{One clarification -- this is not about any leadership in our ward or stake. These people work for an agency and are paid and one couple is acting as coordinators.}
Okay, I know I might ruffle some feathers with the following observations. I grew up in California and we used to joke about "Utah" Mormons. Of course, the gospel is true where ever it is, it just seems that Utah Mormons think it is more true here and the way it is practiced or lived here is the true and correct way and Davis County is very much guilty of that thinking.
If that were true, my testimony would really be in danger. I have just gone through an experience where I have dedicated my life to serving in a particular position. I have stood in front of hundreds of people and told our story which has been a difficult task, at times. I need to stop here and say that I never begrudged this, and almost always gave thanks and felt very privileged that people felt what Marty and I had gone through and learned was of value.
Unfortunately, some people can become a little prideful and greedy and anxious for power. Those of you that know Marty and I know that we are not ones to just follow the Pied Piper. If we see something that we think is being done incorrectly, we will speak up. That is where corporate America meets up with the Church (not the gospel). We have this little kingdom in Davis County that I feel has gone off the rails and when I spoke my opinion, I suddenly found myself off in a corner, not being used in presentations. Because things were not going to change, Marty and I decided to walk away. No hard feelings -- concentrate on Nic and someday do this again.
You cannot believe the emails and phone calls that we have been getting from the "leadership." Then when I wanted to meet with the people above and made a phone call to see about that, apparently I tried to call the King or royal family and that caused a whole uproar. I just want to move on.
The last edict we got was that we are no longer allowed to attend the group that we have been going to for 6 1/2 years. This same group that we started with and healed with. We have been told it might make the new missionaries uncomfortable. So my dear sisters -- I don't know what I'm going to do about that, but you will understand why I stay away for awhile.
Its a good thing that I recognize that people are human and can try to use unrighteous dominion when they want to stay in power and someone threatens that power. This will not endanger my testimony of the gospel or this program. No human can do that because both come from God.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
The Family Secret
I have visited with several people lately and feel like this post needs to be reposted. Not necessarily for my experience, but the information that might help other people:
I haven't wanted to post lately because I felt like maybe I was being too negative. Then I realized that one of the reasons I started this blog was to be open and honest and remove the mask of being a member of the LDS Church and being a wife and mother in this day and age, particularly with the challenges that God has given me.
I have stated in earlier posts that my mother suffered from depression and anxiety and there is a long line before her and several people right along with me in this challenge. I have been preparing myself to share what goes into that depression and anxiety meltdown. I have had a couple, but one very severe one that ended in a hospital stay.
Its funny, some LDS members look at mental illness as an sign of sin. There is a book by Elder Alexander B. Morrison called Valley of Sorrow, a layman's guide to mental illness. He asks why there is still such a misunderstanding and fear of mental illness. It should be seen as it really is, the mental "equivalent" of physical disorders. He believes the way to change attitudes "is to bring light where there is darkness, knowledge where there is ignorance, and reason where there is superstition."
He talks about the "widespread, long-held public attitudes that attribute mental illness to divine punishments only increase the problem. Latter-day Saints are particularly vulnerable to these false beliefs." "All too often it is assumed by uninformed people that those who are suffering from mental illness are somehow responsible for their plight, that they have brought it upon themselves by sinful behavior." This is false.
Anyone who has seen the unbearable pain of a severe panic attack knows full well that nobody would suffer that way if all that was needed was to show a little willpower. No one who has witnessed the almost indescribable sadness of a severely depressed person, who perhaps can't even get out of bed, who cries all day, retreats into hopeless apathy, or tries to kill herself, would ever think for a moment that mental illness is just a problem of willpower.
In this book, his daughter shares: "I seem to be in the middle of a never-ending nightmare of blackness and despair, so fatigued both physically and emotionally I know not where to turn. Many days I longed for death -- it seemed the only door open to me." I very easily could write these very words.
"I was too frightened to go to church. . . . all I could do was to walk in one door of the church and out the other door. Staying for even five minutes just wasn't possible, even though I longed with all my heart to do so and prayed over and over again for the necessary strength." I have been unable to attend church with any regularity since November of 2009. I have had many well meaning people just tell me visualize going to church and just buck up and do it. I want to say to them, if it was that easy, do they not believe I would be at church?
People, who are well meaning, often invite me to go to dinner, a movie or something and I will say yes, but as the time gets closer, I will find a way not to go. I am blessed with a dear friend who understands now, but not many others do understand. I become choked with fear and doubt and can't go. I have little self-confidence and loneliness is almost more than I can bear.
In some ways, I have died. My talents, potential dignity, self-worth, etc. all have been killed by this illness. I dare not completely allow myself to feel the full pain of these losses.
I have been angry with God. Why hasn't this burden been lifted, if not for me, then for my family?
So, maybe this helps people understand this illness. In June of 2010, I had reached a time when my medication had been changed AGAIN which means I had to wean off of the old and start slow on the new. In addition, there were several other types of medication for anxiety, etc. One afternoon, when I was beyond the depth of despair to get on my knees and when my mind had convinced me that my family would better off without me, I shut my bedroom door and locked it. I set out a different medication to confuse any EMT's and then pulled about 30 pills out of the trash can and swallowed them. I lay down on my bed and waited. Slowly thoughts started running through my mind. At the time, I was a missionary for the ARP program and I had several sisters in that group that I had worked with and had grown to love. I wondered what my dying would do to them. Then I thought of my kids having to find me and that was unacceptable. I finally reached for the phone and called poison control and soon after was in the ER.
It wasn't that I didn't want to die -- I did. I just didn't want to feel the pain anymore, it was too much. More importantly, I didn't want to hurt my children and those people I love by having to find me that way. I spent a week in the Psych Unit at Lakeside Hospital.
I wish I could say that solved the problem. It didn't. There were many time I was driving and just thought "drive right under that semi-truck." Another time, I was walking along a busy road and kept telling myself to step out into traffic.
I hope this helps someone -- either someone that is in my shoes or has a loved one who is struggling. I wish I had a happy ending and could tie a bow around the whole story, but it is still ongoing.
I haven't wanted to post lately because I felt like maybe I was being too negative. Then I realized that one of the reasons I started this blog was to be open and honest and remove the mask of being a member of the LDS Church and being a wife and mother in this day and age, particularly with the challenges that God has given me.
I have stated in earlier posts that my mother suffered from depression and anxiety and there is a long line before her and several people right along with me in this challenge. I have been preparing myself to share what goes into that depression and anxiety meltdown. I have had a couple, but one very severe one that ended in a hospital stay.
Its funny, some LDS members look at mental illness as an sign of sin. There is a book by Elder Alexander B. Morrison called Valley of Sorrow, a layman's guide to mental illness. He asks why there is still such a misunderstanding and fear of mental illness. It should be seen as it really is, the mental "equivalent" of physical disorders. He believes the way to change attitudes "is to bring light where there is darkness, knowledge where there is ignorance, and reason where there is superstition."
He talks about the "widespread, long-held public attitudes that attribute mental illness to divine punishments only increase the problem. Latter-day Saints are particularly vulnerable to these false beliefs." "All too often it is assumed by uninformed people that those who are suffering from mental illness are somehow responsible for their plight, that they have brought it upon themselves by sinful behavior." This is false.
Anyone who has seen the unbearable pain of a severe panic attack knows full well that nobody would suffer that way if all that was needed was to show a little willpower. No one who has witnessed the almost indescribable sadness of a severely depressed person, who perhaps can't even get out of bed, who cries all day, retreats into hopeless apathy, or tries to kill herself, would ever think for a moment that mental illness is just a problem of willpower.
In this book, his daughter shares: "I seem to be in the middle of a never-ending nightmare of blackness and despair, so fatigued both physically and emotionally I know not where to turn. Many days I longed for death -- it seemed the only door open to me." I very easily could write these very words.
"I was too frightened to go to church. . . . all I could do was to walk in one door of the church and out the other door. Staying for even five minutes just wasn't possible, even though I longed with all my heart to do so and prayed over and over again for the necessary strength." I have been unable to attend church with any regularity since November of 2009. I have had many well meaning people just tell me visualize going to church and just buck up and do it. I want to say to them, if it was that easy, do they not believe I would be at church?
People, who are well meaning, often invite me to go to dinner, a movie or something and I will say yes, but as the time gets closer, I will find a way not to go. I am blessed with a dear friend who understands now, but not many others do understand. I become choked with fear and doubt and can't go. I have little self-confidence and loneliness is almost more than I can bear.
In some ways, I have died. My talents, potential dignity, self-worth, etc. all have been killed by this illness. I dare not completely allow myself to feel the full pain of these losses.
I have been angry with God. Why hasn't this burden been lifted, if not for me, then for my family?
So, maybe this helps people understand this illness. In June of 2010, I had reached a time when my medication had been changed AGAIN which means I had to wean off of the old and start slow on the new. In addition, there were several other types of medication for anxiety, etc. One afternoon, when I was beyond the depth of despair to get on my knees and when my mind had convinced me that my family would better off without me, I shut my bedroom door and locked it. I set out a different medication to confuse any EMT's and then pulled about 30 pills out of the trash can and swallowed them. I lay down on my bed and waited. Slowly thoughts started running through my mind. At the time, I was a missionary for the ARP program and I had several sisters in that group that I had worked with and had grown to love. I wondered what my dying would do to them. Then I thought of my kids having to find me and that was unacceptable. I finally reached for the phone and called poison control and soon after was in the ER.
It wasn't that I didn't want to die -- I did. I just didn't want to feel the pain anymore, it was too much. More importantly, I didn't want to hurt my children and those people I love by having to find me that way. I spent a week in the Psych Unit at Lakeside Hospital.
I wish I could say that solved the problem. It didn't. There were many time I was driving and just thought "drive right under that semi-truck." Another time, I was walking along a busy road and kept telling myself to step out into traffic.
I hope this helps someone -- either someone that is in my shoes or has a loved one who is struggling. I wish I had a happy ending and could tie a bow around the whole story, but it is still ongoing.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Good Better Best
For the last six years, I have attended a meeting on Sunday night at Woods Cross Seminary for wives of men who are addicted to pornography. This is called PASG (Pornography Addiction Support Group). About four months ago, they started a program for family members called "Healing through Christ" for which I was able to be the missionary.
When I walked into that meeting six years ago last August, I was the walking wounded. I was hurt, angry, scared, sad, without hope, abandoned (okay, I could go on, but I think you get the picture). That group saved my life that night. Listening to women who had been through what I had been through and they were laughing and smiling and expressing hope about their future. It was enough to stop my slide and for me to start trying to pick up the pieces.
At some point, I was asked to be a facilitator. A facilitator is someone who is working the steps and is doing pretty well and shares their thoughts and successes with the group. In July of 2008, Marty and I became the missionaries for that group. What a wonderful and humbling experience that has been. I was thinking about how many women I have come in contact with through this group. Some were there when I started, but eventually stopped coming as they healed. Others would come once and decide it wasn't for them. Some that come and stay for a couple of years and are still attending. Each one left something for me, some impression on my soul, some thought they verbalized that has stayed with me.
Last night, I had to say goodbye to them as their missionary. This was a long and difficult process to come to that decision, but I am very at peace with it. Nic is a sophomore and 2 and 1/2 years away from leaving on his mission and Marty and I feel it is very important for us to spend this time with him.
Being a missionary for these women came with lots of love for them, compassion and worry. I spent a lot of hours praying for them and thinking about what each of them were going through. I hope, now, I can still be aware and pray, but some of that heaviness will leave.
I sat in the room with 25 of my dear sisters and friends. So much healing is happening within this group. There is still a lot of pain, and will continue to have pain, but the reality of our Savior's love manifests itself every week in that room where healing takes place. As these women share their experience, hope, love, anger, joy and so many other emotions, it seems that someone in that room needed to hear what another sister may say.
I love these women and will miss the opportunity to serve them. However, they are my friends and I will always be there for them. I think they know that. So Sunday nights are now mine. The decision between good, better and best had to made even if a large part of me feels like being a missionary was the best, another part recognizes being a mom to Nic is really the best.
When I walked into that meeting six years ago last August, I was the walking wounded. I was hurt, angry, scared, sad, without hope, abandoned (okay, I could go on, but I think you get the picture). That group saved my life that night. Listening to women who had been through what I had been through and they were laughing and smiling and expressing hope about their future. It was enough to stop my slide and for me to start trying to pick up the pieces.
At some point, I was asked to be a facilitator. A facilitator is someone who is working the steps and is doing pretty well and shares their thoughts and successes with the group. In July of 2008, Marty and I became the missionaries for that group. What a wonderful and humbling experience that has been. I was thinking about how many women I have come in contact with through this group. Some were there when I started, but eventually stopped coming as they healed. Others would come once and decide it wasn't for them. Some that come and stay for a couple of years and are still attending. Each one left something for me, some impression on my soul, some thought they verbalized that has stayed with me.
Last night, I had to say goodbye to them as their missionary. This was a long and difficult process to come to that decision, but I am very at peace with it. Nic is a sophomore and 2 and 1/2 years away from leaving on his mission and Marty and I feel it is very important for us to spend this time with him.
Being a missionary for these women came with lots of love for them, compassion and worry. I spent a lot of hours praying for them and thinking about what each of them were going through. I hope, now, I can still be aware and pray, but some of that heaviness will leave.
I sat in the room with 25 of my dear sisters and friends. So much healing is happening within this group. There is still a lot of pain, and will continue to have pain, but the reality of our Savior's love manifests itself every week in that room where healing takes place. As these women share their experience, hope, love, anger, joy and so many other emotions, it seems that someone in that room needed to hear what another sister may say.
I love these women and will miss the opportunity to serve them. However, they are my friends and I will always be there for them. I think they know that. So Sunday nights are now mine. The decision between good, better and best had to made even if a large part of me feels like being a missionary was the best, another part recognizes being a mom to Nic is really the best.
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