Tin therapy

- To the girl who told me me that my hair grows, and that it's all in my head that it doesn't,
No, it doesn't. It's been 2 1/2 months since i cut it last, and guess what, it has NOT grown. I hate what you did to my paranoid mind. Thanks for making me question that.

-I watched a kiss happen  on tv, and realized I am broken.

-picture perfect health. then what the hell is going on?

-There are people who make my life harder. Daily. Am I that person to anyone?

more tin time...

-My very own farmers market, in MY BACK YARD! All for FREE!!!

-"I'm going to bed, because I'm tired and you are bugging me, and I am too tired to try and filter my mouth, and I am going to keep saying you are bugging me, because I am so tired."

-The humidity is gone. My elbows are cracking.

-I bought new PINK, yes, the color Pink shoes. AND I LOVE THEM!!

-After living with 2 sweatshirts, and 2 pairs of shorts all summer, I feel a little glutenous. Although, I guess it can be noted that I did also have 6 swimsuits that I sort of lived in.

-$11,250 in car repairs this year
 Escalade  
 $5,000 on a transmission
 $3,000 on suspension
 $500 on cv joints
 $250 on tires

 Passat
 $250 on tires
 $1250 on front end
 $500 on cv joints
 $500 stearing
Disgusting.

-Oh, and remember the medicine ball vs mirror episode. $750.

-I am working on my hugging skills. I found out that my bubble issues have made me a bad hugger. I am Wayne incarnate. But, I doubt our triggers that created our outcome where the same. But I am hugging with both arms when possible, and not patting the back. Good huh? Ya, Skye and Amy are helped me realize my ineptness in this area.

-Bubble issues. Whatever. Everybody has issues. Mine just happen to have to deal with bubbles.

To Heal.

I guess I am on a new quest.
A cut eventually heals itself.
A burn? The same.
Skin wounds. I guess they all have some sort of capability to heal, to reconnect the cells, the binding material.
Bones. I suppose the can heal themselves, again, reattaching.
Time. Give them time, and things can get better.  Bandages, salve, stitches, casts.
But, neither skin nor bone can do it without a scar, a mark, an evidence to the harm done.
So how do emotions heal.
What is the bandage or salve? What is the stitch or cast?

Forgotten

One of the worst feelings in life is when you feel like you've been forgotten.
Sure, we will be forgotten by the cashier, by teachers, by landlords, and maybe even people you work with. But when there was a significant time, energy, emotion invested, involved, filed into our memories or heart- thats when the forgetting becomes personal.
We live In a world where forgetting is not easy. It is deliberate. Where you open Instagram, or Facebook, and there is a pictures of your once "people" - and there is a deliberate avoidance to engage. What is that? Why.

Why do people make a point to prove I am forgotten. 

Delicious Sunshine

Bikini lines

Sand in the sheets

No sandal lines on the feet

Beach towels And Bath towels

Sunglasses

be strong

In the prayer that says,
bless emily to 'be strong'
i want to say, stop, stop it.
I am so sick of being the strong one.
I don't want to be the strong one.
I am so sick of carrying it all.
I don't want to carry the mattress.

I don't feel good.

I am back to where I was 35 days ago.

I don't feel good. 

I can't decide if it's physical because of my mental, or mental because of my physical. 

I am not lying when I said it.

Absorb

It's my new goal.
I want to Absorb the Minutes. The Sunshine. The Heat. The Pool. The Beach. The Sand. The kids playing together.
I want to be in the minute.
I am going to focus my next month on letting it all Absorb.

Thoughts from the Tin.

-Nothing like a 3 year old boy.
At that age they probably love deeper than any other age in the universe.
Seriously,
they kiss you on the toilet,
they love the pancake that got a wrinkle, and think 'It's so cool!,'
they bring the blanket for snuggle time,
and they think everything is 'hilarious.'
Yes, I love 3 year old boys.

-Is is that Virginia humidity is amazing for my skin? or is it that it's the first time in my life that I take the time to baby it?

-I should be a radiation control instructor.

-When everything you loved, changes, without your input, what's fair?

-How many prayers for a miracle have to go unheard, before you give up on miracles?

-I finally found a peace in aging. It is this; I have beautiful children.

-I fear that my negligence with sun screen makes me a bad mom.  When people see my tan little babies do women who have pale kids gasp in horror?

-My shower indulgence, and love of hot steamy soak time has really been hindered by the city water concept of paying for water.

-Remember how a text is so easy? Sad reminder that I actually, literally, have 2 friends, outside my family who has remembered me. All summer.

-Little cars are such a nice sigh of relief.

-I really really love warm.

REI, Eyelashes, Swimsuits

On the 4th we decided, Beach! Cody was off, and since we are sort of in love with sunshine, that was the choice. And, being beach experts now :), it's easiest to just wear the swimsuit from home.  So I did. On the way Cody decided that he wanted to grab a beach chair and pulled into REI. We all went in. Went into a store, REI, in my swimsuit, and tiny little coverup. Walked into the store with probably half my a** showing. 

I wouldn't be writing about it if this wasn't impactful and if I didn't have a minute of pause where I sat down on the kid table, where Canyon was playing National Park Jenga. 

I was completely comfortable. 

Why? 

Because Nobody even looked at me. 

Nobody noticed, 

And nobody JUDGED!

A few years ago I started with eyelash extensions. 

I have short hair, no boobs, and look like a boy. So I have loved having long eyelashes. It's the only splurge, and feminine thing I engage in. They only last a few weeks at a time, and since they are not a 'thing' here, (hum, again, a place in the world where people don't judge) I decided to let my real lashes breath and have let the extensions go. I am working on the idea of self acceptance, but by being here, I am totally fine going about life, and stores, and outside world with no lashes.

I have written more than once about my anxieties. Questioning where they come from. I think I am ready to start thinking that through.

Middle Child- Yes, I just went with the flow. I was told by everyone what to do and wasn't in charge of anything, which was fine. But now I'm an adult and have to make the phone calls to schedule and arrange, and fix, and I don't like it. I realized this week that I would have enjoyed marrying someone who took care of me. Who took care of the scheduling, arranging, and fixing, or who babied me. Ha, that would have been fun. I guess it could be said that I created my situation, but I don't think so. I think I had to step up and fill in the gaps. I married an oldest child thinking, subconsciously that I would be taken care of. 

Vicki's child. She has never had a sad day. That's all I am ready to say.

Being Mormon. I know that this is a big part of it. But, I have a brain that takes me into a softer side of religion. Yes, I still do some things out of fear, Motivation by fear. And, Guilt, but those are not as pronounced as before. However, by being here, I recognize that other mormons create huge anxiety in their judgements. The pretense of perfection is deadly. I love love, freaking love being a mormon in virginia because here I am loved. Seen for me. Not judged for what I should be. 

Being a Pisces- the fish. Fish dart here and there, hide in the shadows, but never give up, love, and get hurt. 

And, laying on the beach, sun caressing my skin, waves rhythmically kissing my ears, I realized that inside I still have anxiety. It's chemical. It will always be part of me. I have situations in life that happen, but no harder than anyone else.  I have anxiety in my blood, or bones, or brain, and I'm not sure that really any of the other things would be hard if I didn't have it within. So, by understanding this, maybe, I can work on managing that instead of laying the blame elsewhere. 

Grief. Depression. Postpartum.

I am in beautiful Virginia!

Everyday our only goal is to have fun and make memories.

We are in a new little apartment, we have a gorgeous pool, fabulous workout room, and endless amounts of beach, sunshine, and free time.

There are no schedules, no practices, no callings, no games, no carpools, no tournaments, or competitions. 

I have no paperwork to turn in, no, clients to see, no work stress, or drama.

I suppose that's why I have started to breakdown. 

No distractions.

I wrote the post the other day, and that was the beginning of my mind, and my heart trying to process.

I looking up postpartum after miscarriage. Is it normal? Is it common? What is it?

I think that as I was being told that my baby died, and that I had options as to how to pass it, I had to plan around State Softball, and Work, and Preschool, and Dance, and Practices, and Packing and not get to actually stop and process and grieve. 

Then, that I had to do it without Cody. That this baby that we created, wanted, and were told we should have, was only a part of our life with him gone. And I had to do this, with out  him. Why couldn't he have flown home for the day? Why couldn't he have come home and held me for the weekend after? Ya, there are so many layers to heal.

I talked with Jessica. Wise Jessica from Pineview 204. Who, even after busy schedules and life, and not communicating much in past years, validated me and comforted me and taught me. She was able to put into words the feelings that were jumbled in my soul. She said, 'the minute you find out you are pregnant you change you life to fit this new being. You make plans' envisioning the next christmas with your new baby, your life in virginia; pregnant, telling your work, how to change around rooms, buying clothes, adding additional 4 years of child raising.  And, your body changes. 'Your hormones change huge, then at a miscarriage have such a short time to try and rearrange Again.'  14 lbs in 6 weeks. pregnancy. hormones. reality.  She told me it's ok. I can be whatever I am right now, and it's ok.

I questioned the difference between Grief. Depression. Postpartum. I talked to Cody, and he finally talked to me rather than looking at me like I was crazy. I am smack dab in the middle of grief. But, it is sprinkled with a dose of hormones. Yesterday was a very big day of healing my feeling of crazy, and accepting I am ok. ish. I will survive. I may still cry. I may still question. It may take awhile before I even want to be touched.  But, I will survive. 

Don't know how to process.

I can't imagine that this is healthy. I feel like I am in a dream. I am relying on a few things that I believe are reality, but I worry that as time keeps ticking by, even those glimmers of realness may slip.

If I were to show those 3 previous sentences to a psychiatrist would he deem me crazy?

Here are the things that I am holding on to as hard facts of reality.

I had two pregnancy tests that showed positive. 

I took a picture of them. Sent it to Cody. 

I waited the 10 weeks.
I saw the ultrasound, a tiny little bundle, a heartbeat. A Heartbeat. A Heartbeat. I saw it. 

The measurement was 6 weeks.

Not right. It should be bigger.
 Not possible. Cody left 8 weeks ago.
 Not growing. 

I am a numbers nerd remember. 

All I could imagine was our baby puppies. 

Slow heartbeat meant nothing we did, would change the outcome.   

Again, am I crazy.

The words, 'I'm sorry'

But still I made them do more tests. Additional ultrasounds. Prove to me my baby is dead.

I had to go into that hospital without cody. The whole experience. From sending the pictures of positive tests, to walking into the hospital for them to remove the remains of my baby. Alone. 

I am about to shatter the glass. I may not be ready. 

I don't understand the why behind this. I. We. felt like we were suppose to have another baby. A girl. Emma Rain. She came quick, and left quick. 

I don't want to do that again. But my baby for christmas. My soft baby girl. My baby. 

Why was I asked to something so hard on my mental and physical and emotional and then,   not. 

But worse.

The dr kept emphasizing that it was nothing I did. How does he know? How does he know. Was it the diet soda? Was it the tylenol for my back. Was it merely because Im 42. 

Yes, I don't know how to process this and I think the longer it goes, the more it's eating me, I look at my beautiful kids and think, where is my 6th beautiful baby. 

I don't understand miscarriage. 

I don't understand this in the eternal perspective.

I want to say, I want so much to believe that all she needed was a heartbeat. That all this exceptional Spirit needed was a heartbeat, and that she will always be my guardian angel, and my beautiful daughter on the other side of the vail. Yes. I want to believe this. 

And is this hormonal chaos because of the physical hormones, or mental. Can you have postpartum from a miscarriage? 

My heart hurts that I feel like this is a dream. That I don't understand this reality. That I don't know how to process this.

Put your bra on.

If I ever had a talk to give about being prepared. Or, a book to write about being ready, I would title it, Put Your Bra On. That's good huh?
This week was the 4 year anniversary of Cody's accident. As I got his call, and I jumped out of bed to hurry and find him, I had one split second of hesitation as I threw on my sweats, and sweatshirt. Bra or no bra? I for the most part require no bra most of the time, but it is definitely most appropriate to have it on outside my house walls. But, at 5:42 in the morning, I had no idea what the day was going to bring, and the choice to put it on was a good one. I ended being at the hospital all day and it was good I was physically prepared to be there. So, although this can go into pages of thoughts, and chapters of derivatives-  I'll leave it at this. If there is the slightest option of needing one, it is best to just go ahead and Put your Bra on. :)

2340 miles

We did it. We made it. We went from Rexburg, to Rock Springs. Then, Rocks Springs to Kansas City Missouri. Kansas City to Beckley West Virginia, and then 5616 Infinity Lane Virginia! Wowza.
Recap?
I missed the beauty of  Colorado. I saw a glimpse from a far, but super disappointed.
It rained.  A ton.
But, then, we saw some Fantastic Rainbows!
Kansas, I had two rude interactions with people. The toll lady, and the driver who flipped me off. The whole states perception is based on those two people. I did not like you and will forever have a bad memory of you. Good job two rude people.
Missouri! Wow! Pleasantly surprised! You were beautiful! What a Happy thing!
And, because in a trip of this magnitude  I only looked at the blue line from point  A to point B, and didn't zoom in on the stretch between Missouri and Kentucky.  That blue line took us through the southern end of Illinois, and Indiana. Both Fabulous. Extra little gems in the memory book.
Kentucky, unfortunately you came at the end of the day. Day three actually, and we were tired. Beatiful. Yes, not quite the horse country I was dreaming of, but I did see a retirement center for old horses, so that was the highlight.
West Virginia. so bizarre. Beautiful, yes. Own accent, yes. Very nice people. yes. But I was surprised by the feeling of St Anthony. Ha Ha, maybe a little more at home. :) Olive Garden never felt so comfortable.
And, now, here we are. Virginia is for Lovers. Never trust the GPS on estimation of minutes. That final 23 minutes to Cody seemed to grow every minute. Traffic.
What an adventure! Kids did amazing, did a lot of time on electronics, watched a few Friends seasons, and  they definitely did a lot of sleeping.

Cry Pretty - Carrie Underwood

I'm sorry, but I'm just a girl / Not usually the kind to show my heart to the world / I'm pretty good at keeping it together / I hold my composure, for worse or for better / So I apologize if you don't like what you see / But sometimes my emotions get the best of me / And falling apart is as human as it gets / You can't hide it, you can't fight what the truth

You can pretty lie and say it's okay / You can pretty smile and just walk away / Pretty much fake your way through anything / But you can't cry pretty

Oh no, you can’t dress it up in lace or rhinestones / Don't matter if you're in a crowd or home all alone / Yeah, it's all the same when you're looking in the mirror / A picture of pain, so let it flow like a river

You can pretty lie and say it's okay / You can pretty smile and just walk away / Pretty much fake your way through anything / But you can't cry pretty

You can't turn off the flood when the dam breaks / When all your mascara is going to waste / When things get ugly, you just gotta face / That you can't cry pretty

           You can't turn off the flood when the dam breaks / When all your mascara is going to waste / When things get ugly, you just gotta face / That you can't cry prettyYeah, yeah, yeah, yeah / No, you can't cry / No, you can't cry / Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah / No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, woo / You can't cry / You can't cry pretty, baby / Oh yeah, woo, woo / No, you can't cry pretty, yeah

Joy

I have been in a mind quandary about something.
Joy.
I wonder if people really have Joy, or are Joyful, or know that feeling all of the time.
Or,
I wonder if instead people are faking it.
I kinda was thinking the later.
I think people are on auto pilot, and as part of the auto is the smile, not sparked by Joy.
But, guess what, I had a little bit of a break through in my hope for human kind.
or maybe, EmilyKind.
I am definitely in auto pilot. Get up, breakfast, lunches, kids out the door, Canyon homework time, paperwork, clean, ready, daycare, work, daycare, clean up, dinner, practices, games, scriptures, bed. Be happy, be interested, be auto pilot.
But last night at the end of that auto pilot there was a little crack into actual happy enjoyment. It was 8:30 p.m. and Carsons game in blackfoot was just getting started. No wind, no rain, no snow. By ten, he had hit a home run, and by 10:15, scored the running in. We hit Wendy's and got frosty's with the absolute best fries I've had in decades. Then for the next hour drive home, we dipped those salty, crispy fries in the frosty, and celebrated! It was pure Joy! The night I was anxious about because of the lateness, the drive, the cold, ended up to be one of the most favorite things I've done in awhile. So yes, there is bits of true Joy amongst the auto pilot.
Is it because I am mormon? Or because I am a mom? Or because I am the daughter of Vicki. Why do I feel this drive that life is supposed to be good  all the time. That Joy is supposed to ooze from us. That's not realistic is it? Why do we feel the pressure of that? I don't know. But, the better thing to know is that there are bits of Joy to be found, and that I don't have to run around feeling like I'm failing because Joy isn't found in the monotony of autopilot.
So there. That's all.

Box Elder Country Justice Court

 I understand, that my writing this will probably do nothing for my case, but I do want to plead my case. I know that in theory, I could come and plead in court, but not reality. I live in Idaho. I don’t have the time, nor the means. So yes, this is just for my benefit in writing this out. Will anybody else read this? probably not, but at least I will get my words out. I was traveling home yesterday. 5 hours into my drive, with 3 little kids in crappy fast traffic. My husband is at Norfolk Naval Base in a training that is kicking his trash, and I am left to manage the remains of our family on my own.  My daughter had a dance competition in St George, that was mandatory. Did I want to go? Hell no. Can I afford to drive 8 hours one way to do dance. No. Do I have any desire to do so? no. But, I am freaking trying to be a good mom.  The officer said I was going 91. He said, “the gal ahead of you was 87, and I let her slide, but then you were right behind her.” I did not think I was going 91. I did think I was trying to navigate traffic safely and get out of the way of those utah drivers. He cited me  for going 80 in a 75, and I now am to pay $120. I actually have had a good break down and sob. First time since my husband left. I guess it’s the straw on the camels back. I will pay the fine on my credit card that is $300 from its limit. I will go to work today as a social worker and remember that people have a story. I know that there are laws to protect us. I know that the police officer was doing his job. I did not and will not talk bad about the police to my kids. But, I now have to figure out a stupid extra $120. Life is really hard. 

Thanks for you time. I do not want a response.

Emily Petersen

This night.

I am tired.
Like, crawl up in a fetal position, and pull the blanket so high around my shoulders and bury my face so far in my pillow, that hopefully no one will ever find me, tired. I possibly am resembling funeral exhaustion. But, it is different. I actually can't crawl up in the fetal position and give up, or give in.
I want to.
I am only on day three, and I am failing.
I understand how mothers quit. They are tired. They are tired of the fight. They are tired of the fake. They are tired.
I actually don't know how to ask for help.
"hi, help me while I check out. Direct all questions, calls, concerns and criticism to somewhere else, forever."

Ulcers.

I can't say that I have heard anything about ulcers since before 2000. Did they decide they don't actually exist? or is it that they are so common place anymore, that it's just a part of the actual make up of our bodies. You know, like, blood, bones, ulcers.  ?
I think I have them. My stomach is sick. and sad. and hurts. I'm pretty sure it's ulcers. My tears are too close to the surface to actually talk about the events of today, March 23. But, let me just give a quick overview of what could be contributing to my ulcers.
Carson.
-Failing English. No, I should correct that and state, Failed English. I am making him take it              online.
-Weird obsessions
-Lying to me about kissing his girlfriend.
-Getting texts from his friends saying they are worried about him, that he told them 'that nobody would care if he died.'
Skye.
-Kissing a boy in my house during lunch.
Daisy.
-4th grade girls drama, and the mothers that call me.
Creeden.
-His bad days that cause melt downs.
Canyon.
-Naughty. Defiant. Aggressive.
Church.
-Nursury, stressful, not rewarding, crying kids, runaway parents, getting so so little from church except a migraine.
-Visiting Teaching
-People judging my daughters short skirt.
-My older two do not love it. Hate it actually.
My House.
- I have to get it ready for someone else to live in.
My dogs.
-I have to get rid of them, and nobody wants them.
Cars.
Clients.
and, well, now I get to navigate this all on my own.
Ya, I have ulcers.

Focusing on the Now.

Last October Cody and I  flew to Massachusetts. Drove to Maine, then Connecticut, peeked at Rhode Island, and then back to Boston. Adventurous. Amazing. Fantastic. (I might love that word)
It was at that same time we found out that he had gotten hired for his new position at work.  Because of this, he would need some additional training,  6 months training in Virginia actually. He will be at Newport News Shipyard for a time, then Norfolk Naval. Adventure. Amazing. Fantastic!
In October I didn't really ever think the end of March would come. Seven months seemed like an eternity.

It's here.

We have gotten an apartment, secured a lease, picked the furniture, arranged the power. We have packed the boxes, and filled the suitcases. On Friday, I drive him to the airport, he boards a plane, and flys 2,362 miles away. He then picks up his rental, drives to his new apartment, and sleeps, without me, for 63 days.
In 68 days we will join him. That middle 65? That's where I can't let my mind go.
We have:
 Carsons basketball; practices and games. Baseball; practices, games, and tournaments. Speedcamp; two nights a week in Rigby, young mens,  and he is working everyday after school at the greenhouse.
Skyes daily practice, games, tournaments, young womens, and working at the greenhouse when possible.
Daisy dance; class two nights a week, technique one night a week, and competitions, every other weekend from here to ST GEORGE!
Creedens baseball; practice and games.
Every weekend between now and Memorial day, I will drive an average of 600 miles to competitions or tournaments. Actually that started 3 weeks ago with Boise, Poky, Twin Falls.
Should the time fly in that 63 days? Yes. Will I be going a million miles an hour? Yes.
Adventureous. Amazing. Fantastic. ?
I will do my best.
Oh, and my job. Yes, I will still be working, full time.

Then, at the end of those 63 days, the remaining 6 of our tribe will crawl in the car and drive the 2,362 miles to be reunited. Utah. Colorado. Kansas, Kentucky, West Virginia, Virginia.
Days at a time? Miles at a time? Hours? Minutes. If nothing else, by the end of this summer, I think I may claim the status of being an actual grown up.

But it will be the nights. The crawling into a cold bed, with no option of warm legs to put my feet on. No back to secure my anxious belly against. No arm around me to hold me tight.

So here I am. I will focus everyday on only the Now. That 63 days will have too many Nows that  will require my every attention.
Deep breath.
Adventure. Amazing. Fantastic!

Hiccup

Because I can't really find the right title for this post, I named it Hiccup, because it was an involuntary  chaos created in my brain that has just kept repeating.
It was Skye's birthday yesterday. We were so busy. No time for self indulgent awareness. I was at the grocery store, and the clerk was talking to Canyon, he was entertaining back. She then turned to me and said, "Is he your grandson?'
Hiccup.
"No. I guess I just started late."
Hiccup.
How in the whole amount of cosmic universe did this one clerk hit me with the line that plagues my insecurities?
I know that I am aging. I am telling Heavenly Father that every day, and the things He is asking me to do are indeed so hard because of this exact Hiccup.
Tell me lady. Is it the wrinkles by my eyes? or on my forehead, because, yes, I have them. In excess.
Is it the sun spots? I know. I even have them on my neck.
And actually, speaking of my neck, I have a little bit of saggy skin there. I am trying a variety of things, for the saggy, the sun spots, and the wrinkles. But yes, they are still there.
Hiccup.
we live in a really weird world.
Tell me lady. Because although it will be a really beautiful thing to be a grandmother-  right now, I am a mother, only. And a very insecure one that really doesn't know how to pull off the things that Heavenly Father is asking. Tell me, what is it in my appearance that has you question my age. I really will work on it.
Hiccup.

42 on 24

I'm a numbers nerd.
I actually had decided that I was going to be turning 36 this year. Good number. Not too old. But, the morning of my birthday I realized that was kind of a cool number play. So, for a minute, I embraced it.
Musings. I've been musing over a few things. It's because I went running. That always sparks the part of my brain that thinks deeper, to come to life. It was 12'- but with wind chill, felt like 1'. I was totally aware of this before going out, and actually totally deliberately went out anyway. I hate cold. But, it was my birthday. I wanted to do all the things I love (running- not cold). Do you know that I am still wearing the running shoes that I bought with the money I won from my placing 2nd in my marathon. yes. That was 2013. I know. I know that is not healthy. Not good. Guess what, oh well.
Pandora was music selection choice of the day. First song, perfect. I did it all,  OneDirection. Funny huh? What's so funny is that I pay so little attention to trendy music that I had no Idea about this song. It is awsome!I think that it hit me so hard because it was my birthday, and it's my baby's birthday (today)- and I feel I have lived thoroughly, fully, deeply, and hope the same for her. We listened to it a million times more throughout the day.
Because the wind was blowing, my eyes naturally drifted downward, and I went into that musing part of my brain. I went through and did a self inventory.
Legs. Warm. Strong. Not even bothered. I am Waynes daughter. My legs are slightly less than the size of a elephants. But the are strong.
Arms. Warm. But, a little high. Amazing how I could write you a whole novel on what the position of my arms mean. Saturday. They were high. That's a explanation for another day.
Lungs. Not strong. The wind was burning them, and I was sucking way too hard.
And then my feet. I love my feet. Nope, definitely not because of their looks. They are steady. They are constant. They are solid. They have carried me to the coolest, most amazing destinations. Yes, they are my favorite part of me.
As my eyes stayed there watching my feet I wondered how many miles these shoes have seen. Even better how many minutes. For over a year, I was inside on machines. Different than a road. But still carrying me. Minutes.
Sometimes I've been only able to focus on minutes. Maybe even only one. Yes, one minute at a time. 2012. 2013. and definitely minutes of 2014. yes, that's talking about my minute on the stair stepper. My minute, on the treadmill, or lifting weights. My minute in survival. My minute, one at a time in control, being strong. But they add up. I made it through. There are 524,160 minutes in a year. If nothing else, that is pretty amazing.
I AM a numbers nerd.
Thank you little red tin therapist. That's where I will end today.

cording.

Like an umbilical cord. It connects us.
Or, it attaches us to someone. In my mind, I want to say it's a two way, but that is where I am mistaken.
There are healthy cords and unhealthy, but most can be both.
Babies and Mothers, in utero and out.  This was my first reason I believe in it. The connection I have with my babies. As they are born and grow, it changes, sometimes thicker and stronger, sometimes, not.
My Spouse. We feed each other, and drain each other.
As someone in mental health, people attach their cords to me. I do not attach back to them, but then they suck me dry.
We can 'cord' with someone we don't even know. i.e. the lady who offered me a sample of night cream for my face that I walked away from, but still can't get out of my brain.
But, we also have the power to cut these cords, or burn them, or pull them out from the core- maybe that's a little hostile.
The frustration with this idea is that cords are not a guaranteed two way highway. A lot can be given, Or a lot can be received, but it doesn't have to be both ways.
I guess that's the basis.

Board of Directors

A long time ago, in a beautiful far off place called Sun Valley, I attended a mental health conference.
There was a presenter, Ruby Payne, who still, 14 years later, echoes thoughts in my head. She introduced to me the idea of a Board of Directors, for ourselves. Ruby reviewed what the definition of a Board of Directors consists of. And then, asked us if we have that in our brain. Do we have a Board of Directors in our Brains?
I do.
Why? I don't know. and I write that with a big sigh and a level of 'seriously, why do i have to have other people occupy space in my brain' kind of weight that pushes my shoulders down.
Maybe there are healthy people there.
My parents. Separately. They aren't a voice together, because I use their voices for different aspects. Yes, they are healthy. And, they are consistent. They are always available.
My Mission President, and his wife. The Rowes. They are distant, but also healthy.
My boss. He's consistent for the most part. As much as he can be.
And maybe a splash, like, a splash from the lemonade glass, of friends. That means like 3. Distant, busy, not super invested. However, if i had the guts enough to text and say, I'm not in a good spot, they would text back.
But then there are those that for stupidly stupid reasons they still sit there, in their stupid black robes, (I guess I picture them as a grand jury) and refuse to leave, but refuse to acknowledge that they were given the power to be there. Again, I am reminded that I need to write out my thoughts on Cording.

3 questions

I was listening to a talk by President Oaks, he posed 3 questions that I think are perfect.

1- Where are you coming from?
2- What are your basic values?
3- What do you want to accomplish?

One day I will come back to this post and answer these.

Female

Keith Urban has a song called Female. Love love love.

Female

Keith Urban

When you hear somebody say somebody hits like a girl
How does that hit you?
Is that such a bad thing?
When you hear a song that they play saying you run the world
Do you believe it?
Will you live to see it?

Sister, shoulder
Daughter, lover
Healer, broken halo
Mother nature
Fire, suit of armor
Soul survivor, Holy Water
Secret keeper, fortune teller
Virgin Mary, scarlet letter
Technicolor river wild
Baby girl, women shine
Female

When somebody laughs and implies that she asked for it
Just 'cause she was wearing a skirt
Oh is that how it works?
When somebody talks about how it was Adam first
Does that make you second best?
Or did he save the best for last?

Sister, shoulder
Daughter, lover
Healer, broken halo
Mother nature
Fire, suit of armor
Soul survivor,…

Grandmas

Over Christmas I had a really weird thing happen. I went into a deep sorrow for the loss of my Grandmothers. It was so intense and so consuming, one night, I full on texted a friend who is a medium. I had to know 'what' and 'why.'
This is what she said:
"They said part of it is because it is the holidays and you are trying hard to 'feel' the Christmas magic, but it is kind of empty this year. And, there is a part of you that just really longs to feel how you did when you were younger."
She said, "From my perspective the moon is full and Mercury just went to retrograde. that can draw old grief to the surface."
Then, "What are you doing for you? Are you getting any free time at all? You feel anxious and rushed. Make sure that you do things to honor them this holiday. Make their cookies, their rolls, or other treats and make sure that theres's an ornament on your tree that represents each one of them. I will ask them both to see if they can come and see you in a dream and give you a love. It feels like that's what you really need is a good grandma hug."
Kinda of made me weep. Not cry. Weep.
I could close this right here, but I want to write out two memories of my Grandmas I want recorded.
Grandma D sent a package on my mission for Christmas that included two of everything,  turtlenecks, lipstick, hair stuff. It was the only present my companion got. <3
Grandma Grover would make us something every christmas. Every grandkid. I got blankets, quilts, wall art, towels, and always jammies. Grandma Grover is probably a huge part of what made Christmas magical for me and my life.
I'm going to go out on a limb, and say because of the moon position again this week, this again makes me frustratingly emotional. :)

Mail

When I was little, I thought the mailbox was magical.
Brought me letters from anonymous friends (yes, mostly my sister when she went to stay with my Aunt), and pen pals, and cousins when they went on trips.
When I was about 12, I got onto the magazine thing. You know, subscribe, and then cancel, but they still send you 3 months for free.
Oh, and get this, I remember when it was a quarter and a penny. I could put that change in the mailbox, with my envelope, and the mail lady would put a stamp on it for me. That's a funny little memory.
When I went to college my Grandma D would write me, I had missionaries that loved mail as much as I did, and I would get an occasional care package from mom.
Mission Mail had its ups and downs. Love from home in it's varies forms- family, packages,(the ups) and wedding announcements (the downs). (I can tell you exactly where I was standing upon receiving a couple of those heartbreaker, hopebreaker, envelopes of love.) But probably the worst was not getting any mail. That, was hard.
When Cody and I first got married, His mom would write us weekly. And, about once a month, send a box- some of my favorite mail of my whole life. It was random stuff, but always, fun stuff.
Today? I hate mail. It's only bills. I still have a desire to go get it, walk to the mailbox, watch for the postman to drive away. But it's always a disappointment.

Pea Green Soup

Awhile back I told my kids the Pea Green Soup joke. Yes, of course, it was over a meal of Pea Green Soup.
Well, they think its hilarious and retell it to me, on a very frequent basis. We sort of of love jokes.
It will vary occasionally, with whatever we are eating for dinner or whatever has caught their funny bone. Last night we got a good one.
Creeden- Mom, say Bread after everything I say.
me- ok
Creeden- What did you eat for breakfast?
me- bread
Creeden- What did you eat for lunch?
me-bread
Creeden- what did you eat for dinner?
me- bread
Creeden- What did you do all night?
me-  uuuuuhhhhh.......

Wranglers.

I obsess. Maybe because I am a pisces. Maybe because I am a middle child. Maybe because I am Mormon. Maybe all of the above. Maybe that will be my next 5 blog entries...
Over a decade ago I read a blog that related a story and as a complete side note to the story it veered to the left on how a) terrible people who wear wranglers are, and b) how taxidermy is of the devil. I may slightly be embellishing the feeling but not much. Everyone has the right to their own feelings. I guess that is called prejudices ya? so why has it ate at me for over 11 years? A couple of reasons; first, I am a social worker. I understand that people are more than the tag on their pants, the art on their wall, or the foundation color they buy at the store. (Which, by the way, if you are going to fight for all people to love with no prejudices, but then are prejudice against a tag on a pair of pants, I think there is a fundamental disturbance) And second; because even tho, I cannot pull off looking good in Wranglers, I ADORE so many people in my life who can, and do!! I AM the person I AM because of Wrangler work ethic and deep down grit.
Perhaps the problem is in the definition. My definition of Wrangler Jeans:  Hard work. Understanding of long hours, real sweat, sacrifice. They are long lasting, steady, sturdy. To me, they mean hauling hay, chasing cows, spending time with my dad and Grandpas, sitting in the front seat of the truck, drinking orange Crush, and my country life.
Then, the taxidermy aspect of life. Anyone who has been in my families home a minute, knows that when you mock this you mock me. Do I hunt? No. Weird that I care right? Yes. It is weird. There are 2 authors on this formentioned blog. I don't know which person, A or person B wrote it. One of them spent time in my home that holds multiple animals on the walls. Ouch. Yes, I am also self-centered. I believe it was a personal attack. (I guess that means I have  6 following blog entries...)
Yes. You should feel sorry for Cody, because in all the memory lapses I do have, there are just as many that don't escape and that I chew on forever. Exhausting. My mom used to say the W on the pockets is for Wonderful Wayne. Love that! :) I guess by writing this out, maybe my mind will shut the door on this memory. And, maybe just maybe it will act as a reminder to be nice. About everyone. To everyone. Just be nice. Just love. And well, maybe it's my problem after all.

Haiti

Haiti.
Yep. 

I’ve had a lot of extra time to think lately. 
Eight days without an actual schedule or real commitments will do that to ya. Make you think. 
Last week President Trump (may or may have not) said some mean things about Haiti. Weird thing is, then I went there. I was there less than 24 hours. I was taken to specific places, and met specific people. I was a guest. I saw only what they wanted me to see. True.  
Did you know that maybe countries are like people? I have very ugly sides, created by insecurity. I have very scary places, created by fear. But, just like Haiti, there may be some beautiful thrown in there along the way.  Countries may be the same. But I wonder,  Maybe, if we take a little time to see, and value, and build, and appreciate, maybe  we can find the most beautiful thing we will ever be a part of, people and countries. ❤️❤️❤️❤️