I feel better now. I talked. And then I talked some more. It was a therapy session for free. I have a friend. :) A very dear friend. I met her almost ten years ago. I was pregnant with Aspen. She had loads of baby girl clothes to give away and I believe someone told her about me or told me about her. Anywho. The first time we talked I think we talked for two hours. And it pretty much has been that way ever since. We both have moved all over the country staying in contact, and now we are both settled here in Utah, but I got here first ;) We both homeschool. Not a needed for a friendship, but it has been a blessing. We are able to call each other when we forget why we do it, get discouraged or remember why we do it and just have to share. It is one of those friendships that if we go a month with out talking we truly can just pick up right where we left off. The best part of conversing with this dear friend is that I ALWAYS feel better after talking with her. We share insights and motivating happenings in life. I cashed in today, however, my "therapy session" card. It felt so good to talk about my trip to TN. It was hard for me. I felt lonely and judged and like some how I was wrong for being me. I feel better though now. I feel heard. The great thing about my dear friend, let's call her Beckie :) is that if I am wrong about something she will tell me. I like that kind of honesty. She is encouraging, inspiring, funny and offers the fluffiness that I lack in my life. And for the record her name is Beckie, but that isn't her birth name, just something else I like about that girl :)

I have been here in Tennessee for almost two weeks. Okay 10 days. But it feels like a month. This trip has been very hard for me. I know I am not the only one out there to struggle with family, but this experience has felt very lonely.

I wrote the previous post in my first couple of days here. I felt and continue to feel that there is this perfection box I am expected to exist in. I have felt cornered and judged for how I handle my children, myself and my life. I have felt scorned when I didn't do or say something just the right way. I have felt unaccepted and unloved.

My husband's family isn't mean by any definition. I just see life through different eyes than them.

One day I was asked why I don't try to do things to make a person happy. The way I communicate was interpreted as contentious and attacking. I was told that I needed to be nicer and try harder to make a person feel happy.

Oh goodness the Pandora's box that opened. One of the first lessons you learn in therapy is that you are NOT responsible for another person feelings. Cordial, kind, clear communication is essential in life. But walking on egg shells and saying what needs to be said so as to assure no hard feelings...that is abuse. Yes ma'am. Many would disagree, but I think that is because they want people to talk to them like that. They don't want to be offended, they don't want to hear anything bad or have their feelings hurt. They don't want to be wrong.

I went through five years of therapy to learn how to overcome an entire life of having to say something just the right way so that I wouldn't get beaten or slapped or abused in some way. I learned that people are responsible for their feelings. NOT me. I am responsible for the clear communication and kindness part. If someone doesn't understand or is offended by what I say it is their job to communicate that to me. It is not requisite that I try to interpret what they are feeling or thinking. That is dysfunction at its best. That is where manipulation and codependency is bread. We do NOT own each others feelings, we do NOT have to read minds.

People don't want to hear that someone else is not responsible for their feelings. We are in society plagued with emotional selfishness. "You take care of me, but I dont' have to take care of you". Or the other side of that is "I must take care of everyone and make sure they like me." Okay there are actually too many modes of thinking to post them all. Sufficeth to say we live in a society of emotional dysfunction.

My heart is just so full of emotion. My plea, my ache is for the women who walk on egg shells unneccesarily in fear of offending someone. Our Savior would not have you emotionally trapped in such a way. Speak. Speak freely. Speak kindly. Speak clearly. There are occasions in which it is better to keep quiet than to stir a hornets nest. Accept for those rare occasions, grab hold of your courage of the love you have for yourself and YOUR feelings and speak. If speaking your truest feelings is hard, or is something that you are not sure how to do then you must learn. I say must because it is essential that you speak your heart. You see when you hold back in life, you hold back in prayer. You hold back from the Lord. You hold back really in all aspects of your life.

Politically correct is NOT correct. YOUR feelings are correct. And there is a healthy way to communicate them. Yeah someone could get hurt or offended but that is their ball of goo to deal with. And vice versa. If you are or have been offended by something someone said then communicate that. We can not be so afraid of anger or sadness or even contention that we neglect our hearts. We will always disagree. Disagreement is a part of life. The learning part is not about never disagreeing, is about learning how to disagree, and how to communicate our feelings.

We have incorrectly defined perfection. We have given it a mortal description, mortal qualities. We have defined it as a pristine house that could come from a Pottery Barn catalog. We imagine that us as perfect is thin yet muscular with a always fresh from the salon hair-do. We speak in this tone, almost song like, always politically correct. We have put perfection in a box. We as mortals have attempted to define perfection which only exists in the eternities, and then we hold ourselves and everyone we come in contact with to that definition of perfection.

It is unfair.

First it is unfair to ourselves. Second to our "neighbors". And last, but most importantly it is unfair to our Savior. By predetermining in our minds what perfection is, we blindly move forward in our pursuit. We in essence have told our Savior what we need to become.

The scriptures contain the qualities necessary to become more like our Savior. We are counseled to be patient, kind, unselfish, and service oriented, and we think ourselves to be accomplishing it. But are we really? These qualities are personal and universal. We all need to be patient. But what is patient for one is not patient for another.

The cashier that huffed at you when your child kept knocking things off the stand. You thought her to be impatient, and quite possibly rude. What if that was being patient for her? What if her normal response is much more explosive and volatile? What if she felt good about her response because she finally was able to control her temper?

Think about times when you have been considered selfish or unkind, and in those moments you felt yourself to have handle things quite well, or to have been giving more than you normally could.

We have gone so far even to have burden mother's with societies definition of perfection. We have decided to be a perfect mother that a house need to look a certain way. We have determined the signs of a perfect mother are outwardly. If she is a perfect mother then we can see it. We judge the woman who loses control. We scorn the woman that doesn't speak to her children in that sing song tone. We assume that the mother with the cluttered house is neglecting her children, and either has too many or is overwhelmed by the ones she has. The irony is that we hold ourselves to these same silly standards. Not wanting any surprise visitors for fear of those same judgements if our house has been neglected or our children are not dressed for the runway at 10:30 in the morning.

Who cares? first of all. Who cares if someone learns the secret of your imperfections? Are you that fearful of your own reality? Are you really going to allow this imaginary definition of perfection to hold you hostage to your life?

Perfection is trying. Perfection is failure. Perfection is eternal. Perfection is us. Every day you wake up you are perfect. I know it seems a bit odd for me to define it after saying that we can't, but my point is that we are perfection because we are eternal beings. We aren't blocks of wood with sharp defined edges and hard surfaces. We are beautiful beings with deep emotions and endless possibilities.

What is your perfection? What can you perfect while here? We know I will not be a perfect house keeper. But maybe I can be perfect at hugging a person in need. My perfection lies in me breaking a chain of abuse and lies and dysfunction. I ended something for my posterity. My perfection lies in my reliance on my Heavenly Father. He shows me what my perfect is . He defines patience for me. He shows me what my service for others looks like. How I serve and how you serve will be different because we are different.

Stop putting each other in boxes. Stop putting Christ's qualities in a box. You define your Christ like qualities through him. It is personal not social. Read the conference talks. Read your scriptures. Then go to Him and ask Him how you can be those things. What the general authorities do and what you do will not be the same. Again, because you are not the same.

Set yourself up for success. Don't allow your mind to follow the assumed definition of any spiritual quality. Go to the Lord and ask him his definition for you. He longs for you to succeed and to feel successful. He knows your capabilities and your short comings, and he can use both to help you move forward in becoming more like him.

He sent us here to learn and to grow, but we can enjoy the journey. The pursuit of perfection wasn't meant to be burdensome. By finding joy in our imperfections we can actually make greater progress towards our individual perfectness.

The love of my life is home. Words can't describe the peace I feel when he is here. He just makes everything better. I was actually dropping Alora off at dance when he got home. We had been texting love notes since he landed. When I got back home I had a clean kitchen. Yes in just that short of time he can transform a kitchen. Give him a few more minutes and he can transform a whole house, which is actually what he is doing while I am typing this morning :) He loves me!!!

I am not feeling so discouraged with him home. It was hard to have him gone. I just didn't have the mental energy to keep up with all twenty kids. Okay that doesn't sound right. They were fed, bathed, hugged, loved. It was the constant organizational things. The follow through, I couldn't follow through making sure things got put away or cleaned up. So there are toys to be organized and beds to be made, laundry to be folded. We did manage to vacuum and mop the kitchen floor. I did that mostly to keep the health department away :)

I cried a huge relief cry after he called to say he was on the plane getting ready for take off. I wept really. I almost felt guilty for needing him so much. Then I realized he is my gift from Heavenly Father. He takes care of me. Not in an obligatory emotionless way like my mother did. He takes care of me, spoils me, because he loves me and I can feel it. He doesn't chastise me for not being better, for not being perfect. He knows house keeping doesn't come naturally to me, and most definitely does not come at all when I am pregnant, and yet he still loves me. I kinda wonder if he doesn't actually love that about me; that I can take on the world, but I can't keep a clean house :) (He just rescued me from a spider...on the wall across the room...a rescue non-the-less).

I am still sick (pregnancy), and really tired. I still feel like my brain cells are being snatched, used and returned empty and useless. But I feel hopeful today. I feel blessed. By this evening my house will be organized, cleaned and refreshed. We will later this week begin packing for our trek out east to Tennessee for his sister's upcoming nuptials. Life is good and it is always getting better.

I am losing my mind with this pregnancy. Really. I am not just saying that. This pregnancy is different. I have never felt the way I do. Sometimes I feel like I am dieing. I can see how that might sound crazy, but it is the truth. I feel like the life is being sucked out of me. Usually when I am pregnant I LOVE television or movies. As a family it is all we usually do for the first three months or so. Not so much right now, quite the opposite really. I turn it off, that and music. WHAT!! Yes I turn music off. Okay something is definitely wrong. Music is my life. From dawn until dusk I have music on. Primary music, classical, hip-hop, Celine Dion, my mixes....something. I have something on. I am too tired though. Mentally, physically... I am too tired to listen to music. I cry too. I cry a bazillion times a day because of how I feel. I never cry pregnant, unless it is a cotton commercial or watching the stories of the people who run the Iron Man. I have this overwhelming feeling of wanting to "throw in the towel". I want to throw my hands up and say okay I am done. Ray seems to think that it is because he is gone. I have never been with out him in the beginning of a pregnancy. The end yes. Delivery yes. Beginning no. We are both hoping that once he is home and can assume all my responsibilities :) that I will feel better. I am looking forward to a blessing as well. Those always help clear my mind and give me perspective.

It was short lived relief. I should have known. It was wonderful though. Heavenly almost. I was able to keep food down for a full 24 hours. And then it was like a switch went, and my body didn't care about the consistent electrical pulses being sent to my brain. I lost it, literally, there wasn't much to lose but it was evidence enough that the band was no longer working. Oh well, there is always Zofran and Phenergan. My only vice really with those is how sleepy I get when taking them. Dead to the world sleepy. My kids did okay today though while I lay pasted out on the couch. They played on the floor beside me. My older ones said they knew I needed to sleep so they played with the little ones so I could rest. Good kids. Amazing really. Aspen loads the dish washer, Alora vacuums. Even baby Ray gets in on the action and "teaches" Alexa where to put her things. My house is still very much in disarray, but the husband comes home Monday night and he has promised to restore things to a more comfortable way.

Is it sad that I won't miss this part of my life? I have enjoyed being pregnant, giving birth, and being a mother of a wee one. But I won't miss this. I won't miss diapers. Will I? I will miss the smells, sounds and excitement of watching a little person grow. I won't miss being sick. I've had a good run. :) I never imagined feeling this way. Never wanting to be pregnant again. I have heard people say it and have wondered if I would ever feel that. Well here we are. Six pregnancies. I am okay with being done now. If the Lord tells me to have more then I will, but I don't want to do this sick thing any more. I am sure he understands. I know he does. The thing is really I feel done. I feel like everyone will be here. I think that is why I can't imagine doing it again. I feel like I am crossing another one of my life's finish lines. And I feel good about my "run".

PrimaBella!! Oh how I love thee!!! This sums it up!

I am missing my husband right now. LOTS! He is on what is called Annual Training(AT). It is his two weeks a year that must be done for Army Reserves. He is my best friend. I miss having him here to just sit by me. He isn't a talker, I fill that job :) But he is great at listening, kinda :) Really he just lets me be me and doesn't interfere. He makes everything better. When I have a rough day and the dishes don't get done, or the floor needs vacuuming, he just does it with out me even saying a word. My dishes need to be done, my floor needs a lot more than vacuuming and my laundry is winning the territory war on my bed. AND when I am pregnant and sick, he makes me breakfast and brings it to me in bed (because it helps to eat before I actually get up). He makes dinner, and puts the kids to bed and gets things ready for the next day. Really I am spoiled. I don't mind though :) I miss his hugs. I miss his smell. I miss him.

I forget every time just how tired I get with pregnancy. I forget that I spend so much time staring at walls not thinking. It is by some miracle that my children get fed. Thank you General Mills for making such a variety of cereals :) Most of the time I lay on the floor and Arwyn just crawls on me. She doesn't know I am sick and tired, she just likes having me on the floor as her personal jungle gym. The older girls are doing amazing. Today is Alexa's birthday. So they got up this morning and put up streamers and balloons and made a marshmallow cake for her, including sprinkles and a number 3 candle. We had birthday party for her last weekend before Ray left with a fancy cake and the family, so I thought the marshmallow cake was perfect. My house needs some desperate attention, of which I can't give it right now. I have to remind myself that in a couple of months I will be me again, for now I must embrace the crumbs, pieces of papers from who knows where, and parts of toys :) EVERY WHERE!! But if you want to come over and help I will not stop you ;)

Suicidal ideation. Basically it means your brain entertains the thought of suicide. I was remembering this morning a time when I struggled with that. Years actually. One particular moment I was recalling happened while I was staying with Ray's parents in Tennessee. Looking back I know I was on too many medications. Abilify, Wellbutrin, and I believe two others, one to help me sleep and another to help with anxiety. I don't readily recall the names. I am also very sensitive to medications so the dosage that I was at was way too high.

I remember laying in the bedroom of my sister in laws. I could see the plan perfectly in my head. I knew how I was going to die, how I could take my own life. I lay there paralyzed. I didn't want to get up because I was afraid that if I moved I would begin to take action. I was scared of myself. I laid there and cried and cried, I was aching for someone to help me. I wanted someone to reprogram my brain, to make the craziness go away. Ray's mom did finally come to check on me and all I could muster to say was "I need a blessing".

Sometimes I was asked if I thought I asked for "too many" blessings. Really??? Can there be too many? The Lord was my only ally, my only relief and my only hope. It was during those blessings that I could "see" an end to it all. I knew that if I hung on to him that I would survive my mental hell. I was told the same thing often in my blessings; to read my scriptures, to pray, to love my children, to serve and to have faith. So that is just what I did everyday. My service was too my children. Most of the time my brain was too scrambled to really be able to focus on reading, so I would stare at them and pray, or look for words that gave me hope.

Prayer. Oh I love prayer. I talked to Heavenly Father ALL day. I had too, or I knew I would die. Suicide was a predominate thought. I didn't want too, but my brain wanted too. It was overloaded with medication and too much that happened in one lifetime. It couldn't handle it all. I couldn't handle it. So I prayed.

I didn't know that I would eventually have a healing from the bi-polar disorder. The Lord had told me I would have another miracle, one that would evidence to my family of His hand. I thought that it would mean that I just would one day be able to function despite the darkness. So I hung on to that hope.

I did have suicide attempts, cries for help or attempts to run from the craziness that was my mind. I overdosed. I cut. I remember thinking with every time how I just wanted to sleep, I wanted relief. Some judged me, thinking that I was trying to get attention not understanding where my mind wasn't. Others required more from me emotionally, reminding me of the selfishness of the acts. That was more motivating, because I wasn't trying to hurt anyone, I just wanted relief. Their disappointment motivated me. Judgments hindered me.

Many thought I just needed to "buck up", get outside and do something. It wasn't that simple. If you have never truly been depressed then you will never understand the power of the brain in that capacity. I wanted to get up, I wanted to not feel dark and hellish, but it wasn't me that was causing the feelings. It was environmental, situational and physical. It was a result of the things I had been through. I did try everyday, but my tries were not what the world would define as "try". My "try" was to look my children in the eyes and tell them I loved them and that they have a Heavenly Father who loved them. I wrote my testimony in my journal. I prayed.I asked for LOTS of blessings. I clung to my Savior. None of it was tangible, but it was real. My tries got me where I am today. I am grateful to my Savior who stood by me literally during my darkest hour. I believe really he carried me through so much of it. My plea to anyone and everyone is too not let the world tell you how to endure ANYTHING, ask the Lord how to do it. His way is more healing and more permanent. The Lord blessed me with inspired doctors and friends. Pray for discernment to know which of what is said to you is from him, and which is opinion. His way will never makes sense to the world, and you will find much opposition in following him, but you will also find permanent peace and healing. Pray for your friends and family who are suffering from depression or any mental illnesses. Pray to able to love them and to see them through the Lord's eyes. You could be an instrument in their healing.

I am tired. Really, really exhausted. It is however for a good cause. I am pregnant yet again :) It was on purpose, I wanted another baby. With this pregnancy I have found though that I have less brain than other times. Here's an example:

Ray drove down to Orem for work yesterday. I had called to ask him his ETA. We talked for a minute or two then hung up. About 30 minutes later I called him to see where he was at and if he would be able to pick up Alora from dance. I had to quickly hang up because there was a disturbance among the children. As I am driving Alora to dance some 20 minutes later I am thinking to myself, multiple times mind you, "Why hasn't Ray called me to let me know if he has left work?". Thank goodness for angels because one whispered to me that I had actually called him already. I KNOW it was an angel because my mind is too gone to have remembered on its own. I believe it was done in an effort to spare my husband any pregnancy wrath that could have unduly come his way for "not calling me back".

I love the journey of pregnancy. I love that at least for me my pregnancies are very similar and yet very different. I love the excitement surrounded by bringing another spirit into our family. Will it be a boy or a girl? What will their personality be like?

I love having a big family. I love the idea of having more bodies in my home. Yes more!!! I love it!! I really do love the chaos. I love the messes. I love how we have to work together everyday to make it the best. I love that my home is cluttered with evidences of my children. It isn't perfectly dusted, decorated or organized. But it is filled with love and kids. One day my house will be perfectly kept. Everything in its place, and a place for everything. But my children will be gone living their own lives with their own families. So I shall enjoy the messes, the crumbs and the colored walls while I still have them in my home.

I feel good. Oh I feel so good. I feel peaceful. I feel happy. The Lord has blessed me with so much.

A couple of months ago I had my "final" healing blessing. Ray was the one who administered. It was beautiful. During the blessing over and over I heard in my mind the words "it is done, it is finished". I felt like I had crossed a finish line. At the completion of the blessing I felt exhausted, and yet freed of something intangible. That healing was a spiritual healing, meaning it literally healed my spirit. My first healing in 2003, removed the scars, the nightmares and ugliness associated with my abuses. I had another healing in 2007 in which the Lord healed me from bi-polar disorder, which I believe was a result of the drastic emotional inconsistencies, manipulations and the sexual and physical abuses I endured. This healing, my most recent, healed the parts of my spirit that had been damaged by a mother who failed me as an infant, child and adult.

I feel the healing. I feel freed from years of feeling like I was in an endurance race. A race against myself. I did not want to repeat any of my childhood with my children. And the only way to do that was to face myself. To not repeat something you have to figure out what part of you is on repeat. You have to face the parts of you that are exactly what you promised yourself you would never be. Changing the past is not easy. I am glad that it wasn't. I don't think I would appreciate where I came from, if it was easy to get where I am.

I get to live now. I don't know that many can really understand what that means. I get to be me, and enjoy the fruits of my labors, and life.

I am not perfect now that I had all my healings. I am, however, no longer dysfunctional . I avoid things. I procrastinate. But I don't hit my children. I don't tell them I hate them, or how worthless they are.

It isn't about being perfect anyway. I think weaknesses can blessings. Another opportunity. With weakness we are reminded of our humanness, of our dependence on God. I am grateful for my weaknesses because they give me something to work on. I think people spend to much time stressing about what the don't do right, or avoiding or trying to hide their imperfections. My weaknesses combined with my strengths make me who I am. And I wouldn't trade me for anything.

So what happens if I never figure out how to stay on top of the laundry? I just never figure out how to stay on top of the laundry. Will my children some how miss something in life with out perfect folded and put away clothes? Will they some how resent me for having to dig through the baskets of laundry or the dryer to find their clothes? I doubt it. I don't think they notice really because I don't beat myself up about it.

One of my favorite questions I ask myself, and my children is "What happens if _____ doesn't happen?" I believe the question was inspired by my fav doctor in Boston when I was dealing with OCD. It is a powerful question. What happens if your dishes don't get done, right now? What happens if you are never able to be an early riser? What happens if there is evidence of children in your home while they are awake? There are somethings that have a legitimate answer. But I believe so much of the negative self talk that haunts women could be alleviated but this simple question.

We can't, and we won't be perfect. Embrace it. Run with it and make the most of it. Find the joy of being human and imperfect.