I'm a Fixer

I recently realized something about myself and I feel like it kind of sums up who I am. 

I am a fixer.

When I see something that's not working, broken, needs some help, etc. I want to fix it. I want to make it better. 

For example, I was staying with my brother last week and his sink was draining really slowly. So I took the pipes underneath apart and used an old toothbrush to reach up and try to pull out any hair, grime, whatever. I couldn't get the pipe that goes straight down from the drain off though, and so in the end it still drained slowly because that's probably where most of the junk was stuck. And that frustrated me.

It makes me think of the movie Robots. You know, "See a need, fill a need!"

That's what I do. 

I see a shower that's not draining properly? I take out my tweezers and I fix it. I see a wobbly chair? I pull my bike tool out and I fix it. Screw loose on a drawer knob? Same. Fixed.

I see someone in need of help moving? I'm there. All day. Cleaning, packing, carrying boxes that no one believes that I can lift, etc.

I see a friend struggling? That one can be a lot harder, but I do my best to help them. I do my best to fix it.

I'm glad that I'm a fixer. Fixers are often great at serving others, taking initiative, and leaving things better than they found them. But there's something really difficult about being a fixer.

You can't fix everything.

That doesn't stop you from trying. But that just makes it all the more frustrating when something just won't "fix." Like that drain.

There's a satisfaction that you get when you see a problem and then fix it. Like you know that you just did something worth doing for at least a sliver of your day and you made something better because of it.

On the flip-side, it is equally (if not more) DISsatisfactory when the thing that you try to fix simply won't.

We had to put my cat down today. I couldn't fix her. I couldn't do anything except for cuddle her for a while as the sedatives kicked in. 

I hated that.

I have a friend who is just so negative all the time. I try to help him. I try to help him see the bright sides of things, find ways to improve his situation, or see things from a different perspective. But he just won't. And it kills me. It kills me because someone that I care about is struggling and he is resisting every attempt to help him, but then keeps coming back asking for help.

I just want to "fix" him. I don't want to fix his situation because trials are how we learn. But I want to fix his learning curve. I want to help him to learn things that I've learned from my trials by helping him through his. But I can't "fix" him. We're very different people. We've lived very different lives, were raised differently, and think and feel differently.

Really you can't "fix" people at all.

But it sure doesn't stop me from trying.

When things originally started going downhill with my ex-fiance, I thought that if I could just be better, then it would all be okay in the end. I was being mentally, emotionally, and even sexually abused and I didn't know it. 

But then he actually did seek out help from the bishop, a counselor, doctors, etc. He seemed to be working hard and making a ton of progress. I was there to support him, but he chose to finally reach out for help. I thought that he was getting better. I was wrong.

Right when everything seemed like it was finally looking up; that things really were going to work out; that he was better (because he really did seem to be, I was no longer being abused, or at least, not that I could tell), that's when he was found out and thrown in jail.

I had wanted so badly to fix him. To fix our relationship. To make everything better. Because things started out so wonderfully and I loved him so very much. I firmly believe that any relationship can be fixed as long as both people are working together to fix them. And it seemed like he was putting in the effort, and I was certainly putting in the effort, but it didn't work out anyway.

And I'm not saying that our relationship couldn't have been fixed. But what I am saying is that it wasn't up to me alone. He chose not to be completely "fixed." He decided to keep secrets, and lie, and manipulate. 

I couldn't fix him because he had to be the one to fix himself. Or at least, him and the Savior. 

There was only so much that I could do.

No matter how hard I try, I can't fix everything and that's hard. 

I hate that I can't fix people's addiction, depression, pain and suffering. It drives me crazy because my natural instinct is to wear myself out trying to fix it and the rational part of me is telling me that I can't. 

I hated watching my cat die this morning when she's been there for me for years. I hated that I could do nothing about it.

I hate that my ex-fiance is in jail right now. I hate that I couldn't do anything to prevent that. I know that it's not my fault, but it doesn't stop the occasional "but maybe if I just did ______ or didn't do ______" then everything would have gotten better. HE would have gotten better. It would all be okay.

And that's because I'm a fixer.

You see, fixers often didn't break what they are trying to fix. They found it that way. And yet they still feel responsible for it being broken if they aren't able to fix it. The sink wouldn't drain. I tried to fix it. It still wouldn't drain. So now it's my fault that it won't drain. At least, that's how it feels.

My ex came to me broken. I had no idea. But as the cracks started to appear, my natural instinct was to make everything better. To fix him. And I couldn't. And I didn't. And so he shattered and I got cut up by the pieces. And it's not my fault but sometimes it feels like it is.

And that's because I'm a fixer.

Another issue with being a fixer is that I can't even always "fix" myself. I have multiple chronic medical problems and they're the type of medical problems that don't really have solutions. I take medicines and everything and they help, but they don't fix it. I take sleep medicine for my insomnia and I still sleep horribly much of the time. I take medicine for depression, but I'm still depressed a lot of the time. Etc, etc, etc.

I hate that I can't just get over, or "fix," my medical problems. And I really hate that they often prevent me from functioning to my full capacity because that means that I can't help fix other things either. I love to serve others, be productive, etc. and I can't do that very well if I'm sick in bed. 

When I sprained my wrist last year, my friends were amazed that I was still offering to help carry groceries and such. I would always just say "I can still use this arm!" I hated that I couldn't use the other one though and so I slowed down my own recovery process by using it sometimes when it wasn't ready to be used.

I hate that I can't "fix" my PTSD. I hate it because it is slowing me down in so many ways. 

Not being able to fix myself is one of the hardest things I think. Because while it's hard to not be able to fix others that are struggling, I know that I can only do so much before they need to take over. But with me, I'm the one that's supposed to take over. Me and Christ. 

But some things aren't meant to be completely fixed on this earth and that's hard. And some things take a long time to fix. And that is also hard. As a fixer I just want to find the problem, fix it, and move on to the next one. Instead I'm working on lots of problems that won't fix.

If you are a fixer, you are a great person. You have a huge heart and impressive determination. Don't stop being a fixer! But also realize that some things need to be put down, still broken, and left behind. Because the world won't end because my brother's sink is still clogged. And maybe someone else will fix it! I can't be the fixer of all things. And that's okay.

As a fixer, it's hard to let things go. It's hard to push away guilt that something's broken and shame that you couldn't fix it.

But there is so much good about being a fixer. I'm glad that I'm the one who helps clean up after events. I'm glad that I reach out to people that are struggling. I'm glad that I do my best to leave things better than I found them. I'm glad that while I'm not able to "fix" people, I can at least slab on some glue at times to help hold them together just a little bit longer. 

The whole reason I started this blog is because people have messaged me, thanking me for my Facebook posts. Telling me that I've helped them through things that they are struggling with.

I can't fix their problems. I can't make it all better. But I can help. I can clear away some debris and help them find the pieces of their lives the best way that I know how. I can't put the pieces back together for them. But I can do an awful lot to help them prepare to repair themselves with the help of Jesus Christ. And that simply has to be enough for this fixer.

The Quilt Analogy

In Relief Society today the teacher started the lesson by asking us to recount an experience where we worked really hard at something and how we felt through the process and when we finished.

I shared my experience with making a baby quilt for my nephew that I've never met. You see, every year for Christmas, we draw names so that if we're too poor to buy presents for every family member, we'll at least be getting one for one of them. The year that I made the quilt, I drew my oldest brother and his wife. The marrieds are always kind of hard to buy for, so 18 year old me did a total cop out and decided to do something for my nephew that was on the way instead.

Some crazy part of my brain decided that I wanted to make a baby quilt. Understand that I was (and am) terrible at sewing. The only things that I had ever sewn all by myself were super simple for my FACS classes. But my mom used to always make quilts for new babies and my sister had made a couple as well and she seemed to really enjoy it.

So I looked through the piles of fabric in Mom's sewing room and picked out a simple pattern. My mom told me every single thing to do but I did it all by myself. I cut the fabric, sewed the pieces together, tied it, everything. Well... everything but the stupid binding that I tried to put on about 12 times and just couldn't get. I finally conceded and let Mom do it instead.

But that's not the point.

I had done the whole rest of it!... As my mom told me each and every step... But still!

Man oh man you should have seen my face when it was finished. I was giddy. Like, completely over-the-moon ecstatic. I was quite thoroughly ridiculous.

The quilt sat on the table for a few days waiting to be packaged up and sent to Texas. While it sat there, every time I saw it my face would light up. I would be eating a meal at the other table and would just gaze at my charming little quilt with pride.

I mean look at it! Is that not the most incredible thing that you have ever seen in your life?!?!?!  I MADE that! It was magnificent. It clearly belonged in the Guggenheim, or the Louvre, or somewhere!

I had sewn the best quilt that had ever been created.

Obviously not really, but that's sure how it felt! It was the coolest creation in the world because I had made it! I had worked hard on that thing! I made a quilt during one of the most difficult times of my life (see previous blog post). I made it even though I don't know how to quilt and can hardly sew in a straight line. I finished it even though I got frustrated at it (and myself) and even though it was hard for me to do.

And that's what made it so incredibly special to me. I felt so freaking accomplished for making that one little baby quilt. I loved that thing and was so sad to finally package it up and send it away.

Back to Relief Society.

As I shared this story, I thought about how proud I was of that quilt and how much I loved it. And then I had this thought:

If I felt that much joy, and love, and pride over an inanimate object, then how much more joy, and love, and pride does Heavenly Father feel when He looks down on us?

I just picture Him looking down on one of His children and remembering placing each and every freckle on their face. I think of how my own freckles are only really visible during the summer but how I'm sure that Heavenly Father knows where each and everyone is even during the winter.

Can you imagine carefully putting together cells and veins and eyelashes and little toes and fingers and then placing a real live spirit into it? Can you imagine the look on His face when He looks at you?

You are a masterpiece that took intricate, skilled craftsmanship. And even though yours isn't the first living soul that He created, He loves you just as much as He loves His first. He gazes down at you with just as much pride and joy.

Each and every one of us is a masterpiece.

My sister-in-law told me the other day that my sweet nephew sleeps with the quilt that I made him every night, even four years later. That made me so ridiculously happy.

I hope that someday when I finally get to meet him, I will see that beautiful quilt totally worn out from use. Because that means that the thing that I created was loved and used for a very long time. And even when the bright colors have faded and there are stains and frays, I will love that quilt because I made it.

Heavenly Father feels for us what I feel for that quilt, but times about a bajilllion (that's an exact measurement by the way ;))

He will look down at us with a heart bursting with love even when we've dragged ourselves through the dirt a few times and have worn ourselves down. He loves us with our bumps and bruises and scars.

At devotional this past Tuesday, the speaker (Kirk Rawlins) said:

Nothing is more important to Him than you. Isn't that wonderful?

It's so incredible to me to look up at the stars- or at the intricacies of the anatomy of a flower -and to think that all that has ever been created exists for US. Each plant, animal, natural phenomenon-literally everything -was created for us to use, learn from, or enjoy. All that was ever created pales in comparison to the creation of YOU.

I don't know about you, but I think that that is pretty dang neat.

It's Okay to Not Know What You're Doing

So anyone who knows me really well knows that something that I talk about a lot is trusting in the Lord. Trust in the Lord is what keeps me functioning. Trust in the Lord is what helps me to not (completely) freak out when I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. It's what gives me the strength to press forward.

Everyone knows 1 Nephi 3:7:

“I will go and do the things that the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandment unto the children of men save he shall prepare a way for them that they accomplish the thing which he commanded them.”

Great! So God is going to make a way for me and leave a completely clear path for me with detailed instructions on what to do. Right?

Some of my favorite verses that are sadly frequently overlooked are actually in the very next chapter. It is found after Laman has tried to obtain the plates and failed. After they bring their worldly possessions before Laban. It didn’t really seem like Heavenly Father had spelled a plan out for them. But Nephi wasn’t swayed. He was there to “go and do” and gosh darnnit he was going to go and do… something. So here it is:

1 Nephi 4:6-7:

"And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do. Nevertheless I went forth."

(Freaking YES!)

So basically he decided to act with complete faith and with trust that God really would guide him in the moment. There’s a quote from a John Bytheway DVD that I love called Standards Night Live where he says that “Nephi said I will GO and DO. Not I will SIT and STEW.” Nephi didn’t wait until the path was made clear. He started walking the path in front of him with the faith that Heavenly Father would not lead him astray.

Think about it. Nephi had already tried twice to do what the Lord asked him to do and had failed both times. By that point anyone else would have turned back, which is exactly what his brothers wanted to do. But Nephi knew that somehow, some way, they would get the plates. And so his plan for the third attempt was to not have one. He decided to just go and do without a clue. He had no plan as to what he was going and doing. He trusted so completely in the Lord that even though he didn't know "the things which [he] should do... [he] went forth" anyway.

Now let me tell you, that is SO hard to do. I have had so many experiences in my short 23 years where I have had no idea what to do and felt utterly hopeless. I have spent many, many nights on my knees sobbing where all I could get out for my nightly prayer was a choked out "please, please please." Please take this away. Please make it easier. Please make things work out. Please help me to figure this out. 

Please, please, please.

Let me tell you a story.

When I was in high school I applied to BYU. I didn't know what I was going to study but I knew that that's where I was going to go. My mom went there, my sister went there, and I was going to go there.

But I didn't get in. And I had never sobbed harder in my life as I did that day.

I was accepted into BYU-Idaho and begrudgingly acknowledged that that's where I would be going instead. 

So I waited for my track assignment. 

When it finally came in I was dismayed to see Winter/Spring. Great. Now all of my friends would be heading off to college in the Fall and I would just be stuck at home doing nothing. Not only was I not going to the school that I wanted to, but now I wasn't even going when everyone else was!

Blessedly, my amazing sister invited me to go live with her and her husband in Utah for the Fall semester time period. After some convincing, my mom agreed and I was able to set off to Utah soon after my brother's wedding in August.

I loved living in Utah. I had a job, I made some friends, and I finally felt like an "adult" (silly 18 year-old me).

Then in October something happened that turned my world upside down. 

The age change announcement. 

For those of you who might not know what I'm talking about, this was the announcement to members of the LDS church around the world that boys could now serve full-time missions at 18 instead of 19 and girls could serve at 19 instead of 21.

I hadn't really been planning on serving a mission. I mean, I loved the gospel, and I loved missionaries, and I loved sharing the gospel with my friends at home, but when it came to a full time mission, I never really felt like it was for me. So I eventually decided to just see where my life was when I turned 21 and then go from there.

But then all of a sudden I could go at 19 if I wanted to. I was turning 19 in just five months.

My brain stopped. I literally could not even pay attention to the rest of conference. I felt like all of a sudden I needed to make this huge decision and I had to make it right then and there. Between sessions I went into the guest bedroom of my aunt's house and prayed and cried and prayed some more.

By the end of that very same day my thoughts had changed from "What the heck? What in the world am I supposed to do?" to "You need to go on a mission and you need to go right now." So I numbly announced to the world (AKA Facebook) that I was going to go on a mission when I turned 19. (I got a "shouldn't you talk to your parents about this first?" from Mom, but it didn't matter. I knew what I was supposed to do).

I had no idea how to go about going on a mission. I'm only the third missionary in my entire family and my sister was at college when she did her papers. So I met with my bishop and we had the discussion of whether I was going to go ahead and complete a semester of school or not before I went since I was already enrolled. 

A big part of me longed to stay out here. I longed to be in school like everyone else was. But I knew that that wouldn't work for two main reasons. One, if I went to school that semester, all of my money would be going to tuition and I wouldn't have any left over for a mission. And two, I had medical problems that we'd been trying to figure out for years that were the kind of issues that would prevent me from serving.

A switch went off in my brain that day that the age change announcement happened. And so I made the easiest, most difficult decision of my life. Easy because I knew that it needed to happen, but hard because I had just "escaped."

I decided to go back home. 

The moment things finally seemed to be working out even a little bit for me, I had to decide to go back. And I go back I did. On a Greyhound bus that lost my luggage (thankfully I got it back the next day).

From the get-go I was fairly miserable. I felt so bad when my mom picked me up at the bus station because she was so excited to see me, but I had been dreading going back ever since I decided to do it.

I had it in my head that since the prompting that I had received was to "go now," then I would get home, miraculously figure out my medical problems, and thus have my papers in by my birthday in February. 

No dice.

I spent about 8 months working at Bed, Bath, and Beyond and doing medical tests. Every single test continued to come back negative, as they always had before. I grew increasingly frustrated. I had dropped everything that I wanted in life to serve the Lord. I just wanted to get back out of Pennsylvania and start moving on with my life. I was so bitter about every Facebook post that went up about my friends in college or about a mission call arriving.

Through it all, I was not angry at God. I was angry at my situation, but I didn't blame Him. But even so, I had never felt that I was in a darker, lonelier place than I was then. It was during this time that almost every single prayer was in sobs. 

Heavenly Father, please. My birthday passed months ago and we're still no closer to getting me out on my mission. Heavenly Father, why does this have to be so hard? You told me to go now and I'm trying to. But right now passed months ago. I'm not going to quit. I will keep working at BB&B and doing medical tests for the rest of my life because I know that I'm supposed to serve a mission. But everyone says that You won't give me more than I can handle. So if I refuse to quit, if I don't have a breaking point, then is this just going to keep going on forever?

Night after night this is what I would say to Him. I felt like it would never, ever end. I was going to swallow cameras and pee in cups and have IVs shoved in my arms for the rest of my life with absolutely no results. Yet I refused to give up. It would have been oh so easy to do so. I could have decided to go to school after all. I could have decided that I must have misunderstood my Father when He spoke to me. 

But I knew that I hadn't.

What I did NOT know was how this was all going to pan out. Because clearly it hadn't gone the way that I originally thought that it would. 

Literally all I had to keep me going was this surety that God was there. That He really was listening. That He really did love me. Even though it didn't feel like it. 

I plead for comfort day in and day out. Some sort of relief, peace, anything. But all I felt was anguish. I felt alone. I felt pathetic. But I knew what I could not feel. I couldn't tell you why I never wavered. Why I believed so strongly that Heavenly Father was there and that He wouldn't make me live with my parents and do medical tests for the rest of my life. But I did. I just knew it. My head knew it even though my heart didn't feel it. That's how it's tends to be for me.

Eventually we actually did figure the medical crap out and I (FINALLY) turned my papers in.

I had moved back to PA in November of 2012 and wasn't able to turn my papers in until June of 2013. I went to the MTC in September and immediately got extremely ill. I was sent to the ER in Provo TWICE over the 12 days that I was at the MTC. I missed almost every single class during that time. I had so been relying on the MTC to teach me how to be a missionary and to help me to understand the gospel better. But I was sick in bed all day every day. And I was terrified that after everything that I'd been through to get there, I would be sent home before I even made it to the field.

That didn't happen. 

I served a full mission despite almost being sent home a couple of different times while in CA because of my health. Even after all that I went through to get my health in order, I got to CA and everything just went wrong again. But I was able to stay. I didn't have to go home early. (Not that there is anything at all shameful about having to return early for medical reasons, it's just that I had gone through so freaking much to get there that I couldn't even begin to comprehend the thought of having to go back to PA once more and do more medical tests).

The point of all of this is that those 8 months were honestly the hardest of my life. And my testimony wasn't what it is now, yet I clung to Heavenly Father. He was what kept me going. I had no clue what was happening in my life. I hadn't the slightest idea of when the suffering would end. But I trusted in God. I trusted that this couldn't possibly be what Heavenly Father had planned for the rest of my life. There was no way that I would actually be stuck in PA forever, even if that's how it felt every single day.

The trial that I have faced this year has been my hardest, but I still felt even more hopeless during those 8 months than I do now.

And the thing is, if I hadn't gone through what I did then, and if I hadn't served a mission and come so much closer to Christ than I ever had before, then I honestly don't think that I would be able to handle my life right now. (Let's be honest, I'm hardly handling it as it is).

If things had gone the way that I planned, if I had gone to BYU and never served a mission, then I wouldn't be the type of person that could handle a trial like the one that I'm facing now.

Every single hardship that I've ever suffered and every single lesson learned on my mission has prepared me to go through what I'm going through at this exact moment. Because those 8 months taught me something so important. 

They taught me that even when I feel like I have nothing else, I have God. Even when things don't work out the way that I planned, He is there and is guiding me towards the things that will work out and that will be better for me than anything that I could have come up with. I learned that Heavenly Father really does know what is best for me and that if I don't ever give up on Him, then He assuredly will never, ever give up on me. And even if I do give up He will still be there pulling for me.

Serving a mission changed my life. It changed who I am completely. You could ask my younger brother, and my best friend, and my sister and brother-in-law and they would tell you that I was a totally different person when I got home than I was before. Pre-mission Anna was basically a miserable little pile of sadness. She wasn't super fun to be around much and only saw the negative in her life. But now, even when my life is truly excruciating at times, I am able to see SO much good in it.

And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that things ARE going to get better. I know that because they always have. They ALWAYS do! What chance do my trials have when faced with the Almighty God? A God who loves me- really, truly loves me -and wants the absolute best for me? A God who is guiding my life so that I can have the absolute MOST possible joy in the long run that I can?

Zero.

My trials really are nothing in the grand scheme of things. They sure don't feel like nothing now, but I know that it will all be worth it in the end.

And so no, I don't have a single blessed clue what to do with my life right now. And no I don't know when I'll stop crying, or when I'll stop feeling sick all of the time from the PTSD and IBS, or when I'll be able to handle more than just a couple of classes and actually focus, or when I'll be able to eat and sleep normally again. 

I don't know any of those things. 

But you can bet your butt that I'm going to keep living my life the best that I know how to even if I have to take everything just one day at a time. And yes I'm constantly frustrated with my situation and yes I'm hard on myself and constantly ask myself why I can't just improve, and heal, and move on already, but yes, I also know that it will get better.

I keep going even though I don't know where I'm going. Even though I haven't the foggiest idea of what I'm doing right now. I keep going because I don't have to know. I know that HE knows where I'm going, and sometimes all I can do is just keep walking blindly with the knowledge that He won't ever lead me astray.

I am being led, day by day, hour by hour, by the Spirit, not knowing at this time the things which I should do. Nevertheless, I am going forth.

I am continuing because I know that God is at the helm and that He won't take me into waters that He won't also help me traverse. I am putting one foot in front of the other with the faith that He won't let me fall farther than He can catch me. Because as long as I keep walking with God, things will always get better. Because they always do. And they always will. 

And that's what keeps me going.

So if you are in a spot in your life where you simply do not know what to do, turn to your Father. He loves you and He knows what you need. I needed to go through the hardships that I went through to prepare me for this one. To teach me that things really do get better someday. I am being molded into the very best me that I can be. And you are being molded into the very best you that you can be. But that only works if you allow the Master to shape you and trust that He knows all that you can be.

Life is so hard. The unknown is so scary. Those moments when you feel that your life is hopeless freaking suck. But I promise you that this too shall pass. I promise you that you have the capacity to not only get through this, but that your capacity to continue will grow. You will become stronger because of this. You will be able to help people because of this.

My friend told me today that I have helped her to get through this semester because, even before we were friends, she told herself that "If Anna can go to class and get through her day with everything that she has going on, then so can you." I feel so weak, so helpless. And i have helped her not only despite that, but because of that. Because I've shown her that you can be weak, you can feel helpless, and still keep going.

So it's okay to not know what the heck you're doing right now because God does. Your job is simply to continue. Continue in faith. Continue trying to figure out what to do but don't beat yourself up if you don't know yet. Because as long as you remain close to Him, then I can promise you that it will all be okay. It always is when you trust in God and just continue.

PS- You should read this talk. 

But really though. Read it. 

This Is Not Forever (Thank Goodness!)

So I'm feeling sad right now. Like, I'm on the verge of tears and have been for the last couple of hours. I shouldn't be, but I am.

Today was a great day! I helped a friend out with a car wash fundraiser, then I worked at the temple, then had a mini pizza party with another friend, then hung out with my roommate, then had some other friends over for games. And that catches us up to right now sitting alone on the couch typing.

I did lots of things that I love. Serving friends, serving in the temple, eating pizza and watching shows and YouTube videos, playing games, etc. I even had the huge tender mercy of turning my laptop on and being reminded that I had an assignment about the Second Coming due at 11:59, so I didn't miss it like I have my last two assignments. I was able to leave my friends to start playing games without me for a bit so that I could do my assignment quick before I joined them.

Today was really a wonderful day. And I was happy for most of it. But as I was doing my homework assignment, I started feeling sad. Something that I read triggered negative thoughts and emotions and I couldn't shake them. So I finished my assignment and went back out with my friends. I tried to have fun playing games and simply wish the sadness away.

It didn't work.

However, there was another scripture that I read for that assignment that really struck me.

Doctrine and Covenants 101:36 says

"Wherefore, fear not... for in this world your joy is not full, but in me your joy is full."

And here's the thing guys. Here is the very thing that keeps me going when life sucks and I'm sad and also when life doesn't suck and I'm still sad. 

The thing is that this isn't forever. 

It's not always going to be like this. Things are absolutely going to get better and someday I am going to be able to have a great day like today and be happy without a tiny thing throwing it all off. And someday I'm going to be able to eat and sleep normally, and someday I will once again be able to handle being a full-time student while also working a regular job, and someday I'm not going to feel weak anymore. 

And someday the right guy will come into my life and he won't hurt me. And not only will he not hurt me, but he'll take the pieces of my fragile heart and love me enough to carefully put them back together and protect my healed heart for the rest of his days. 

And that day might not be today. Or tomorrow. Or next week, month, year. But I know that someday I won't feel broken anymore. 

And that's what keeps me going.

Because life is hard. Life has a way of knocking you down and grinding your face in the dirt. But not only do things always get better after that happens, but we also don't see the full picture of what did happen. We don't see the angels sliding  in-between us and the dirt. And we don't see Christ lifting us up and placing us on His shoulders. 

And we don't understand that life isn't going to keep knocking us down over and over again for the rest of eternity. This mortal existence is a difficult one. It really is a time of testing and it's definitely not one of those tests that asks you dumb questions just to give you some extra credit. It's a doozy. 

But unlike most tests, our final grade has less to do with how many questions we got right as it does how hard we tried. It has everything to do with whether we gave up trying to answer when we didn't understand or when the questions were hard or if we kept going. And because of all of that effort, we will be rewarded when Christ comes again. We will inherit ALL that Heavenly Father has. And there will be no more pain. No more suffering. No more heartache. 

In this life, our "joy is not full." But it WILL be in the next life because that's the whole point of us being here! Our Father in Heaven wants us to be filled to overflowing with joy. We are living through this mortal life so that our capacities for joy can expand! THAT is why we are faced with trials. They help us to better understand the bitter so that we will have a greater ability to appreciate the sweet! They are there to help us to become like our Heavenly Father so that we even can inherit all that He has. 

So no matter how hard life gets down here, it sure is reassuring to me to know that even if things don't ever get easier for me here, they certainly will be better after this life. Someday might not be today. And that's just going to have to be okay with me.

In the meantime, I'm doing my best to recognize those angels that are keeping my face out of the dirt as well as Christ's hand lifting me up. I'm trying to find joy in my journey, no matter how bumpy it may be. And even in the midst of sadness, it's really not all that hard to do. 

I see angels all around me. They come in the form of friends, and neighbors, and roommates, and family members, and sometimes even complete strangers. There are many hands placing themselves between me and the dirt. And many that are lifting me up and brushing me off over and over and over again. And when I look up into their faces I can see a twinkle in their eyes that I know belongs to my older Brother Jesus. 

And I'm reminded that no, my joy is not full here and now. But if I keep going, keep trusting, keep believing, keep trying, then it will be. 

Someday.

PTSD- It's Not Just For Veterans

I love that I've seen posts like this on Facebook over the last few days leading up to the Fourth of July. I love that people are aware of the effects that fireworks can have on those with PTSD from war. And I love that people want to be courteous because of it. I think that that's amazing.

It's been making me think though. Today has been really hard for me too in a lot of ways, also because I have PTSD, but not because of explosions, not because of war. And it was a great day in so many ways! Yet I was on the verge of tears for a lot of it, whether anyone could tell or not.

Before I go on, you should read this. I was officially diagnosed with PTSD a couple of months ago, but only just now looked up the symptoms and was amazed by how spot on they are. I can completely relate with all of the symptoms listed here.

Okay, continuing on.

I didn't have plans for today. For the last week or so people have asked me what my plans were for the Fourth of July and I didn't have any, but they were going to Utah or something, so couldn't make plans with me either.

But last night an awesome friend of mine invited me to watch the parade on Main with her, so I did. And then at the parade I was invited to go swimming with some people in my ward. And so I did. And I went to Idaho Falls with them to watch the fireworks too! We played games, ate food, made a massage train, and then enjoyed one of the best fireworks displays I have ever seen (which is saying something for me).

It was truly a wonderful day. I am so grateful for my friends for reaching out and letting me tag along.

But. During the parade police cars passed, and I couldn't help but wonder if any of the policemen that have worked on my ex-fiance's case were in any of them.

And then on the way to the lake we passed the courthouse and jail. And the thought that my ex-fiance was in there over a holiday while I was hanging out with friends hurt me.

And then going to IF to see the fireworks was hard because I distinctly remember going there last year and just missing him so badly because we were doing long distance at the time and I just desperately wished that he could be sitting there, watching the fireworks with me instead of 2,000 some miles away. But then also having the lovely thought that after we got married, I wouldn't have to celebrate another holiday without him ever again. I also realized that next month it'll be a year since we got engaged.

And then I again remembered that this year he's sitting in jail on the Fourth. And I wondered if he could hear fireworks going off. Or the parade as it went right by the jail on Main. And if he could, was it as hard on him as I imagine it would be?

I hate to think of him in there. I mean, I'm glad that he is where he is because I think that it is proper for the crime that he committed. And honestly, it might even be good for him that he is missing a holiday with friends and family. Yet it still pains me to think about because I still can't shake the image of him as the man that I fell in love with. And the thought of that man sitting alone in jail on the Fourth of July is what hurts, even if he didn't end up really being the man that I thought that he was after all.

And so all day I've just had this sadness tainting everything else.

I started crying at one point during the fireworks. I pushed the tears away quickly and managed to stop, but I still felt fairly miserable despite the spectacular show.

On the car ride home, one of my wonderful friends played Uno with me over, and over, and over again. As long as I wanted to play, he would play. And I don't know that he truly realizes how important that was.

Because if I hadn't been distracted with a game and everyone had been dozing or on their phones during the long ride home, then I would have been left to my thoughts, left to my loneliness, and I probably would have broken down finally.

I needed him to keep playing Uno with me because I was afraid of what would happen if we stopped.

Everything that's been going through my head today made me think about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Before this year, I always thought of PTSD as something that soldiers home from Afghanistan had. And that was pretty much it.

And then MY world fell apart. Not with a bomb or a gunshot. But it fell apart just the same.

And I was asking people to skip songs that made me hurt inside. And I would ask that we watch a different movie for movie night because I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle the one that they had planned. And I would leave a game night after being there for only twenty minutes because I just couldn't handle trying to be overly social at the moment.

And my incredible friends have always been completely understanding and that means the world to me. I really wish that I could help them all to see how much they have done- and continue to do -for me. Because I always feel bad asking things of them or leaving early. But not because they made me feel bad. Those things never seem to matter to them, they really don't seem to mind one bit. And that's why they're amazing.

Because everyone is aware, if not sensitive of, veterans' suffering from PTSD. But there are so many others out there with PTSD that people probably don't know about. People who were in bad accidents or lost loved ones or were raped or were victims or witnesses of some other crime.

This whole experience has taught me what it's like to suffer from PTSD. To be emotionally set off by the simplest things. To look over my shoulder all the time because I think that I saw him. And every time I know that it couldn't actually be him because he was in Utah or (now) jail. But I still double check because I have to be sure. Anyone with a similar haircut or build or gait freaks me out. And even after the double check, even after I know that it's not actually him, I'm still emotionally in turmoil after seeing "him."

And I know the feelings of depression, anxiety, and social withdrawal. And the lightheadedness and headaches. And the nightmares and sleeplessness. And I understand the need to avoid things that make you think of an event, or in my case, a person. And to be so keyed up and anxious that it's hard to focus or get to sleep.

And while my situation, and the resulting repercussions have been fairly well known, not everyone's are. I think that we'd be shocked to find out how just how many of the people around us are suffering from some sort of PTSD.

And so I just ask that we offer the same courtesy to those with PTSD that are not veterans as we do to those who are. And they may not ever come out and say that they have PTSD, and they might not ask you to change a song. But try to be aware. Look around you. Does someone look sad or uncomfortable all of a sudden? It's very possible that it's because they've been triggered.

So pay attention, and don't ignore the heads that are hanging down right in front of you. Be there. Be a friend. Be the kind of person who doesn't make anyone feel like they can't request a song or movie or topic change. Be the kind of person that acts like it's no big deal because it's really NOT that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, but we still feel bad for asking.

I have been so, SO blessed to be surrounded by such understanding people. I hope to be able to bring some awareness so that others who are struggling can receive the same caliber of love, support, and understanding that I have received.

And you can help those who are struggling without really ever knowing the impact that you are having.

Going back to today's example:

I probably would have broken down a few times today if things had gone differently. Last night I was already starting to struggle with the memories of last year and thoughts of how I was in the same place today as last year but he is in a very, very different situation than last year. I broke down late last night. And I likely would have again today if I hadn't been unwittingly rescued by some friends. They kept me busy all day and gave me something to turn to when I started to feel overwhelmed with it all. I would latch on to a game or conversation. Even just being with people was at least enough for me to push it all down and try to focus on something else so that I wasn't just sad all day. I was actually really happy for a lot of it.

I don't think that my friends realized (and if they did, probably not fully) how much I was struggling today. They helped me not because I asked them to or even because they knew that I needed it. They helped me in a way that probably didn't feel like helping to them. They helped me simply by being my friend and including me.

And you can do that. Just be nice to people, be inclusive. Invite those people that you don't know very well to do things with you. Because you might be the only one that does. You might be the one who helps them to feel loved. You might be the one that helps them to swallow the PTSD for a little bit and actually enjoy themselves for a bit.

Because it'll creep back in later. It's always there, always present. But it sure is nice to be able to get even a little bit of a break from it. And that moment of relief almost always comes from time spent with friends.

You have the power to help provide that relief. You only have to decide to use it.

We're All Just People

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that makes this all worth it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So there it is.

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confused?

Hey same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second, I try to stay away from triggers.

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

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

Idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's look at my situation:

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

They would be wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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