More of "After the Tears" -- my book

Just a little note -- This was a really bad time one year after "The Discovery" of the addiction.  Keep in my mind that we have made it through -- together.  This was a really hard section to write and an even harder section for Marty to read, but a necessary one.

            “August 6, 2006.  ‘Expletive, you expletive!’  Yes, these are words my sweet loving husband said to me.  Yes, he is the one who had the nerve to cheat on me with pornography and masturbation and took care of his ‘needs’ himself.  He will not treat me that way, not ever!  He tells me to divorce him and marry someone else!  Does he think I don’t wish I could?  Does he think I like being married to a sex addict?   I have to worry he might relapse and leave me completely out of the equation!  I hate it!  The only thing that has kept me going is I thought we loved each other and he treasured me enough and he would never relapse.

            “BS!!  Anyone who can say those two things to me CAN relapse and I will not be around for that.  I CANNOT!

            “He says he wants it over – fine with me!  I hate him!

            “He says he is tired!  HE’S TIRED?  I don’t think so.

            “ I have taken three xanax and eaten two bowls of brownies and ice cream   Really tasty, but deadly.  [After the Tears – It took almost five years from discovery for me to see I was developing a dependence on xanax.  While I was able to give them up without too much trouble, I did realize I had used them inappropriately and had to take a hard look at prescription drugs, myself, and addiction.]  I don’t know or want to die, sometimes I feel like it doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t seem like I’m doing anyone any good.  I stuck by him and now its over so . . . “

            “August 7, 2006, Slept until 11:30 a.m. and took a couple more xanax.  Don’t know what to do.  I feel so empty, so hopeless, like there is nothing left. . . . I feel so empty and I don’t have it in me.  How can I be okay?  The one person with whom I was supposed to be safe has already betrayed me at the deepest, most intimate level.  The man who loved me, made covenants in the Temple, and watched me go through four very difficult births has let me down.  I tried to trust again.  I tried to believe again.  I stayed with him.  I have been intimate with him.  I told him okay, I will trust you and believe in us, even though the 22 previous years have been a lie.  I have let go and allowed him my trust in using the Internet for his MBA.  I have let go and tried to be understanding and what does it get me – ‘Expletive, you expletive!’

            “I don’t know what I feel.  At first, shock, anger, hurt, pain, disgust and now – nothing.  Granted that could be the xanax.  I don’t know but I haven’t heard the right things from him, so is it over?  I guess so.

            “My new ministry will be get out while you can.  I am sorry but the best thing for anyone who might fall in love with an addict is to run!  There doesn’t seem to be hope for any of us.  If not Marty and I, then who?

            “I haven’t felt this devoid of feeling in a very long time.  I am in the depths!  Too deep to even pray."

First of my last Parent/Teacher Conferences

I had a very pleasant experience today going to Nic's P/T conferences.  They all had good things to say about him and his personality and contributions to the classroom.  The grades are pretty good with a little room for improvement.  Kind of boring, right?  Let me share some of my more memorable P/T Conferences.

Andrea -- Every teacher would tell us she was a wonderful student that participated in class and she knew her stuff.  Every teacher would say she was so intelligent and well spoken.  So what if her grade is an "F" at mid-term and an "H" in citizenship.  If she would just turn her homework in.  I would say, I try, but watch, she'll have it up to "A" or "B" by the end of term.  So freakin' frustrating and so funny!!!

One more little fact about Andrea:  She spent her Sr. year in California.  My sister found out that she had an English assignment that was due the next day.  A big one.  She had to write an essay about Martin Luther King.  Andrea went to the computer and pounded out an essay in about 35 minutes time.  My sister was "whatever -- "  It was turned and Andrea won a statewide essay contest with that 35 minute essay.  Blew all of our minds!

Rachael -- ditto above, with the addition, she is such a leader and the class will go as Rachael goes.  Meaning, if she behaved well, then so did the class and if she wanted to screw around, then so would the entire class.

Matthew -- ditto above, with "he's so nice and sweet."

Voices for Virtue or Voices in Anger?

I do subscribe to Voices for Virtue on Facebook and usually have enjoyed it.  Now I need to explain that my problem is more about the people who have commented on the video below.  Following is my post on Voices:

I loved it. We do believe we are working to become worthy to have our own worlds, and we do believe that the Garden of Eden was in Missouri and we do believe that President Monson does talk to God. We were, are and will be a peculiar people and that does invite attacks. I have more problems with Big Love and Sister Wives than a musical portraying our beliefs in a light manner. We are going to have to be able to have a sense of humor. Use the opportunity of the publicity of this musical to share what you believe in a more serious manner, if you choose. We do a disservice to ourselves if we behave in the manner of some of your denouncements of this play. I'm a Mormon and I just believe! lol


One last comment -- this musical or the people who stand at the temple gates in temple robes over street cloths and throwing our scriptures on the ground and dragging them around by a rope ... ?


I really believe that we need to lighten up!  I know there are some songs that I will not purchase from this musical because they are a little offensive to me, but the notoriety the Church is getting from this musical is huge and if we respond with un-Christ like language and behavior, we are going to do more harm.  I wanted to take a poll and see how many of the negative comments came from "Utah Mormons."  Sorry my Utah friends, but it is what it is!


Look at the Colbert report that people  liked so much -- was it that much different?  I think not!


http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/394360/august-10-2011/yaweh-or-no-way----mormons---god-s-poll-numbers?xrs=share_copy

[HD] Tony Awards 2011 - The Book of Mormon - I Believe - Andrew Rannells...

Another line moved, but too late to make amends

I had a good relationship with my mom growing up.  She was two different moms for her two different families.  She had four kids one right after another and I can't speak to the kind of mom she was to them.  I just know there is a lot of resentment and anger about their childhoods.  Then after 5 years, she had my brother and then five more years and me.

By the time I came along, she went to work at the Hospital.  Mom and Dad had money by then and things were a little better.  So, I had fun with my mom -- trips to Utah, trips to Northern California, shopping trips to San Diego, etc.

When my parents moved to Utah, my mom started to change or so I thought.  I guess what happened is that a lot of the old demons came back to her.  I knew she suffered from depression and learned that anxiety was also a problem for her.

I had very little patience for it because that is not how she was when I was growing up.  My words of wisdom were "change your attitude" and "get out more."  I think I dropped the "why don't you choose to be happy?" a couple of times.  I did not understand how she could change so much.  I was never going to be like her and I knew that I would NEVER take medicine for my moods.  Another line . . .

About 16 years ago, I started feeling a little depressed.  It was something I had noticed that had gotten a little more noticeable after the birth of each child.  In 1998, after going to Family Services for marriage counseling because I had found Marty on a pornography website and was devastated, I was prescribed prozac.  We never shared the exact reason for going to counseling, i.e. porn., because it was "too embarrassing."  So I moved one line and started taking prozac.

My relationship with my mother deteriorated throughout the years and I just didn't worry about it.  My mom passed away on New Year's Day, 2007.  I have always been grateful that I was there because I was able to wash her face and her hands and arms in the same way that she used to for me when I sick.  It was such privilege to be with her during her last hours and I did get to say I was sorry.  I didn't get to tell her "I understand," because I didn't.

Soon after her death, it became clear that I did have anxiety and a major depressive disorder.  I have been to the emergency room three times with possible heart attacks, only to find out they were panic attacks.

In November of 2009, I started not wanting to leave my house.  I felt safe there.  Almost every time I left the house for one reason or another, something would happen that showed me the outside world was not safe.  I stopped living life -- I didn't go to church.  I would set up on my couch with my viewmont blanket and my cat.  That is where I stayed.

I still don't like to leave my house, but I am a little more successful at it by now.  I have many regrets about this anxiety, but one that stands out is that I now "understand."  I would love to be able to tell my mom -- I get it.  No one, that has not experienced anxiety can understand what this is like.  I have tried to describe it to Marty and my kids, but its hard for them.  I try to be patient with their lack of understanding knowing that is what I did to my mom.

I am sad that I have to go through this.  Sad that I learned too late to tell my mom, I know!  Sad that my kids and Marty have to put up with this issue.  Anyway, I am working hard and have been working for about a year now and I do see some progress.  Not quite after the tears, but at least towards the end of the tears?

The Punching Clown Syndrome

My older sister used to tell me that I was like the old punching clown.  I would let people punch me and then I would bounce back up to take another punch.  Funny, that same older sister, punched me big time but with her, I didn't come back.

This older sister, Jade, (name changed) was my savior when I was a little kid.  She always was the one that when I got hurt, I wanted her.  She left for college but only after making sure I was going to be okay.  She got married and had five children.  I always looked up to her, she was an amazing mom and wife.  She had a son who struggled with something that I later had to deal with and she was such a support and had really great advise and I followed it.  I lost my mom to dementia in about 2000 and I counted Jade as my surrogate mom.  I took her advise on nursing my babies, I tried to live up to her in my parenting.  I failed miserably at times, but even then, she would lift me up and help me feel good about other things that I did do right.  She really was a safe place for me to fall.  Then last year, I am not even sure what happened, I really don't know what I did, except be impossibly human and hurt.  I am the weird one in our family of six -- I really want us to do things together and BE a family, but there are too many wounds and things that get in the way that I just don't understand because I was born so far behind everyone else.  I stepped on her toes and she cut me off.  It couldn't have been at a worse time -- I was so lost and so hurt and she stopped taking my calls and I haven't talked to her in over a year and a half.  I miss her.  I miss her kids and their kids.  That was one punch I cannot recover from.

I was the youngest of six kids.  From the time I was two years old, my sisters and brothers started leaving me.  My oldest sister left for BYU, my oldest brother left on a mission (its funny, to this day, I don't think he remembers he has a sister named Lisa), and it went on from there.  They all would head off and come home for holidays.  I remember sitting in my front yard watching all day for them to drive up the street for their visits.  I gloried in their times at home.  It was crowded and crazy and I loved it.  Then when it came time for them to leave, I would begin to withdraw.  Inevitably, I would get mad at them because it was easier to have them leave if I was mad.

I have carried this into my adult life.  Marty was in the military early on and he left for training and was gone for almost 8 months.  Of course, there were trainings throughout the year and then came Desert Storm when he left for 6 months.  Finally, I realized that he had been leaving me a lot with his addiction to pornography and when I discovered that and we had the explosion six years ago.  Again, I was going to be left and I was going to strike first -- I was going to be mad because then it wouldn't hurt so badly.  Luckily, we worked through it and I wasn't left.

But even when my son left for his mission, I got mad at him at the MTC for some stupid reason of not taking a picture where I wanted him to and so I was mad when he walked out of the auditorium.  My  youngest son left for basketball camp and I did the same thing.  I have really worked on this, but it is deeply ingrained in my psyche and it has been hard to overcome.

Now, my girls, my sweet daughters who I have bounced back and up again numerous times.  They know this about me and they use it to hurt.  Both of my girls are so intelligent and articulate and their greatest weapon is their speech.  They know how to throw darts at you with just enough truth in them to let it prick at your armor.  One of the things I have worked on is to not react and not respond.  They come by this talent honorably as I have used it over and over.  I am painfully human and have a low threshold for pain and I respond.  I am never proud of my behavior and I am willing to say I'm wrong when I do this.

I wrote on facebook after realizing that my two daughters have me completely blocked, or in words that I fear the most -- left me:  Someone knows you so well and you let them in on your secrets and your fears. You think you trust them and you should because they are some of the people closest to you and then they use those words or secrets against you. Your greatest fears, the most vulnerable parts of you. And all you can do is ask why?


The hardest part of this is it has sent me sliding down a hill that has taken me a year to climb.  A hill that has been loose rock with no vegetation to grab ahold of and no trail.  The people who want to help you can only watch as you struggle.  But when you start to slide, you can fall so much farther than where you started.  Doesn't seem fair.  


Well, another post of weakness.  I started this blog wanting to be a beacon of success after the tears, I just seem to be in the middle way too often.

ARP Program - Marty and I had the privilege to be in this video.

Being a BYU Fan

I always say that I am a true BYU fan.  When I lived in El Centro, California, we used to have to go driving in the desert to listen to games on KSL or if we were lucky enough to get a little radio reception, they always had me sit with one hand on the antenna and the other on some kind of metal.  My earliest memory is of cheering for Kresimir Cosic on the basketball team.  That was a long time ago.  My sister used to have a crush on him and she had a job cleaning the Marriott Center and she would get his shoes out and try them on.

The Holy War didn't mean much to me living in California, or even for the first couple of years living in Utah.  I liked to see the Y win but I didn't really care about Utah.  They were not even on my radar.  Then, it hit -- the reaction to Ute fan.  I remember going to a game with my brother, probably in the early '80's and we were cheering for the Y and some Ute fan tried to pick a fight with my brother because we were in Rice Stadium and were Cougar fans.  I don't know, I thought we paid for a ticket, so we could be there.  That was the start of the dislike.

Over time, I have gone to several games at Utah and have been wholly unimpressed by their fans.  Now, I must say, mostly their drunk fans.  I don't know what the excuse is for Coug fans in our stadium because not even the coca cola is leaded.  I myself have thrown a few starbursts at Ute fans.  In my defense, I missed and hit a Cougar blue hair.  My throwing days are over.

I worked at the airport for the Sugar Bowl and loved watching the true Ute fan go to New Orleans.  I would joke with them and even laugh at their taunts against the Y.  It was okay, they were true red!  I saw Brian Johnson, who might I say, is one gorgeous man.  Yes, I wanted to trip him a little, but instead I told him to have a good game.

I used to love calling DJ and PK on the radio during this rivalry week and give my 2 cents worth of banter, but its gotten too ugly and hateful, now.  I liked it when it was in good fun.  When I have called in in recent years, I have been called stupid, a dyke, an over medicated general authority's wife with a boob job.  Mean and nasty.  So, I might call but the older I get, the more tender my feelings are and so I probably will not.

Now that the Utes have made the jump to the PAC 12, I am green with envy about their schedule but I can now cheer against them without guilt.  I can glory in their losses because it doesn't matter any more what they do and how it reflects on BYU.

I have good friends who are Ute fans and I love them.  I take their "crap" with a grain of salt because I know, deep down, they are good people who have made bad choices in their life by going to the U or cheering for U or whatever.  LOL.  Love you all.  Please be nice.

Anyway, I am going to predict a BYU win 34-31 just because I hate that score.  I hope it comes down to the last minute and I hope it is a pass to our tight end.  The Cougs seem to like to do that to the Utes.

But no matter what happens -- Can't we, please, all get along?

P.S. You know the true color of blood is blue, right?

Good Crazy

Someday, I will write about the not so fun crazy of last year.  Today, however, I am going to tell a funny crazy story and all of you can once again ponder at Marty's ability to put with me.

When I was pregnant with Andrea, our first baby, she was due January 24, 1984.  That day came and went.  Then on February 3, 1984, they put me in the hospital to induce me because I was getting so big.  They hooked me up early in the morning and I had the pit. drip put in.  They kept upping it because it was doing nothing.  Finally, at about 3:00, they decided to send me home.  WHAT????  Yep, send me home because the drip didn't work.  Nothing was happening.  My doctor told me that if I had contractions over the next day or so, to take some peragoric (yes, he really did) and then take a bath.  If the contractions stopped I was not in labor.  He didn't specify what to do if they did not quit, so you will see what I decided to do.

Marty drove a sobbing and distraught wife home that night.  I shared with him that obviously, I wasn't pregnant anymore.  Where's the baby, he would ask and I would say who knows?  The drip didn't work!  He went to work the next day and I stayed home.  I did have some contractions and so I would take the peragoric, go take a bath and wait.  The contractions didn't stop, so much like shampooing I would rinse and repeat.  Meaning, take some peragoric, get in the tub and wait, and so on and so on.

My mom and Grandma Treseder came to see me at about 4:00 in the afternoon.  Mom timed my contractions and told me that I was indeed in labor.  I looked at her and thought, through a peragoric haze, yeah right - I'm not pregnant.  They left and mom called Marty and told him he better get home because I was in labor.  He called me and I told him I was fine and just stay there at work.

He got home at 9:00 that night and found a very out of it and clean wife.  He timed my contractions and they were about 5 to 7 minutes apart.  He said let's go to the hospital.  I said what for -- I'm not pregnant. Finally, after a phone call with my doctor, he got me in the car and to the hospital at about 11:30 that night.  They checked me in and I was dilated to a 7 and we had our 9 pound 7 ounce girl at 3:30 a.m.  What do you know -- it wasn't a watermelon, it really was a baby.

When Andrea could talk, which was early, when I would call her to come to me she would often say to me "I busy!"  I realize now that is what she was saying on the day they tried to induce me -- "I busy!"

Lines I've had to move

When I was a kid, my dad used to tell me "don't pound stakes you are not willing to pull up."  Translation: don't take stands, you might change your mind on some things.  Like -- I used to say I would never, NEVER clean my kids noses with just my fingers like my sister did.  Guess what -- when you have a snotty nosed kid and you have nothing else, you do it.  You might gag, but you do it.

When I finally accepted the fact that Matt was gay and was going to choose that lifestyle, I put down quite a few lines that I would not cross -- no matter what.

I was not ever going to meet his partner.  I didn't even want to know his name.  As a matter of fact, I de-friended Matt because I didn't want to even see a picture of him.  After a difficult summer, I went to do some counseling and my therapist asked me why I hadn't met Matt's partner.  I didn't have a good reason.  If I were being completely honest, every fiber of "mommy" being wanted to meet this person that was so important in my son's life.  I called Matt and asked him if he and Trent could go to brunch with me.  Matt was so happy and touched that I wanted to meet Trent.  I realized that if I wanted to have Matt be in my life, I could not ask him to cut out someone so important to be with me.

I was very nervous to meet Trent.  I loved him.  He is a great kid.  Very sweet and funny and most importantly, I could see how happy Matt was with him.  One line moved.

The next part of that line was that I would not have Matt's partner be a part of family activities.  After meeting Trent, I could see him at our house and enjoying family time with us.  I didn't necessarily see Marty enjoying that time, but I knew the kids would like Trent -- I don't know how you could not like him.  He spent Christmas evening with us after going home for Christmas and we had so much fun playing games and singing with the Glee Karioki sp/? and it was really good.  Even Marty started to melt a little.

Then when I was in the hospital in January, Trent was there with Matt.  Marty came around a corner and saw them laughing and talking and how comfortable Matt was with him and Marty decided then and there he could accept Trent.  I appreciated the fact that he would come to the hospital and spend time with me when I was so miserable.  Another line moved.

Do I regret these moves?  Absolutely not!  I regret my ignorance about this situation and the time we wasted and the angst we caused Matt.

There is no one else in my life besides Trent that tells me I look "FABULOUS."  I can see him and feel really good about myself.  Everyone should have a gay man in their life to tell them how fabulous they are.  Love you Trent.  Love you most of all, Matt!

Brad Paisley - Remind Me (Feat. Carrie Underwood) **REAL VERSION** [Lyrics]

Start of After the Tears

I was looking for a dress for my brother’s wedding and went to the history to see where I had already looked.  My eyes scanned the various sites and . . .  my heart stopped and the color drained from my face.  The world stood still as vomit came up into my mouth.   My eyes looked further down the list and saw more and more disgusting titles.  I started to shake. 

My daughter, Rachael, and my sister, were at the dining room table visiting with me.  We had been talking and laughing about the upcoming wedding and that our other brother, Bud, would be up from Arizona.

“Stop this right now,”  I told myself.  “They cannot ask you what is going on . . . what would you say?”  I sat up straighter, took a deep breath and rejoined the conversation.  What I felt had been a very long time, was in actuality, a couple of seconds and they had not noticed my distress.  After awhile, they decided to go to bed.  Everyone was in bed, except for me, as I reopened the computer.

August 19, 2005, at 7:48 p.m., the time my life changed forever.

In-laws

I have been married almost 29 years.  I could not have married into a family more different than mine  if I tried.  First of all, Marty's parents were divorced (a situation unheard of in my family to that  point) and his mom was living with Don, I think about 15 or more years, his sister was living with her boyfriend and they are not members of my church, so they enjoy a drink now and then.  His mormon grandparents just flat out didn't like me.

His family really, really, really did not want us to get married.  We were too young, too broke, too stupid, too different, etc.  When they saw that it was going to happen, to their credit, they supported us and attended everything.  I don't think anyone thought we would make it.

Marty's Grandma Grace told him to keep me off his bank accounts the night before we got married.  I remember feeling pretty ticked off about that considering he was driving my brand new car around because he didn't have one.

To top it all off, we had a baby within the first year we got married, so we were 21 and 22 years old and parents.  Again, to their credit, they fell in love with Andrea and properly spoiled her -- big time!  With each baby, my mother-in-law would state her dismay and displeasure with our choices, but dearly loved each of our kids.  With Nic, we didn't tell them I was pregnant until I was almost 7 months along and only then because our niece was coming for the summer and we had to tell them.

To further put distance between us, Marty worked very hard to let me stay home and we spent a lot of years broke.  We always figured our kids were our riches.  Also, we have stayed very active in our church and made decisions according to our faith.

I use to try to make myself into someone that they could like.  I was never accepted completely by his family.  Don, from the beginning, always made me feel loved and accepted, but he was the only one.  I remember one time, they took family pictures and I was really heavy at the time and I noticed that they never used them at all.  At family events, I tried to stay out of pictures, it was just easier.

Finally, about ten years ago, I realized that I didn't need their approval or even their love.  I will never call my mother-in-law mom, it just doesn't fit.  Once I decided this, I was able to relax and enjoy myself when we were with them.  I could be myself and say what I wanted to say instead of what I thought they would want me to say.

I really don't want this to sound negative.  It really is not.  Marty and I have chosen to take a completely different path than his family and that is okay.  I guess that is why I am sharing these thoughts.  It was very freeing for me once I realized that they didn't "have" to love me or accept me.  Marty loves me and that is all that matters.  Its been nice to find my own voice and share it and consequences be da@$!%.

I have a lot of respect for his mom.  She had a very difficult life as a single parent of two young children with no help from their dad.  She moved up in her profession because of her intelligence and work ethic. She instilled that same work ethic in Marty and I appreciate that.  I believe that I have been a good wife and mother and I decided that was the best way to show love and respect to my in-laws.

Family Wars

My two oldest kids were and are best friends.  Very seldom did they fight with each other.  They were in a constant struggle against us, their parents, but always had each other's backs.  There was the time they decided to pack their own lunches.  They would dump the lunches I made into the trash and then pack mustard sandwiches and about 20 mini candy bars.  I don't know how long this went on, but finally Matt's first grade teacher asked me if I needed lessons in nutrition and explained the kids' lunches.

Then, there was the chocolate they spilled on the front room carpet and decided to use bleach to clean it.  Neither one admitted who did what.  There were the mysterious stains on their closet bifold doors that I found years later were the remains of their three musketeer bar sandwiches they would make.

Then the last two came along and they fight constantly.  If one says the sky is blue, the other will fight to the death to say it is not.  It gets to the point where Marty and I just close our door and hope they don't kill each other.  I have read 3 Nephi to them so many times about contention being of the devil that I am sure they could recite it chapter and verse.  Unfortunately, they don't get rid of the contention.

I keep hoping that maturity will help them get along.  I have given the mom lecture of "we are family and we are really all we've got."  "When the chips are down, we will be there and no one else will be."  Blah blah blah.

I will check back post-mission.  Maybe it will be peaceful then.

Future Posts

My oldest child

I don't know about other people, but I can admit that I was not a great mom for my oldest daughter.  I am not using her name because, right now, she is angry at me and will not talk with anyone in our family, so I feel like I need to honor that and not bust her out by her name.

I call my oldest my "experiment child."  I tried many things while parenting her and most of them were failures.  The first thing I realized is I was waaaayyyy too strict with her.  I controlled what she wore, what she did with her free time, everything.  I cut her hair in the first grade when she begged me not to, but I wanted to make it easier for me to deal with.  She was really a pretty good kid but the one way she could control something in her life and give a capital SCREW YOU to her parents was her grades in jr. high and high school.  At midterm, we would go in with her all F's report card and then for citizenship, she would have Honors.  All of her teachers would say, if she would just turn in her homework . . . then by the end of the term, she would pull all the grades up to mostly A's and a couple of B's.  That used to send me over the edge and she knew it.

I have apologized over the years and explained that when we knew better, we did better.  That has not been good enough.  I have wracked my brain and would love to know what I could say to her that would give her peace about her childhood.  She was not mistreated or abused.  I did work a lot when she was little but she was definitely the apple of our eyes.  Someday when she has processed her anger, maybe she can clue me in.

This experience has been very painful for all of us and I wish it was over.  All I can say is that I am still learning, but that I have always loved my children and would give my life for them if needed.

My son, Matt.

I said when I started this blog I was going to share hard things.  I recently came across this talk given by a mother of a gay son living in Oakland, California.  Prop 8 and the Church and the issue of being gay and LDS has brought to light some really difficult and unpleasant things.

Honestly, I am so glad I live in Utah and did not have to face a "prop 8" in my own home state.  I know how I would have voted which was FOR Prop 8, but I do not know how I would have balanced my beliefs that it was the correct thing to do and my love for my gay 25 year old son.  I would like to think I would stand up and be counted for what I believe to be right, but I am pretty sure I would have chickened out and just hit the ballot box.  I don't think I could have campaigned against my son and his partner, Trent.

I wept as I read this mother's talk remembering all those emotions upon discovering my son, Matt, was gay.  Asking my son and "he answered, pouring out years of grief and heartache, wishing it wasn’t so, wanting to be just like everyone else,  yet knowing he was not."


Holding him in my arms as he wept and said over and over again -- "I just want to be normal."  I didn't have the clarity this mother had immediately.  She states:   "I assured him of our love and understanding, our unwavering support and loyalty, but when in absolute despair he said, “what’s the point of going on? I can’t ever marry in the temple and have a family, how do I get to the celestial kingdom? What happens to ME?”  I had no answers. I still don’t. I could not advise him to keep coming to church, to hope for peace in the next life. There are graveyards full of young latter-day-saints who have tried.   I CHOOSE LIFE FOR MY CHILD. I would rather have him alive, living an authentic life, true to who he is, than to live a stalwart steadfast lie that backs him into a suicidal corner."


I was able to assure him of our unconditional love, but the rest of that statement was lost to me until I read her words and it clarified so beautifully how I felt for Matt.  


I can't lie -- I wish he had made a different decision as far as living the lifestyle.  He did not CHOOSE to be gay.  Like he said -- "why would I choose this?  I would much rather be sitting next to Cheltsey in Church holding our two kids with one on the way."  He could not see his way clear to turn his back on his "authentic" self and travel this life's road completely alone.


I hope that someday Matt will return to Church and worship with us.  There is a young man that shared his story about being Gay and LDS at the same conference.  He talks about his experience during the Sacrament:


"Yet when the Sacrament is passed, and I bow my head and speak my sorrow to my Heavenly Father, something equally grand happens. Almost without exception, a feeling washes over me from deep inside my soul. A tender, warm, yet powerful feeling—and a voice that tells me, “You belong here.” Not when I have it all figured out, not when I am straight, not when I know all the answers—but today, right here, right now. With you. That, my dear brothers and sisters, is why I am Mormon. Because I belong here."


We are very open about having a gay son.  Our children are proud of him and so are Marty and I.  He is a beautiful, kind, loving man and we are lucky to have him as a son.

                                           My son, Matt, is in the middle of his two cousins.

Football

I love football.  I love football all the time, but especially when my boys play.  I had butterflies in my stomach at the parents' meeting this summer.  I could not wait to sit in the stands and watch my son play football at Viewmont again.  I loved it when Matt played.  He wasn't an all star, but he always did a great job and worked hard.  With Nic, I will admit, I expect a little more.  He is my jock.  I expect that he will be out on that field and that he will play well and make a difference.  Its been a little bit of a struggle to start out, but he didn't play football last year and he has had to play catch up a little bit.  The varsity kids that we know keep telling us to be patient, because he is a stud and will be a starter and an impact lineman.  We shall see.  Here are a few pictures from this first two games as a Viking.

The Grandpuppy

Matt calls me this morning and asks me if we can dogsit, Josh, while he and Trent go to Delta.  So many things come to mind when asked this question -- will my cat make it through?  Will Marty not kill the dog? Josh is my only grand whatever by blood so we have him for a couple of days.

A New Beginning

About six years ago, I made a discovery that changed my life, my relationship with my husband of then 22 years and my children.  At that time, I knew I was going to light up the world and be an advocate for women and bring the subject of pornography and its devestating affects on families and marriages to the forefront and write a book.  Well, this week, I sent off a manuscript which was the final thing I needed to do to accomplish what I wanted to do six years ago.

Now, I want to share this blog and feelings that I have as a wife and mother.  My children are my greatest joy and my deepest sorrow. 

My husband is my best friend, my lover, my confidante, my protagonist, my prince, my provider, my biggest cheerleader and my biggest pain in the rear.

Often I will say that I have five children counting him and the four I gave birth to.  They all have given me stretch marks, worry lines, laugh lines and gray hair.  They have all caused me to shed tears of sorrow and tears of joy, so After the Tears was born.