't like when I'm sad, but he does rejoice that he has an opportunity to deepen his love for me as he supports me.

Jonathan has an eternal perspective unlike anyone else that I've ever met.

He understands that I'm going to be healing for a very long time. Possibly forever. But he is willing to go through all of that with me because he thinks that I'm worth it. Because he loves me THAT much.

Jonathan doesn't see a broken mess. He sees someone who is being refined and built up into something greater and more beautiful than before. He sees so much more in me that I can see in myself.

Ever since Jonathan and I started to become friends, spending time with him, relying on him, opening up to him has just felt so natural. Where I would have felt anxious with others, I've always felt safe and comfortable with Jonathan. And I couldn't possibly stress enough how big of a deal that is for me.

Deciding to marry Jonathan so soon is not a decision that I made lightly.

Over those few weeks of us dating, I had ALL of the concerns. ALL of the anxiety.

What if we're not really compatible? What if he's lying about trying to recover? What if he ends up hurting me like my ex did? What if I'm not good enough for him? What if I end up in another abusive situation? Am I strong enough to not do that? What if I miss warning signs? What if I end up caring about him so much that red flags go over my head? What if what if what if?!

Oddly enough, what ended up giving me the most anxiety was actually how perfect he is for me.

No one can actually be this loving. I don't think that he's faking, but I think that there will be a point where all of my crap will get old. Where he'll realize that  "Wow, I DON'T actually want to deal with this anymore. It's way too much. This girl is messed up beyond what I can handle." And if he actually IS that good of a person, then he deserves SO much better than what I can give him. Someone this amazing deserves someone whole. He is too perfect. I can't keep putting him through this misery. I want him to be SO happy. He deserves ALL of the happiness. All I do is make his life harder. All I do is weigh him down. He deserves to be with someone that can measure up to the love and patience that he shows me. Someone this amazing can't possibly be content to be with someone like me for their whole lives. What if we get married and then he realizes a few years down the road that he wants more than what I can give him? He would be totally justified in that because he deserves more.

Holy exhausting anxiety Batman!

So believe me when I say that Heavenly Father had to seriously kick me in the pants to make me accept that marrying anyone so soon is the right thing to do. I wasn't kidding when I said that I wanted to take ALL the time to date and get to know Jonathan before marrying him. Dating was too scary. Marriage was too scary. I was freaking petrified when I thought of being vulnerable enough to fall in love again. To give my poor, fragile, cracked and healing heart to another person that could potentially shatter it again.

There was no WAY that I was going to take a decision like this lightly. And I didn't. And I don't.

If you could understand the depth of my fears, you wouldn't doubt my decision to marry Jonathan for a second. If you could see all of this through my eyes for even a second, you would know for sure that marrying Jonathan this summer would HAVE to be 112% the right thing to do for me to even consider it.

Going back to the "Holy Batman" anxiety though:

I've always struggled with self-esteem, but after being abused, I really struggle to believe that I could ever possibly deserve to be treated as well as Jonathan treats me. That I actually am worth all of the baggage. That it is possible for someone to see so much in me to love. Enough for them to want to be with me forever.

But Jonathan does! He really, truly does!

And even now, I struggle to believe that I can possibly deserve someone like him.

Jonathan is literally one of the most Christlike people that I have ever met. The love and respect that he shows me is unreal. Like, it is really hard for me to believe that he is a real person. It's like he's one of the three Nephites or something.

But he is real. And the love that he has for me is real. And the respect that he treats me with is real. And his desire to be with me FOREVER is real.

It's like Heavenly Father specifically prepared Jonathan to be my husband. Every experience, every hardship, every bit of growth that Jonathan has had in his life has shaped him into the person that I need. A person who is endlessly patient with me, doesn't see me as a burden or as broken, and only loves me more and more through every hardship.

And I know that Heavenly Father loves me, but that He loves me enough to hand-craft a spouse for me blows my mind.

I was thinking one night about the law of opposition and the concept of compensation. The law of opposition being that there is an opposition in all things. We can't be happy if we have never been sad. And the concept of compensation being that every trial that we go through will be compensated an hundredfold back in blessings.

I have been through some pretty gnarly trials. Let's say that I've been through level 5 billion trials between health problems, abuse, and felony. And Jonathan is the compensation for that. Which makes Jonathan a level 5 billion x 100 blessing.

What?!?!

THAT is pretty dang cool to me.

And he really is. He really is (at LEAST) a 5 billion x 100 blessing in my life. When I'm with him, I feel so safe, so comfortable, and so incredibly loved.

And that doesn't mean that the anxiety disappears completely when I'm with him. Because it doesn't.

When he came to visit for a week for us to get our engagement pictures taken and give the porn talk in choir, I ended up having major anxiety one night that resulted in him not being allowed to touch me for almost a good two hours. Not because of anything that he had done wrong. And keeping in mind that we hadn't seen each other in a month and wouldn't see each other again for another two (plus) months. We only had that one week together, and for two hours of it, he spent time with me without being able to touch me without causing my anxiety to spike.

And he didn't mind that. He wasn't upset that I wasn't "satisfying his need for physicality", which is how my ex always made me feel, resulting in sexual abuse. No, Jonathan was completely sweet and patient through the whole thing. Not even trying to hold my hand or anything without asking. And the times that I said that I wasn't ready for him to touch me yet, he was completely okay with that. And he looked for ways to comfort me that didn't involve touching me. Which can be kind of hard since most of the time when I'm sad or anxious, I really just need someone to hold me.

The amount of love that I felt coming from Jonathan during that time, though, was vast. My love for him grew so much in those couple of hours. In the midst of me feeling anxious.

And that's how I know that this is right. Because no matter what I'm feeling anxious about, Jonathan's presence is comforting to me. If I'm anxious about dating, the person that I'm dating is the one making me feel okay about it. If I'm anxious about physical touch, it's the person that I would usually be cuddling with that makes me feel better. That seems a bit paradoxical, but it's true with Jonathan.

And that's why all of this is coming together on Father's Day.

Because Father's Day is a day to reflect not only on your earthly father, but also your Heavenly Father, and on the important men in your life. And knowing that Jonathan is going to be the father of my children has made today really special for me in a way that it's never been before.

Because I can't imagine anyone else being my companion in life. Not only my husband, but my partner in parenthood. Underneath all of my fears about marriage and motherhood (because I'm SO excited to be a mom, but am also basically terrified), I honestly can't wait to see Jonathan be a dad. And not just A dad, but the dad of MY kids. I can't imagine traversing this crazy, tumultuous life with anyone else. Because I know that Jonathan is going to be right there by my side through every single trial, fear, and insecurity. I know that if anyone can help me to be the kind of mom that I want to be, it's him.

(There is so much that I could say about all of this future parenting stuff, but I won't because this is already long. I'm sure I'll end up writing about it later. Suffice it to say that since I struggle to take care of myself all the time, the thought of being responsible for a tiny baby human is scary. But as I sat in sacrament meeting today thinking about the Fatherly attributes of God, it was so easy for me to see those same attributes in Jonathan. And it made the prospect of being a mother even more exciting for me because I'm going to have the best dad at my side as well as my Father watching over me and my family. But I digress.)

My blog has focused so much on everything that happened to me that broke me and everything that I have gone through since to try to heal. And being with Jonathan has been the best thing that could ever have happened to me to help me in that healing process. I am able to be so much more because of him. Because God sent Jonathan to be my angel.

So on this weekend of my blog anniversary and mine and Jonathan's anniversary I just want to say that I will be forever grateful for all that my blog has done (and will continue to do) for me and all that Jonathan does for me (which is A LOT). And on this Father's Day, I want to give a shout out to my Heavenly Father who has been with me every single moment (and will continue to be there for me for every moment of the rest of my life), and for the man that He sent to be with me in all of those moments now too.

I literally could not ask for anyone better.

"Hearts Don't Break Around Here" (His Side of the Story)

This is my favorite photo, and up until this point,
Anna has beaten me to using it. When she had the idea for us to
write our respective sides of the story, she graciously let me have this one.

Every night I'll kiss you you'll say in my ear

Oh we're in love aren't we?

Hands in your hair, fingers and thumbs baby

I feel safe when you're holding me near

Love the way that you conquer your fear

You know hearts don't break around here

-Ed Sheeran

(Hey there! Anna here! This is the first blog post that I've ever had someone else write. Everything that you're about to read was written by my fiance, Jonathan. You will probably be hearing from him on occasion in the future as well.)

I was very much of the mind that I wouldn’t get married for 4-5 more years (not for lack of trying).

I am an introvert, and up until a year ago, I could count, on both hands, how many dates I had been on since I was 16 (the age my church recommends youth start dating).

I’m also a recovering porn addict, and not too successful at that. Not until a year ago.

Music runs deep in my family, whether through instruments or through voice. While my parents and most of my sisters play multiple forms of instruments, I stick mainly to voice (haven’t played piano or violin in 15+ years). I was always singing in the church choir, which my mom directed, and when I went to school, I, of course, enrolled in an auditioned choir.

I took one year of school, to obtain 15+ college credits, as proof of education (I was home schooled) so I could enlist in the United States Marine Corps, my childhood dream.

While the journey to become a Marine has been rewarding, there are some less than savory parts that do not help, namely the culture of Too Much Information (TMI). Oh yes, Marines are very…….free with what they tell you, and in detail to boot. Not a good thing to couple with a pornography addiction.

After completing training at the School of Infantry, I returned home to Ohio to work. I was really not in good shape, relapsing multiple times a day.

Fear ruled all. Within the church, there is a stigma against pornography; a taboo that you just never talk about. And those who become addicted to it? Sure, there are people who will shun you out of surprised ignorance. Why? Because they just don’t know how to handle it. Good for them, that they kept themselves pure from the taint of pornography. The downside is that they have no clue how to handle someone who has.

Do not misunderstand me, I am not advocating that you dabble in such filth. I am asking those who have remained steadfast, in not partaking, to lend an understanding mind to those of us who have fallen. Satan plays on the fear that you will be thrown out of the church, and hated by everyone, if you ever reveal your terrible secret.

Oh yeah, he had me on the ropes, for 16 years. All that time, I was trying to repent incorrectly. You know, have my cake, and eat it. Never truly confronting how bad it was, or speaking with the people who could help me the most. I felt isolated; alone, and forgotten.

While I might have been in bad shape, I did know that I still wanted to go back to school, so I reapplied, and came back for the Winter 2017 semester.

Boy had things changed. There was this new choir director, and I was skeptical at first. She was having us do all these funny exercises, and voice warm-ups; it was weird.

That semester, I had read in the school newspaper, that a student had been arrested for felony, for hiding cameras in his fiancée’s apartment. It was tragic, that he had let his addiction sway him so far, to hurt the person he was to marry, for time and all eternity. It was….really messed up (I would usually be more colorful, in my description of the situation). It was a realization that the Rexburg Bubble was just a myth. Trouble can be found, if you go looking for it.

If there is one thing you need to know about Sister Smith, it is that she has an enormous heart, and that she is very punctual. Having worked with her, now for a few semesters, I can say that she plans each rehearsal to the minute. Class starts promptly at 3:15, and it ends, just as suddenly, at 4:15, with very, very few exceptions.

We had a concert coming up and practice time was precious, with the difficult pieces we were learning. It was a surprise, when she stopped class, for 20 mins, to talk to us about the story in the school paper, and speak about the dangers of pornography addiction. She knew both the students in question; perpetrator and victim. Had worked closely with him, and knew him to be an outstanding student and a hard worker.

That day, she bore her heart out, in love. Plead with those who were struggling with addiction, to get help. To know that there were those around that were willing to help, at a moment’s notice, with love in their hearts. It left a deep impression on me, marking a turning point in my life. No longer would I live in fear. No longer would I care how much pain I would go through. To become clean again, that was my singular goal.

Our choir maintains a Facebook page, to help communicate any schedule chains, or practices notes. The next semester, I returned home to Ohio to work, and Sister Smith again talked to the choir about pornography. I only know this because a person reached out, over the choir page, to tell her side of the story. Her name was Annaliese Kretchman. She wanted everyone to know that she didn’t hate her ex-fiancé, although she had every right to. That she felt forgiveness, even though he had committed a crime.

I knew that she must be a special person to have been abused in such a way, but to love the gospel so much, not only to stay in the church, but to forgive her offender. Even so, I never thought that our lives would ever cross.

Coming back to school for Fall semester, I discovered that the choir was participating in the church’s Light the World campaign. Because our semester ends mid-December, we decided to start in October, till the end of classes. Sister Smith was forming a student council, to find and organize service opportunities, and was asking for volunteers, so I put my name in the hat.

Our first meeting was spent figuring out who would be in charge of different aspects of our service initiative. We had decided that we wanted a unique theme each week, spreading from those nearest you to people you didn’t know. Think Sphere of Influence. That meeting is when I heard her name, and saw her, in person; Annaliese Kretchman.

At the time, she was dating a wonderful guy (I can personally attest. I’m friends with him), and she looked so happy, standing next to him. I thought that resolution had occurred, and that she had moved on with life.

One of the last themes we introduced, was that of serving complete strangers; people you might see every day, passing them by. It’s a college campus, so there are plenty of people to serve. My partner and I traded off sharing a story of service, whether from the scriptures, or our personal lives, and the lot fell on me this time. The Spirit reminded me of line from Lord, I Would Follow Thee: “In the quiet heart is hidden sorrows that the eye can’t see.” I thought of all the people I pass on the streets. What wounds do they bear that I can’t see?

I approached Sister Smith about the spiritual prompting, and asked if I could give the porn talk, this semester. I was given the green light, with some suggestions and concerns that Sister Smith wanted me to cover.

I was nervous, wondering how I would talk to 250 students, about something that I was currently struggling with. The idea came to talk about first impressions, an oft heard discussion amongst education majors, with job interviews in mind. As Anna has said, I dressed up nicely that day, styled my hair (not a usual occurrence), and was clean shaven (a given at BYU-I). When asked about my own impression, I received nothing but positive feedback. Not hard, as Anna says I am "super attractive."

Then to hit them with the hammer, that I was still struggling with pornography addiction, after 17 years. That there were choir members with the same struggle, and many others who have crippling anxiety, PTSD, thoughts of suicide, and depression. That beyond what we can see on the exterior, there were many bleeding out from spiritual, mental, and emotional wounds.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, as a result, but what became reality was 250 choir members reaching out to each other; those who suffer, and those who don’t. That individuals realized that they weren’t alone in the fight, and true Disciples of Christ stood ready, with outstretched hands. It was an amazing sight.

As life went on in the semester, I officially met Anna, singing at an assisted-living facility. Nothing much happened then, but a week or so later I was standing by to ask Sister Smith something about an upcoming project. Anna was already speaking to her, and she had started to cry as Sister Smith hugged her. I decided to make myself scarce since it wasn’t my business to pry in to.

The next day we were volunteering at a local food pantry and Anna caught a ride out with my friend and I. A song started playing, and it was too much for Anna, who asked if I could change the song; she had started crying. I wasn’t sure what I should do, or could do, since I was driving. We finished the service project, and found out that she had ridden back with another friend who was also there, but that our service leader had forgotten to tell me, so there was 10 minutes of frantic searching and messaging before we found out that she was safely home.

We texted back and forth more that night, and somewhere in there we learned that she can make really good cookies, and I really love baking cinnamon rolls. How it happened, I’m not quite sure, but I offered to teach her, and she accepted. I immediately lost my crap, because I had just sort of asked her on a date. I say sort of, because the words that came out of my mouth were not “do you want to go on a date and make cinnamon rolls with me?”, but the result was the same.

I’m not kidding, I freaked out, and wrote Sister Smith a long email, immediately.

Admittedly, not much happened, besides making some really good cinnamon rolls, with one of her roommates there for comfort support. Our friendship began there.

Over the Christmas break, we continued to message, and I saw her post on FB saying that she needed a ride for herself and her brother, who she had finally convinced to come to BYU-I. She was down in Salt Lake, and I had gone to Oregon, to see my grandparents. At the time, I didn’t really know why, but I will go out on a limb and say that it was the Spirit. I felt like I needed to be the one to provide that ride, and I happily ponied up.

Let us be clear, Oregon, to SLC, to Rexburg, is not “On the way”. It’s something like +4 hours, and I had a military training weekend, in SLC. The smart decision would have been to not give the ride and just stay at my sisters, and go to drill. What I did was add more hours of driving, to go up to Rexburg, then immediately turn around, literally, not figuratively, and go back to SLC for training.

Totally worth it.

Mostly talked on the drive up and got to know her brother. Like the cinnamon rolls, nothing significant happened per se. We just got to know each other better.

Winter semester, Anna invited me into her friends group; watching Avatar: The Last Airbender, the Marbleympics during Oreo night, and other fun activities. I went to every one, and was often the last to leave. Yes, she thought I was weird, but hey, persistence pays off.

A very impactful night happened in the first weeks. She called me late at night, to give her a blessing for the coming semester. We talked a little about what was going on, and she confided that she had felt like a failure the previous semester when all the service projects were going on and she was sick during most of them. She felt like she was a burden and only took from other people and could never give back. It was heartbreaking, to see someone who survived mental, emotional, and sexual abuse, think of themselves as broken.

Except I did not see some broken object before me, nor did I see a burden. There is a Japanese art form, which uses gold dusted lacquer to repair broken ceramics, and pottery. It is important to note, that in doing so, not only is the object repaired, into whole form, but it is more beautiful than it was previously. It had to be broken first, in order to be made into a masterpiece. As for being a burden, that is how we become stronger. By bearing more weight, we better ourselves, and can lift more. Anna would always be a burden that I would happily bear.

That night, I was able to hold her, and comfort her, then give her a blessing from Heavenly Father that expressed his everlasting love for her. That He knew her, not in some general manner, as one of His children, but personally, by name; Annaliese Kretchman.

I can’t pinpoint the moment that I started liking her, but by this time I definitely liked her. I wanted to spend every minute of time that I could. I’ve even fallen asleep on her couch while she and her roommate were watching a Korean drama (maybe not the brightest thing I’ve ever done).

I wanted to ask her on date, and knew that I needed to confront my addiction head-on. I couldn’t date her and be relapsing daily. It was hard (oh boy, it was hard), but I went clean for 2 weeks, before asking her. I talked to her brother to see if it was kosher, and he revealed that Anna had already been wondering when I would ask her out. When I did, she looked a panicked, as she said yes. She told me, straight up, that she was, and would, feel very anxious, and I needed to prepare myself if I wanted to date her.

We had many more conversations about her anxiety, in the weeks leading up to the date. I was preparing for a total meltdown, or just having to give her some space. Whatever it was, I was gearing up for a wild ride.

And then the ride didn’t happen. We went to The Greatest Showman (I do not endorse going to a movie as your first date, but it worked for us), and I sort of knew what the movie was about, but it wasn’t until the songs started, that I realized that it would be deeply emotional for Anna.

First she rested her head on my shoulder, then she put her hand on my arm, so I put my hand on hers.  Halfway through the movie, I felt like I should just hold her hand, but I wasn’t quite sure.

Confession time: I had never held a woman’s hand before. I hadn’t been in a serious relationship either. I was on my own for this one.

She reached for her bag to grab some tissues and I decided to Hail Mary it; *schwoop!* I held her hand…and she was ok with it. We held hands and cuddled for the rest of the movie.

Now, something you need to know about my family; we LOOOOOOOVE to critique movies. When the credits roll and we’re waiting for some of dem delicious post-credit scenes, we are actively talking about what we liked, how hot the main character is, which song was our favorite, and the list goes on.

As the credits start, Anna turned to me, and I was fully expecting a rundown of the movie. “Jonathan, I didn’t fell anxious at all!” Well, good-bye my heart.

I think that I knew then, that if I could help her feel that way; free, happy, and safe, that I would marry her.

We had originally planned to go hiking, but weather and health nipped that in the bud, but I had promised her that we would talk for the same amount of time we would have been in the car: 2+ hours.

We decided on the dunes, because there’s a scene in the movie, where PT Barnum talks to his future wife on a beach. No beaches in Rexburg, but we could at least get the sand. We walked for few hours, and got to know each other better.

Important to Anna was knowing why I cared for her. This was hard for me to answer for a couple reasons. 1) I am an introvert and I don’t talk if I don’t have to, 2) I am a very private person. Ask my mom. I hardly tell my family anything that is going on in my life, and 3) There is a sacrifice you make to earn the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor of the United States Marine Corps.

While they may not kill your heart, they certainly train you out of your inner most feelings. I had lost touch with my most tender emotions, and consequently have a hard time explaining them.

I knew that I cared about Anna, immensely, but at the time, I didn’t specifically know why.

Then, we were dating.

Like, dating dating.

Sure, there were still anxiety filled moments. Lots of crying on my shoulder, hugging, and comforting. There was also happiness. I had only known Anna since she had been abused. Sure, she could be happy, but there was always an undercurrent of sadness and worry.

I saw her transform into someone who had survived an abusive relationship, to someone who would take a chance on me, a sinner. She became free and radiant as our relationship deepened.

As the semester neared its end, we began to feel like we would probably get married, and if we did, it would be waaaaaay down the line. We had talked about the end of Winter, before realizing that we wouldn’t want to wait that long, so we started talking about the end of Fall semester, and having our first Christmas together, as husband and wife.

Then Revelation Sunday happened, and that all changed reaaaaaally quickly. Suddenly, with the confirmation of the Holy Ghost, we were getting married at the end of summer.

Originally, I thought I had to be back in Ohio, pronto, for military training, but through a gaff of my own, it turns out that I didn’t and I could stay a little longer. I thought it was such a blessing, to spend one more week with Anna, but it turns out it was because we needed to plan a wedding.

Oh, we sure thought it was going to be a relaxing week…not. We hardly slept and we napped hard.

Now, it’s time to talk about the proposal.

An interesting thing is that Anna still has the rings and dress from her previous engagement. She had picked them out, and designed them in the case of the rings, and they have personal meaning to her. Her ex just paid for them.

They were being stored at a friend’s house down in Utah, and we were heading down that weekend to go to a mutual friend’s wedding in Manti. We had discussed whether we wanted to use the same rings or get new ones. I had read a post from Anna about how she had chosen and designed the ring, and the symbolism that it had, and felt good about using it still. We decided to re-dedicate the ring, in prayer, to our marriage.

After picking up the dress and rings, we headed up towards Manti. We were just passing through Spanish Fork, going up into a beautiful mountain pass. It was pretty late at night, and the sky was clear. We were having a heart-to-heart, and things were getting heavy.

You see, I wasn’t planning on proposing for a few more days. Anna had wanted it to be a surprise, and for someone to be there to take pictures. Well, she got one of those.

So there we were! Beautiful country and a starlit night, having a deep conversation. We had just passed one of those scenic overlook pull-offs, and the Spirit told me to stop at the next one and propose. After all, stars are Anna’s favorite thing.

She had just asked “What are you thinking about right now?” right as I found a suitable place to pull over. We finished the conversation, then asked if we could get out and dedicate the ring. I saw a shooting star as I got out, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what my wish was. Anna will probably tell you more of the exact moment, but I will say that I watered her with my tears. After finishing the prayer, I turned to her and very simply asked her to be sealed to me, for time and all eternity.

It was perfect, and not even by my design. The last time she had asked someone “What are you thinking?” things went to hell in a handbasket, and abuse happened/was happening. This time, true love was there, and the Spirit to witness to us that we were doing the right thing.

And the rest? Well, that story is still being written.

Ps- We had the amazing opportunity to kick off the porn speech together in choir this semester. You can watch it here.

Wait, What? (My Side of the Story)

I'm letting him use our favorite picture of us this time because I'm a nice person.
So I'll settle for this one of us laughing. Even though you can't see his eyes.
Look at that smile though! And doesn't he look fabulous in uniform?
Love ya hon! ;)

Once upon a time, I got engaged and everyone was taken by surprise including me.

Hold up. What? What do you mean it took YOU by surprise Anna?

Well. Let me tell you.

Approximately 28 years ago, a boy named Jonathan Laulusa was born. Exactly four years and two months later, a girl named Annaliese Kretchman was born.

And the rest is history.

Okay, okay, there's more to it than that. I'm just not even sure where to start.

Let's start here.

I have PTSD. (Duh, we know that already).

I have PTSD, and so dating is basically terrifying for me. (We already knew that too).

I have PTSD, and so dating was basically terrifying for me until all of a sudden, it wasn't anymore.

And that didn't happen when I started dating Jonathan. Or my last boyfriend. It didn't stop being scary until Heavenly Father kicked me in the pants.

Wait.

What?

Let me legit explain now that I've obfuscated enough.

So Jonathan and I met during a service activity for choir. He was the one driving everyone.

The second interaction was similar, only with more tears.

We were driving to go volunteer at a food bank and I was sad. My awesome ex boyfriend had just broken up with me, and so all of the sadness that had been kept partially at bay while we were dating was flooding over me again. The song playing on the radio really set me off, and I asked Jonathan (who as far as I knew knew nothing about me or my story) to change the song.

That's the night that we started talking. He basically asked me if I was okay, told me that he noticed that I was struggling, etc. And I just unloaded everything on him. This random choir kid that I didn't know literally at all. And he was super nice about all of it.

We hung out once that semester. He offered to teach me how to make bomb homemade cinnamon rolls and I accepted... And immediately was nervous about it. It wasn't a date, but the thought of spending one-on-one time with a guy that I didn't know was asking too much of my anxiety. So I had a friend come and just be there in the kitchen with us while Jonathan was there so that we weren't alone.

And that was pretty much it for Fall semester. We made cinnamon rolls once, messaged each other a bit over Thanksgiving break, and talked a teensy bit in passing at choir rehearsals.

I'm not sure if this was before or after we first met, but at some point in the semester, Jonathan gave a speech in choir.

Every semester, my amazing choir director gives a porn talk during rehearsal. This started the semester that my ex-fiance was arrested and has occurred every semester since.

So this past Fall semester, Jonathan was the one who started the conversation. He dressed really nicely that day, stood in front of all of us, and asked people to give their impressions of him. Hands went up and people gave lots of really positive impressions. Jonathan then went on to talk about how everyone has things about them that are not easy to see. Struggles with depression, suicidal tendencies, etc. He said that we looked at him and saw all of these good things, but would never guess that he had a 17 year struggle with pornography. And then the porn talk went on from there, as well as talking about unknown trials in general.

So I knew from the start that Jonathan is a (now recovering) porn addict.

Moving on.

Jonathan continued to message me quite a bit over Christmas break. He always seemed concerned about how I was doing and it was pretty easy to talk to him. I honestly still felt a bit of an aversion to him though simply because I felt like he might be starting to like me and I didn't want him to because the thought of someone that I didn't know before everything happened liking me scared me a lot.

At some point during break, I posted on Facebook that I was looking for a ride back to Rexburg for me and my brother. Jonathan commented that he could swing by "on his way back from Oregon" and pick us up.

Um. We were in Utah. Not exactly on the way home from Oregon.

So I told him that I'd keep looking.

Someone else commented that they might be able to drive us, but Jonathan ended up being to one to do it in the end.

After a four(ish) hour long drive with him, I decided to let him into my friend group. (Not that it takes much for me to do that as I invite pretty much anyone that I can think of to anything that I host. I don't like to think that I'm leaving anyone out and I want to make sure that everyone has friends to do things with. No one should ever be alone if I have anything to say about it).

So I started inviting him to my games nights and things and he always came. And he would often be the last to leave.

I, again, got the feeling that he liked me and I didn't like that. I thought that he was really nice, but kind of weird.

We always hung out in groups though, so we didn't talk as much one on one for a bit. But then he started to become one of the people that I would go to when I was struggling. And he just cared for me so much, so obviously.

I didn't understand it. It made more sense with my other friends who had known me since before the arrest, but this guy had only known me since I'd been a hot mess. And yet he clearly cared a lot about me and wanted to help me as much as he possibly could.

(The conversation that inspired my You're a Person, Not an Addict post occurred in this time. It was with Jonathan if you haven't already guessed that).

I knew that he would ask me out at some point and I felt bad about it because I still didn't really feel like I liked him. I had started to feel like I maybe (possibly) liked him a little bit, but I was super unsure about it.

Eventually he did ask me out. I said "Sure!.......... You know that I'm going to be a ball of anxiety the whole time though, right?"

This was going to be my first date (with someone that I hadn't already known) since my ex-fiance. And that was SUPER scary for me.

Oddly enough, I actually ended up going on my first-date-with-someone-that-I-hadn't-already-known with a different guy from choir just the weekend before my date with Jonathan. It came totally out of the blue. I was super anxious during/after that date, so fully expected the worst from my date with Jonathan.

We had a few heart to hearts in between him asking me out and us actually going on the date. My interest in him grew in that time, but I was still hesitant.

We were originally going to go hiking, but then my health and the weather ruined that. So we resorted to the worst first date; going to see a movie. But decided to also just go somewhere afterwards and just talk since we would have had plenty of time to talk if we had been hiking.

We saw The Greatest Showman and were literally the only two people in the theater. That made me feel a little bit anxious, but not bad at all. It was actually kind of nice because then we could talk during the movie as much as we wanted.

Jonathan ended up holding my hand during the movie and I was actually okay with it. We cuddled a bit for the rest of the movie and I thoroughly surprised myself when I honestly told him during the credits that I hadn't felt anxious at all.

It's like I kept waiting for the anxiety to kick in as soon as Jonathan held my hand. But then it just... didn't. I felt completely safe and comfortable with him, and that's not something that really happens with me at this point.

After the movie we went to the dunes and just walked and talked. I explained all of the reasons that dating me would be really hard. And he did his best to explain to me why he cared about me so much; a question that I had asked him one night when he was comforting me.

Next thing I know, we're dating.

Like, dating dating.

I hadn't expected that. But it felt right. I felt so safe when I was with him, and I loved how much he clearly cared for me despite all of my baggage.

Jonathan has always been SO patient with my anxiety. The first few weeks of us dating was a lot of me going back and forth about whether it was right or not and being super anxious because PTSD. And he was perfectly content to have the same conversations with me every day. Reassuring and calming me down every day.

After only a couple of weeks of us dating, we already started to feel like we would probably end up getting married at some point. I wanted to date for a really long time first so that I could feel 100% sure. My anxiety did NOT like the idea of putting myself in a position to be hurt again. I wanted to know everything about Jonathan. I wanted him to know everything about me. I wanted us to see each other in every situation. Basically, I wanted to take ALL of the time before getting married.

And he was perfectly okay with waiting.

He definitely knew before I did that we were for sure going to get married. For me, it was more of a "probably" kind of thing.

We talked about possibly getting married at the end of the next Winter semester. So in a year.

That would give us more time to date- both long distance and in person -and to be really sure.

After a while though, I knew that- realistically -if we were going to get married, we wouldn't end up wanting to wait that long. So we speculated end of Fall instead. That would give us about 8 months. Even that seemed really intimidating and fast to me.

Now let me tell you about finals weekend of last semester.

Friday and Saturday were emotional roller coasters for me. My anxiety was through the roof about various things. I would go from feeling really happy and reveling in Jonathan's amazingness to feeling like there was no way that us being together made sense or would ever work out because there was no way that I deserved someone as incredible as him.

I had multiple cry sessions all over Jonathan in those two days. A couple on his kitchen floor, one in the car in front of Broulim's, etc.

Friday, after my second cry-sesh of the day, Jonathan had finally calmed me down once again and we were just chatting. We got talking about his eventual wedding (whether with me or someone else) and he started talking about different resources that he had with decorations and DJ equipment and such.

J: "I could DJ the wedding!"

Me: "You canNOT DJ your own wedding!"

J: "Why not?"

Me:*Exasperated look* "Because, you have to mingle with the guests, dance with your wife....."

And then it hit me. His wife was going to be me.

Oh man you should have seen me. A sentence that started out berating him turned into me freaking out (in a good way this time) because it had just been confirmed to me that I was going to be his wife. I couldn't stop laughing. I was completely ridiculous.

The poor dear was so confused. It came absolutely out of nowhere. He was fine with it though because he already knew that we were going to get married, he had just been waiting for my anxiety to shut up enough for me to realize it too.

Even after my come-to-Jesus moment of figuring out that I was, in fact, going to marry Jonathan Laulusa, my anxiety did not shut up.

And so Saturday was another day of going back and forth between being super excited that I knew who I was going to marry and being terrified that I would never measure up to him.

He did EVERYTHING for me. And all I did was cry on him all the time.

I felt like he deserved so much better than a sad little broken Anna.

Then came what we call "Revelation Sunday."

Because of my anxiety attacks, Jonathan and I got very little sleep Saturday night. As such, we weren't sure if we'd make it through all three hours of church. I literally woke up just in time to brush my teeth, but a dress on, grab a Pop Tart, and bike to church. I got there running on no food and almost no sleep.

And yet when the speakers started speaking, I was all of a sudden hit with a TON of revelation. Reassurances that marrying Jonathan was right, that I was more than good enough, that I needed to be okay with him helping me so much, etc. The speaker would say one thing and I would write a full page of seemingly unrelated notes. And then I would look up, catch another line or two of someone's talk and then be off writing again.

After sacrament meeting, we decided to try to at least push through Sunday School. So we get settled into our seats, I whip out my Pop Tart, give on of the two in the package to Jonathan, and start eating mine. After a couple of bites, a member of the bishopric informs us that there was a mix up and they didn't have someone to teach the class. And my poor, sleep-deprived self raised my hand and said that I would teach. I gave a wistful glance to my still-almost-completely-whole Pop Tart and went up to the front.

I had no idea what I was going to teach about, so I asked for a volunteer for the prayer. After the prayer, I was still unsure, so I just asked some basic questions to gauge what was needed. So I started teaching and then partway through was hit with what I really needed to teach. And it wasn't for the students. It was for me.

Yet another reassurance that I was enough and that I was doing more for Jonathan than I felt.

In Relief Society (after scarfing down the rest of my Pop Tart), I received a few more little nuggets of inspiration.

After church we napped for a good two hours or so and then reconvened to pack Jonathan's car to go to Ohio.

At one point, we took a break from packing. We sat and talked some more about our eventual marriage. We'd been praying together every night since the beginning of our relationship and had prayed a lot to know when the right time to take next steps were.

Even though we both knew that getting married to each other was right, I still wanted to take plenty of time to just date before actually getting married. That seemed only fair after everything that I've been through.

Anyway, we sat and talked about timing and what not and then eventually I suggested that we finish packing. Jonathan got really thoughtful though and suggested that we should say a prayer. So I kind of shrugged and then knelt with him in front of the couch.

Well.

As soon as he started to pray, I got a thought. A thought that I then spent the rest of the prayer trying to pretend didn't happen.

The thought that came to me was that we should get married this summer.

Excuse me?

Um. No.

So I argued with myself for the rest of the prayer; telling myself that there was no way that that was a prompting and that I should just forget about it.

But then... I definitely didn't want to get married that soon. And we had never talked about getting married that soon. Jonathan had never pushed me to consider getting married any sooner than a year from now. End of Fall had been my idea and then felt okay when we prayed about it in our family prayers at night.

So where did that thought come from?

Jonathan finished praying and I didn't move. I was still arguing with myself. Really, I was arguing with God. Heavenly Father, this is scary. I love Jonathan and want to marry him, but NOT that fast. 

Jonathan said that I didn't move for a good 15 seconds or so.

Eventually I looked up at him and told him (very begrudgingly) the prompting that I received.

Needless to say, he was very surprised to hear that come out of Anna-the-Anxious's mouth.

But here's the thing guys. We then both felt REALLY good about it.

We prayed about it some more and it just felt right.

And all of a sudden I didn't feel anxious about marrying him anymore. And I haven't since.

After ALL of the anxiety of the two previous days, all of a sudden I was good.

Heavenly Father had to make everything stupid clear for me to get there, but I got there.

The night that my ex was arrested, I got a blessing from one of my best friends. In the blessing, he said that I would "confidently know" when I found the right person for me. And oh boy I have clung to that like a sloth to a branch.

All through dating my ex boyfriend and all through dating Jonathan I would pray and remind God that He had told me that I would confidently know.

I'm not generally one to ask for signs or whatever, but I was definitely asking for one here.

Heavenly Father, this whole dating/marriage thing is terrifying. I want to have love again, but I need it to be right this time. I can't take anymore heartbreak. You told me that I would "confidently know." Please make that happen. Please help me to be SO sure when it's right. Because otherwise I'll literally go back and forth over it for the rest of my life.

I think that I actually used the phrase "I need you to make it stupid clear" in one of my prayers.

And He did.

He made it stupid clear in a way that I definitely wasn't expecting at all. He told me to get married in about four months when I thought that I was going to be doing long distance with Jonathan for five.

Okay, so this is really long, so I'm going to wrap up my side of the story now. I'll let Jonathan cover the proposal and everything since I've already written so much. But be assured that I will absolutely write more about all of this later. I know that all of this sounds completely insane. I know that I just went from being afraid of dating to being engaged. I know that most of you didn't even know that I was dating someone.

Literally, I know.

I've told you what happened, but I plan to go a bit more in depth with the process of everything in later posts. Clearly an awful lot has happened in the last month or so (which is why I've been so terrible at posting), so it's going to take more than one post to really cover everything.

Hopefully this will satisfy everyone's curiosity for the moment though. I've had a lot of people demanding to know what the heck happened ever since I posted on Facebook that I'm engaged. Which is fair, since most of you didn't even know that I was dating anyone.

Anyway, there's my side of the story for you. Next post should be his side of the story, and then I'll elaborate a bit more on everything.

Until next time!

Ps- We had the amazing opportunity to kick off the porn speech together in choir this semester. You can watch it here.

If It Makes You Feel Better

As I write this, I'm sitting on the couch eating ice cream as a reward for doing my homework. My reward was supposed to be watching Star Wars with one of my best friends, but I took too long, so here we are.

So let me tell you how the last few hours have gone.

I told myself that I wouldn't do anything social until I did my homework. But I've been SUPER tired as my body is trying to adjust to working again, and now being in classes again as well. And I didn't get much sleep the last couple of weeks because I've been wedding planning. (We'll get to that soon, PROMISE).

So I decided to take a nap before trying to tackle homework.

But then my roommates and I ended up having a little beginning-of-the-semester pow-wow since we were all home. By the time we were done, the timer that I had set to wake me up from my nap before going out the living room was going off. Cool.

So I shut it off and then ACTUALLY took a nap. And snoozed my alarm twice.

Finally got up. I decided to take a shower so that I would feel nice and clean, and also hopefully wake up a bit more.

Basically, I was trying to mentally and emotionally prepare myself to do my homework.

Pathetic, no?

So I had a jam-out session in the shower and then FINALLY sat down to do my homework.

It was literally just some reading for my religion class. Not much at all.

But it took me about two hours of mental prep and maybe an hour or so of unfocused reading to finish it.

Oh boy.

So if you're having a rough day here's this:

If it makes you feel any better, I just took three hours to read about 15 minutes worth of religion homework.

Here's the thing guys; I've been SO much happier the last couple of weeks. And because of that, I think that I've kind of had that on-top-of-the-world feeling. Which is great! But then I basically got slapped with the reality-stick. That awesome feeling made me forget that even though I'm happy, I'm still not really a functioning human being yet.

And that's okay.

I'm happy. I'm preparing to marry the most amazing man that exists. I have a job again. I'm back in some classes. I still can't focus to save my life. I'm exhausted. It takes me forever to pump myself up enough to do a single reading assignment. But you know what? I'm making progress.

I'm not where I wish that I was, but I'm a lot farther than I thought that I would be anytime soon.

Happiness ≠ Functionality

But being functional doesn't always equal happiness either. We simply have to work with what we've got.

This is all a work in progress. And I AM making progress.

So I guess that's all I can really ask for.

Ps- Yes, I am engaged. Yes, it came out of nowhere. Yes, I promise that I will be writing about that soon! Things have been pretty hectic, which is why I haven't posted in so long, and now I'm back in classes, so things are still hectic. But I'm working on it and I will have something up as soon as I can!