Feature Friday: Joan

Joan and I have known each other since elementary school and played with each other in those years. Later, during high school, we worked at Cherry Hill together. She has always been a fun person to be around. When I came home from my mission I remember she sent me a message saying she was there if I needed to talk because she had come home early too. Back then I wasn't really ready to talk about it, but I was so grateful she was thinking of me and cared enough to let me know.
One thing I love about Joan's story is that she knew herself well enough to demand what was necessary to feel better. I don't think enough of us do that. It's ok to put yourself first sometimes and do what you need to take care of yourself!
Joan was born and raised in Kaysville, UT attended BYU Idaho where she got her degree in Public Relations. She uses her degree to fulfill the best and worst career she could possibly think of, motherhood. She is married to Tyler Brough and has two little spit fire girls. Life seems to be going by so fast Joan tries very hard to never blink as not to miss a thing. Keep on reading for her story.

From a young age I knew I never wanted to serve a mission. I was the one in Young Women’s who never raised their hand when asked who wanted to go on a mission. I knew what I wanted, and it was to get married. In college, I still held firm to the idea of never wanting to serve a mission. It’s not that I didn’t believe in the Gospel, or love God I just didn’t want to leave my family for 18 months.

After many failed attempts at serious dating, and two years into my degree, in the month of November 2011 I got an overwhelming feeling that I needed to go on a mission and all I could think was “oh no, no, no, no….I don’t want to.” I battled with God, but as usual God knows better than I do, in all things. I started my papers that weekend, and had them submitted by Christmas of that year.

In January 2012 I received my call, with family gathered around I opened my call and was devastated that I was called to Minneapolis, Minnesota. I pulled up my big girl pants and I packed my bags for the Provo, MTC the end of March 2012. From the very beginning I felt off, I remember I would write a family email and then write a “mom” email where I would tell my mom things didn’t feel right, but I pushed on.

I entered the mission field, and in my entrance interview with my mission president the only words I seemed to remember “I hope you brought good running shoes because you’ll be hitting the ground running in this area. It’s our busiest area in the mission.” That first transfer I killed off my trainer (she completed her mission and went home after six weeks) so I wasn’t fully trained and right after her, I got a companion who was, in my mission presidents words “a hard sister who needs love.” It was not what I was expecting.

I became so over worked and stressed my body started shutting down. I was becoming depressed and I wanted to go home. After several meetings with my mission president I would leave his office feeling more overwhelmed as his response was essentially “no you can’t go home, you need to batten down the hatch and forget yourself.” I tried that, but anyone who has experienced depression will know that it can make you numb to almost everything. During very spiritual lessons I would feel nothing. The desire to be out and see people whom I absolutely loved was gone. After months of going back and forth and my depression becoming worse I knew that the next transfer I was going to tell President C. I was going home. The Sunday before transfers I got a call from President C., who called me to be a trainer. I was heartbroken and felt completely trapped.

Being called as trainer could not have been more of a God send. All my companions before my trainee had some form of anxiety or depression. My trainee was ready to work and so happy to be out in the field. I finally felt that this was God saying, “I have found someone who can handle this area and the people you so dearly love and have worked for these past few months.”

Two weeks into the transfer I broke mission rules and called my Dad. I needed to talk to a man who was by no means emotional, and very calming in these situations. I was struggling with the idea of coming home early. I was so embarrassed and afraid of what people would think. I felt that if I came home early God would surely punish me and not bless me with a husband. (Irrational fears.) I called my dad and poured my heart out to him, his response was directly from my Father in Heaven. He said “Joan, I could never be disappointed in you, so no matter what you choose I will always love you…..” after a small pause he said “and Joan, God will always love you too, and He will always be there to bless you.”

That day I called the President and I said, “You’re sending me home on the next flight.” I went home that next Wednesday. My exit interview with my mission president made me feel small and like I was breaking covenants and that God was not pleased with my efforts. Thankfully when I was released from my mission, my Stake President told me “Sister Johnson, when people ask you if you’ve served you tell them you served a full mission. Time does not matter, all that matters is you went and served.”

The next Sunday I got asked all the stupid questions, “Why are you home early?”…. “Wait a minute, you’re not supposed to be home, are you?” I felt the only way to respond was to be honest. So my response was always “Yes, I’m home, I have been diagnosed with stress induced depression.” I even announced it over the pulpit, because even though it’s no one’s business, I felt people are too curious for their own good and this would maybe help them be a little more kind/cautious when asking questions to others who come home early.

Fast forward five years and who knew that coming home after only five months in the mission field I would meet my eternal companion in the sealing room of the wedding of my two high school friends. Only God knows what’s going to happen, and if I put all my trust in him, everything will work out. Even when the path flips, and curves in very uncomfortable ways the Gospel is always straight, God is always constant. We must always trust he knows better than us.

When Righteous Desires Don't Go As Planned: Ally

I have recently talked to some people who are very near and dear to me about righteous desires not always being granted, being put on hold, or not going as planned; be it infertility, divorce, coming home early from a mission, being single, and those who live with/are married to someone who suffers from a mental illness. So I decided that I would expand this blog a little bit to include those things and share from those who have gone through such moments in their lives.

"In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can't see." - Hymn 220 

I apologize if you are sick of hearing from me about my experience, but I wanted to go first and share my two cents on the topic. Because even though we all have gone through different experiences, we can relate to one another by not getting what we want(ed).

The Texas McAllen Mission was bilingual so I got to teach in both English and Spanish.

I had a desire to serve a mission since I was in primary. I used my Mom's mission scriptures and I thought it was the coolest thing ever to see her notes and know that she had the set I was now using as a missionary. I decided way back then that it was something I wanted to do. Before I received my Patriarchal Blessing I was told that if there was something that I desired to know or hear during this blessing that I could ask for it, remembering to keep in mind the will of God. Immediately serving a mission came to mind. I prayed that Heavenly Father would let me know about this desire in my blessing, and He did. I was told that I would serve a mission... "when the time is right." I was 17 at the time and so I was a little confused about what that could mean. Did it mean that I'd have to wait 'til I was older and go with my husband? Or did it mean something that I couldn't comprehend yet? Well FINALLY, about 6 months before I turned 21 I started working on my papers and submitted them 4 months before my birthday.

I received my mission call on July 6, 2011 and was called to serve in the Texas McAllen Mission preaching in the Spanish language. I reported to the MTC on November 16. I can now see that I started developing some early signs and symptoms of anxiety and depression in the MTC but they didn't fully rear their ugly heads until my second and third transfers.

(I'm going to skip over the details of what happened after I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression, since I've already written about them, and focus more on how I was feeling as I went through the remainder of my mission and coming home.)

After I was diagnosed I was not a very good missionary. I couldn't sleep very well at night anymore so when 6:30 AM rolled around I wouldn't always get out of bed. I would have to stay in the apartment sometimes for part of the day or the whole day because I felt so sick and so exhausted and I had no motivation or care to do anything. Little things like this made me feel even worse. What was I doing here? I had this righteous desire for more than half my life and here I was struggling with it, failing at it, having moments of not even caring about it.

That's when I started thinking about going home. Cause honestly, what was the point anymore?! So eventually it was decided that's what was going to be best for me. Home. I felt a relief at first but that didn't last very long. Because once I was back home I was constantly reminded of my failure - from other return missionaries, from people asking about why I came home, from this new illness I was still trying to understand and resolve.

I became bitter and resentful. Why was this happening to me? Why did Heavenly Father instill in me such a strong aspiration, this life goal, to serve a mission and then take it away? I know that's not really what happened, but that's how it felt. And it hurt. It hurt bad. I stopped reading my scriptures, and the only "prayers" I said were angry ones. I didn't want to get out of bed in the morning. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to be around people. I hated life. I hated my body and all the crap it was going through. I was in a horrible place and I had no idea how I was going to get out. But somehow I did.

It took a lot of time (we're talking years) and prayer and reflection and learning and therapy and love to turn my wound into a scar. Looking back at your trials is usually easier than going through them because in the midst of them it's the worst thing ever and it's hard to always remember that eternal perspective. I can now understand a little bit of the why and I never would have created this blog if it wasn't for the burden of mental illness, and this blog has been a huge blessing to me so I'm grateful for what has come from what I went through. I am grateful for the new perspective I have gained and a better understanding of mental illnesses. I am grateful for those who have shared and will share their stories, you have changed my life and the lives of others.

Heavenly Father loves me, even though His plan for my mission wasn't different than my own. He loves His children, even when He doesn't grant the desires of their hearts. One day all the questions will be answered and everything that was unfair about this life will be made right. Until then, I try to have faith and remember that He, my Savior and Redeemer, knows exactly how I feel. And that, is all that matters in the end.

Love, Ally
XOXO

P.S. I am really excited to be able to relate to more people who need it and hopefully bless more lives. In the past week I met some amazing people who are willing to share so please feel free to follow my blog and keep an eye out for those future experiences!

Feature Friday: Alexa

I connected with Alexa about a month ago via Instagram, but I wanted to wait to share her story 'til after I met her at this dinner she hosted last night. I'm glad I did so that I could tell you guys what a power she has! She brought together some amazing women and reminded us all that we can do whatever we have our hearts set on. She has a website and Instagram account where she has "A podcast interviewing women who are making a difference in their community. Whether that's by being a rockin' Mom, starting a business, or just being an all around rad lady." She has already done amazing things and I can't wait to see what else she'll do. 

If you haven't had the chance to hear about Munchin' With Moguls this is a brief little back story! Alexa worked in the startup world for the last 4 years and fell in love with the amazing women she met through her business networking. So many rad women doing killer things - she just had to share. So finally, she realized a podcast was the way to do that! She loves people's stories and has always wanted to be a story teller so it felt like the perfect fit. In May of 2017, the podcast launched. A podcast interviewing rad women who are influencing the community around them. Just a few months after launching, she had over 70,000 downloads!?! Say what?! She never could have dreamed that this was possible but yet it makes her realize how right this journey is. You could say it's "meant to be." She wanted to create a community for women, a place for women to feel empowered. To talk about genuine things that matter. To talk about business. To talk about motherhood. Whatever it is, she loves talking about it! She is still in the beginning stages of this journey but is so stoked for the future and feels so grateful for the success and support thus far. This being said, life isn't all sunshine and daisies. She also wanted to start this because her life isn't perfect. She's suffered from anxiety for years and she felt it was finally time to share. She hopes her story can help others just like others stories have helped her. She loves uniting with all you girl bosses! The following is from her blog.

#magicofvulnerability with Alexa

Hey there! I figured it was about time I take a second to introduce myself, told you a little bit of my story, and told you why I started this podcast. Let me just to a second to say this right at the beginning - I AM NOT A WRITER! Some how I work in social media and end up writing blog posts for brands but I do not in any way claim to be good at this whole writing thing. What is grammar? There, they're, their... someone please teach me the rules? So just embrace all my flaws.

Now that I brought up flaws - this is where it gets good! I realized today that it seems pretty unfair that I ask people to come on my podcast and tell me all about their lives while I sit here and ask the questions. If everyone is going to be vulnerable with me, whether that's via interviews, conversations, or social media, I want to be vulnerable with you as well. So here we go. Let's get real shall we?

I'll start out with a quick snip about me just to get things rolling. Grew up in the sweetest town in Utah - Ogden! If you haven't been, make the trip. I love this quaint town and the people here but that SO doesn't mean I haven't had my time away. I've spent time living in places like the Upper West Side of Manhattan, the farms of Denmark, and orphanages in Ecuador. I love seeing the world and all the culture it has to offer. My job really allows me to do that! I wish I had a perfect title for what my job entrails but it changes everyday. When people ask, I say I am a Free-lance Social Media Marketing Consultant for Start-Up Companies. I work with brands in all different aspects whether that's planning events, influencer outreach, or just answering emails till my eyes burn out and my hands fall off. I love my job and wouldn't trade it for anything. I feel so blessed to have found what I love at such a young age. Work basically follows me 24/7 (by choice), but when I am not at the computer you can usually find me exploring the world with friends, eating something constantly, or buying platform sandals I probably can't afford. Whoops.

So that's me. The surface part of me that the people around me usually see. I'm hoping by this many paragraphs down, you have stopped reading. If not, congrats to the 4 of you and can't wait to share my thoughts ;) . I'm going to get vulnerable. @weslie_ started this amazing #magicofvulnerability hash tag and I couldn't help but jump on the band wagon. There is a lot about me that even my closest friends don't know. That isn't because I don't trust them or I am too afraid to talk about it, I have just never felt like they would get it. Or maybe felt like I couldn't explain it right? But let's hope I can put it into words here.

I suffer from anxiety. What is anxiety?

Anxiety is a constant state of worrying and panicking and being on the edge. It’s irrational fears.

Anxiety is wanting to fix something that isn’t even a problem.

Anxiety is the fear of failure and striving for perfection. Then beating yourself up when you fall short.

Anxiety is caring. Caring too much about the people you love, the things you invest your time in, and the outcomes of your investments.

Anxiety is a lot of things I can't even explain.

I suffer from anxiety. I think we all do in different ways and I think that is normal. But there have been points in my life where it has been absolutely crippling. In high school, I missed roughly 90 days a year from school because I would get migraines. Migraines that lasted for days, weeks. My parents took me to every doctor under the sun and we couldn't figure out why it was happening. Now I know it was my anxiety but I had no idea then that something so emotional could cause something so physical. My anxiety brought me migraines which would literally make me lose my vision, throw up, and be stuck in a bed for days at a time. Then I got to college and it died down a little but still hung over my head. I think that's when I realized the migraines were all about anxiety. School brought me so much stress that I would find myself in the middle of the day hanging my head over our creepy college apartment toilet holding myself back from throwing up. Turns out college wasn't my thing and I dropped out after about a year and a half of school to pursue other dreams.

Removing things that bring me stress has eliminated a lot of my anxiety. I have a job with a roughly low level of stress, I live a care free life. I just kind of figured that since I had eliminated the items that brought me stress, I was fine. Obviously I would still get stressed like anyone does but nothing like my literally being ill and not being able to live my life. I went months without any anxiety and it felt SO FREEING. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I could finally live my life. Like REALLY live. And then - it came back.

Over Christmas of this last year, I had the opportunity to meet my parents in Peru to backpack Machu Picchu. My parents were living in Ecuador at the time so I was flying alone. All the sudden on the plane leaving Utah, I felt anxiety. It all came flooding back and I panicked. Should I just fly back home? It honestly crossed my mind multiple times. But I realized that was ridiculous and just pushed through. Made it to Peru, met up with my parents, and headed to our hotel. I got in late so we went straight to getting ready for bed. I literally didn't even make it to brushing my teeth before I started sobbing. I didn't want my sweet parents to see so I hurry and jumped in the shower to cover up the tears. I finally got out and climbed in bed. I tried to contain the sobs but finally my mom heard me and hopped into my bed. I think I probably cried until about 6am. I honestly have no idea why my anxiety attacks happen. She kept asking why I was upset, what we could do, what was happening. I had no idea. I still don't. Every time it happens, I have no answers. That's the most frustrating part. I can't do anything because I don't have answers. I won't tell you about the whole trip and all the details. I was supposed to stay roughly a month and ended up staying about two weeks. My amazing parents bought a very last minute / very expensive plane ticket back to Utah for me. They didn't have to but they knew it was what I needed.

Guys this story has no resolution. This still happens to me all the time. I will go out with people and have to have them take me home because I lose it. I go out on vacations with friends and stay alone in the hotel on certain days. At this point I don't really mind it. I've found ways to cope with my anxiety. I've realized it is here to stay, at least for now, and that's ok. I kind of like that my story has no resolution because that makes it more real in my eyes. I wish I could say it is over and I have solved it but I SO haven't and that's ok. I've found ways to still live a VERY happy life with anxiety. If I need to take a day to lock myself in my room and be alone, that's ok.

Honestly this has been A LOT of blabbering on my part. Lots of explaining that I am sure made zero sense. Here is a quick summary - I have anxiety - It sucks - I've found ways to deal with it because it is my burden to carry in this life and that is ok. I am almost grateful for it (love hate relationship yuh know?). Would I give it away if I could? HELL YES. Do I embrace it now? You bet I do.

Feature Friday: Shantel

Shantel and I went to high school together and had some mutual friends. She commented on one of the stories I shared via Facebook and asked if she could share hers. I am so grateful she was brave enough to ask me and willing to share. I can relate to several things she went through and I know there are others who can as well. Keep reading for her story.

I used to think that people that were depressed were always sad, they kept to themselves, they were antisocial, they slept a lot, etc. I didn’t understand the disorder and didn’t consider myself to be a depressed person. I tried to be a happy person or so I thought. In my first year of teaching, I taught a girl who came to school regularly, was an excellent student, seemed like such a happy, bubbly, sweet girl. She was hardworking and got good grades. She was just a great girl. One of those students that all the other students like, and I loved teaching. One day we as faculty were informed that this girl had attempted suicide and would not be returning to school for a while because she was getting treatment. Many of us were shocked. I was especially. How could this girl, the girl that sat in my class day after day, the girl who was so happy, bubbly and sweet, struggle with depression so bad that she had attempted suicide and I had no idea that she was even sad, let alone depressed. I tried to justify that it was because I was on maternity leave for so long that I didn’t really know her that well. I just couldn’t believe that I had not noticed she had an issue. At this time, I didn’t connect that people with depression don’t have to be sad, sleep a lot and be antisocial but this happened around the time that I first began to realize I had an issue of my own.

In high school, I never had a super high self-esteem. I have never thought I was super pretty, or very good at much. However, I would have never considered myself to be depressed, but now that I really know what depression is and what it feels like I would say that I have struggled with depression for a lot of my life, beginning as early as junior high. I specifically remember feeling the way I do often now in my Junior year of high school. I had stress fractured my leg and was on crutches or in a boot most of the year. I was not exercising as much as I normally did. I couldn’t run with all my cross-country/track friends. Also, that year my two really good friends, that I spent pretty much every lunch and weekend with and worked with, started fighting and going their separate ways and I was stuck in the middle not sure what to do because I didn’t want either of them to think I liked one more than the other or that I was picking sides, so not only did I feel like I wasn’t part of my group of running buddies because my leg but I also felt like I lost my friends that I spent all my time with. Luckily, I had one really good friend that I hadn’t done anything with in a while that I started to spend time with, otherwise I would have felt like I had no one. When I talk about that year I always say it was the worst year of high school. However, nothing super bad really happened, any different than my sophomore or senior year, but now that I know what depression is, I now realize that I was depressed to the point that I thought the world would be better off without me.

That summer my parents told me they wanted to move to Logan, Utah. They said they would wait until my senior year was over if that was what I wanted to do. I immediately said I didn’t care as long as I went to a school with a good cross-country program. When I tell people that I chose to move my senior year they are shocked, but for me all I could think about was getting a new start, with new friends. It actually turned out to be the best year of high school for me. I met friends there that I am still friends with today and were even my roommates in college. I stayed friends with a few friends from Davis high but for the most part I didn’t feel like I missed much. After that I don’t remember struggling very much. I remember being sad off and on throughout the rest of high school and throughout college but nothing major stands out.

It wasn’t until I was married and had a new born baby that things got a lot worse. I was in the middle of my first-year teaching. Anyone that is a teacher knows that the first year is the worst. Almost everyone feels like they aren’t meant to be a teacher at the end of their first year so they always tell you if you make it through your first year you should make sure to try a second year before deciding if you were meant to be a teacher or not. My first year was not just hard because it was my first year but I also had a baby a month before my first anniversary, and 2 months into the school year and was on maternity leave for 6 weeks (not long enough) with a substitute that had no classroom discipline so when I returned trying to control my students was a nightmare. I came home every day saying how much I hated my job, how I didn’t want to go back the next day, even though I loved teaching and loved the students I worked with, I could only see how bad I was at it. I felt like I was a terrible teacher, that all my students hated me, and that I wasn’t really making a difference in any of their lives like I wanted to be.

At my 6 weeks after birth appointment with my OB, I filled out a paper with questions trying to diagnosis post-partum depression. Yeah, that questionnaire is terrible. It just helped me convince myself that I wasn’t depressed. This made me feel like I was just a terrible person because I acted poorly and wasn’t good at anything, rather than there being a reason for all these feelings of hatred and self-loathing.

When I returned to work after maternity leave, I was still trying to breast feed Hadley and pump but I could never find the time to pump and so I got several batches of infection. I felt like I was only working because I had to or we wouldn’t have any money and we would be homeless not because I liked my job or was good at it. I wished every day that I could just stay home with Hadley and never go back. I just was counting down the years, the months, the days, until my husband was done with school so I didn’t have to do this anymore. Even though the school I worked at was the best school any teacher could ever work at, with the best students any teacher could ask for and the principal there is phenomenal. Seriously, the best administrator and boss. I decided to stop breast feeding because I couldn’t keep missing work and it had become a chore rather than a time to bond with my child, I started to hate it and resent my child for it and I didn’t want to feel like that. However, lots of people made me feel like I was a terrible mom because I wasn’t giving my child the BEST food she could have. I already felt like I was inadequate to be a mom, a teacher, a wife, and this just added to it. Inside I felt like I was doing everything wrong. I wasn’t sad necessarily, more I was angry all the time. I was always yelling at my students because they wouldn’t listen and I couldn’t control them after the substitute had let them get away with everything. I was always fighting and upset with my husband, or crying to him because I had been mean to him and I hated myself for acting that way. The thing that was the worst is that I would become so angry at Hadley, an innocent child who knew nothing of being bad or misbehaving. She was just this innocent Child of God who Heavenly Father had entrusted me with and all I could do was get angry when I couldn’t figure out why she was crying.

My husband, Chris, would try to bring up how he was concerned that I could become so angry with a new born child, he had struggled with depression and suggested maybe I was having issues with it. I told him he was wrong because I wasn’t sad all the time, I didn’t sleep all the time, I wasn’t losing my job, I was fine. One day however, I just broke down and cried saying that I hated myself for how I treated him and our daughter and that I thought they were better off without me. He said he thought I needed to get help, so I went to a therapist because he thought I needed to not because I wanted to.
In April of 2013, 6 moths after Hadley was born, I began to see a therapist. I saw her for about a month. I didn’t like her much. She had said a couple helpful things but not much. I felt like it was useless and so I just got her to say she thought I needed medicine so that I could go to my family doctor and get on medication. Medication helped but it didn’t solve anything and created some problems of its own. It helped me not be a mean wife and mom. It helped me be a better, happier teacher but I still hated myself and every time I wasn’t perfect I felt like my family was better off without me. That I should just leave so they didn’t have to deal with me and the terrible person I was. This ate away at my marriage and caused issues in many areas of my life, it just hid the true issue better.

The first medication I tried caused me to gain lots of weight. Which was awful because I already felt terrible about myself, and thought I wasn’t pretty enough and this just made the feelings worse. I switched to a different medication and things were a lot better but it has taken me years to lose only some of the weight I gained. Then about 2 years ago, to help my negative self-image even more, my face suddenly decided it wanted acne. I never struggled with acne as a teenager, but something happened that one day my acne was so bad and nothing I did helped. After a year and a half of trying different medications and treatments from dermatologist to every person on the planet thinking that they had to stop me to tell me they had some new acne treatment or face cream that would help, it was better but still not great. Over this time period my self-esteem, and self-image got worse and worse. I felt like I was so ugly, and fat. How could my husband love me when I was so hideous? Then I finally gave in and went on Accutane (not advertising that people should use this), even though it is so hard on your body, and after 5 months, I can now look at myself in the mirror without being disgusted and thinking I’m hideous. The point is medication didn’t solve my problem. I needed something more if I was going to get better.

A year ago, Chris and I decided that I should get tested because I was having a hard time focusing and making sure I was taking care of my daughter’s needs. I would focus so much on a task that I didn’t hear Hadley calling for me, I would stare at the wall when Chris was trying to talk to me, like no one was home. After multiple visits, I was diagnosed with ADHD. It was also brought up that I struggled with depression and anxiety. I had never really thought I struggled with anxiety but now I know different. At some point, I decided I should and I wanted to really see a therapist. I went on a search for the perfect therapist. This time seeing a therapist was different because I had the desire to get better and I knew I had a problem to solve. I have been seeing my therapist for the last year and I would suggest everyone could use a therapist. I love my therapist. He is the best, not that my first therapist wasn’t good, I just found one that worked for me and was able to communicate with me. That was one of the best decision I have made.

Working with my therapist I now know that I struggle with depression and anxiety as well as ADHD. I am on medication for all three and have tried going off them but my life is just better and I am a happier person with them. I may not need them one day but for now if it makes it so I don’t feel the feelings I felt for so many years, I will take them forever. Between medication, and regularly seeing a therapist I have begun to manage these mental disorders so they don’t define me any longer. I have come far enough that I feel like I am actually improving my self-esteem. At this point I feel like things are going really well but I often struggle with symptoms of these disorders that I will probably struggle with my whole life, but I have slowly learned how to not let them control my life.
Now I am doing something I love, I am currently teaching a class at and getting my Master’s degree from Utah State University in Mathematics and I hope to get my Ph.D. so I can one day be a professor. I love being a mom and I know that I can be the person God intended me to be.
I have learned that anyone can struggle with these things and you never know who. These disorders can affect so many different types of people. People you would never even think had issues like this. Depression is not just about being sad and anxiety is not just about having an overwhelming fear of something. When I am anxious I talk a lot. I get anxiety in many situations that I never realized. I feel like I will always be learning how to deal with these disorders but I finally feel like I am winning. That I am a good mom and wife and though I am not perfect, I have worth. Depression and anxiety are scary and many times you cannot beat it and learn to overcome it without help. Most of the time you cannot do it alone, we all need help. If you can’t ask someone, you always have a Heavenly Father waiting with concourses of angels ready to come to your aid.

Elder Holland said, “In the gospel of Jesus Christ, we have help from both sides of the veil. When disappointment and discouragement strike—and they will—we need to remember that if our eyes could be opened, we would see horses and chariots of fire as far as the eye can see, riding at great speed to come to our protection. They will always be there, these armies of heaven, in defense of Abraham’s seed.

I have learned I can do hard things and do anything with his help. That whenever I feel unloved, inadequate, or unworthy, Christ has felt it all. If I turn to the scriptures or a priesthood holder for a blessing, I will feel of his love, overwhelmingly. He will lift me and carry me through it, if I turn to him and follow him. If you need help, please find someone that can help you, you do not have to make this journey alone. There are so many that struggle with this disorder or are familiar with it, that if you can simply reach out and ask for help, help with be there.
I am so grateful for Ally and the opportunity she has given me to share a small portion of my story, my story that is not over but now feels worth living, in hopes it helps someone figure out their story and find the help they need.

Feature Friday: Anna

Anna and I went to high school together so I saw her post on Facebook from her own blog. I am so grateful for all those people who are brave enough to share their stories on their own and then let me share them on my blog too. Keep reading for Anna's story. 

Life Happens in the Pauses.

I’ve been staring at a blank screen for hours, trying to decide how to start this entry of my very private and vulnerable feelings regarding a recent experience I’ve gone through. I’ve struggled for weeks on whether this information and this part of my life needs to be shared with people. Its deeply personal to me and it’s an experience that is extremely important to me.

The last seven months have been hard, scratch that, they’ve been unbearable. It’s hard to put into words just how broken and devastated I’ve truly been. The months have been filled with huge life changes that have left me with some big questions and such a noise filled mind. Its left me with some extremely dark thoughts and sad perspectives. I know that in these last few months my faith was truly put to the test. More than it ever has been. It’s hard to think you believe in something so much but when it is truly tested, do you really? For those who know me, I don’t do well with change, especially big changes. I was put to the test through so many changes at once, that I shut down. I became disconnected from my life and from who I am.

It started with small and simple thoughts, does this matter? Do I care about this? Am I happy? Does any of it matter? I found myself taking steps backwards for weeks. I changed my mindset from my happy, optimistic self to someone who didn’t really care about anything anymore. It’s like everything had lost its meaning to me. I think the worst part about that was that I knew I was hurting more than I could handle, but I didn’t care. I let myself sink further and further away from this person I thought I always was. It’s like looking in the mirror and not even know who is on the other side. I was a stranger to myself.

I really struggled to get a grasp on my life and what I was going through. It’s like I couldn’t accept that I was in the place that I was in. That was my first mistake. Days would go by and I would feel myself drifting further and further away. I started to think; Am I important? Do I really make a difference? Would anyone notice if I was gone? Am I helping people in my life enough for it to make a real and definite difference? I began to convince myself that people would be fine without me in their life. They would find someone else who fulfilled my spot and that I didn’t matter too much anymore. I honestly was so wrapped up in my own mind and my own thoughts that I believed the lies I told myself. Looking back, I think the part that hurts me the most was that I knew I needed to tell someone, but I was so scared of judgement from anyone and someone being insensitive that instead I quietly suffered. I began to truly understand what it felt like to have no control over my emotions and my thoughts. My heart was aching to be understood and not be told what to do, or how to fix it. I just needed to know that what I was feeling wasn’t anything than that, it was what I was feeling.

There was a particular day in April where I allowed my emotions and my fear drive my mind. I ended up in a place where I was struggling to understand what the point was of going on. I hadn’t shared any of my thoughts or any of my experiences with my family, my roommates or my friends. I felt so alone and was so scared. I knew that my thoughts and my heart were experiencing two different emotions. I knew that what I was feeling was not sent from Heavenly Father and that it was the adversary. In those last few months leading up to April, I knew, but didn’t care. It was easier to not care and not to deal with my emotions. That was the smart move, I thought. The adversary sadly, works in so many ways, in ways that are so incredibly personal and fragile to who we are. If we are not careful to discern the difference of the Savior and the adversary, we become trapped. Trapped in a false reality and living within all of your vulnerabilities and insecurities.

I heavily relied on the Savior that day. I had many beautiful, inspiring and perfect moments with Him that day. I didn’t have a lightning bolt answer. I didn’t have a gust of light, or see any personages. I simply felt love in a moment that I needed more than ever. I never realized the power in our desires and His ability to truly heal and strengthen us, as His children. I sat weeping and knew that my prayers and my heart had been heard.

Words won’t ever be able to describe the love that I felt in that moment from my Heavenly Father and His son, my best friend, Jesus Christ. My heart and my soul were saved. I understood my importance and my role to play in this life. Most importantly, I knew Heavenly Father loved me, without a doubt. It is something I will never ever question again. I have never been one to doubt the Gospel or its teachings. I have believed and served faithfully in my callings. I always try to be kind to others and exemplify Christ. It was so out of character for me to feel the way I was feeling.

It seems so silly, like how could I not know that, right? I’ve always been with people that I love and felt surrounded growing up. But for some reason I didn’t feel that, not because of them, because of me. I had convinced myself that everyone would be okay without me. I am so happy that I was wrong and that my thoughts were not truly mine. It was an internal struggle. I had allowed myself to feel horrible instead of fighting back.

I will never be able to describe fully how thankful I am for this day. I am even thankful for the saddest days, where I questioned myself that much. I have gained more compassion, more empathy, more kindness and more love for those in my life than I ever thought possible. I’ll never truly know why I had to suffer for those months. Why I had to feel so alone and feel that I was not cared for or loved by those who love me more deeply than I can comprehend.

I will forever be grateful to you, Brooke. You’ll never know how much you did that day. You were everything. Thank the heavens we decided to become best friends so long ago in eighth grade. I think God knew how much I would need you then and now. What an incredible person you are in my life. I love you.

There are so many things that I did wrong through this process. The first and foremost was not reaching out to my family or my closest friends when I needed it. I kept to myself and chose not to tell anyone in fear that they would act differently, treat me like a child, or simply not even try to understand. Because they hadn’t felt that, that it couldn’t possibly be real. Or that I was feeling that way because I wanted attention. There were a million thoughts that would run through my mind, making me feel more and more closed off from ever telling anyone. I know there were moments I would try to work up the courage, and then silently return to my room. I was scared that everyone would be against me, rather than with me. Instead of trusting in the good, I believed the worst would come out of my loved ones. The power of empathy and understanding has truly helped me to believe that the people in our lives are everything and I’ll admit I took some for granted.

The second, I didn’t admit to myself that I needed help until I was already suffering. I shouldn’t have waited so long to know for myself that something was wrong and that I was off. I am thankful to have a patient and understanding counselor who guided me and helped me. By the simplest of ways of just listening and validating that it was okay for me to feel how I was feeling. She always trusted in me that I would be safe, even when I didn’t. I have since had conversations with her and she has said that she knew all along I would find this and be happy. That I had to feel my emotions and not repress them. Which if you know me, I am pretty good at being emotional, so I never thought I would do that.

I’ve never struggled with any kind of mental illnesses in my life. Not like this, I’ve always just found different ways to cope with my sadness, stress and experiences. Writing has always been a therapeutic way for me to release my emotions. I have known a lot of people in my life who have struggled and I’ve tried my best to be there for them and their struggles but never quite understood it. I am in no way saying that my seven months of depression compare to someone who has struggled all their life, but it helps me to have a greater insight and more empathy and compassion to others. For me, this was my experience. I know that not everyone has an experience that is like mine or even close to mine. I want to emphasize that this was my experience and a new chapter of my life that I hadn’t discovered. I in no way want to down play depression or make light of any of this experience. I know that everyone will cope differently and this is just how I was able to cope and become happier within my life.

Looking back, I realize the Lord was always there as He always has been. I was making changes and decisions that would be my foundation and my strength in the months following. In the moment, I needed it the most, my foundation upheld me and strengthened me. My foundation is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  I began working as an ordinance worker in March. I started the Book of Mormon over in January and it’s like reading it for the first time. I began doing service for others within my life because I couldn’t sit in silence anymore. I started Preach My Gospel, so that if an opportunity ever came I would be ready to teach someone else. I have read over ten books on how to better myself. I was scared to be farther away from my Savior. I could feel myself drifting and clung to what I knew. I didn’t realize how much I already knew about the Gospel until it really mattered.

I can now say that without a doubt, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and its teachings are what truly save me every day. Heavenly Father has sent so many tools and angels along the way. I see them so clearly now. I have over a million reasons to be happy. I can’t believe that I ever questioned it. I can’t believe that I allowed my heart and my soul to be swayed in thoughts from the adversary. Thoughts that would harm me. I can’t believe that I even went through this experience. It’s hard to put into words, because I know it’s the farthest thing from who I truly am. But I am so grateful for it. Because it taught me the meaning of life, and most importantly my life.

I sit and think if I had chosen to be impulsive and not waited and listened for my answer, what I would have missed. It’s the first steps and first words of my nieces and nephew. It’s the long talks and long hugs with my mom and the unconditional everything that she provides. The sweet and kind temperament of my sister. The jokes and loving conversations with my brother in law. The patience that Abby teaches me as she goes through her life and Shania Twain dance parties. The real and hilarious moments with the girls and Nate. The advice and love from Alison and Eric. It’s the late-night conversations and laughs with Chantelle and her ability to be my best friend still through it all, the Face-Time conversations with Brooke and Sabra and my nieces from them. The four to five-hour phone conversations with Tan and the love that she radiates. The moments of watching Ashley’s family grow by number each year and her guidance throughout my life. Singing Celine Dion with Bay until our lungs hurt and all the heart to hearts we have. The late-night dance parties in my house with my beautiful roommates. The lessons and experiences that everyone in my ward has taught me. The friends that I made when my world fell apart. It’s my life and I can’t believe for one second that I thought it would be okay to miss it.

I reflect on this experience often since it has happened and feel incredibly sad for this girl. Even reading and writing this has been so painful. I have kept so much inside for too long. Knowing that my heart has changed immensely and I am so far from this girl I am writing about just gives me strength and courage to love myself. It’s okay for me to love myself, even when I was that girl. Like, I can accept all parts of who I am, even when I never suspected I would go through this. It’s not okay or healthy to feel the way that I felt and I knew that throughout my entire process.

I’ve spent a lot of time in my living room staring at a picture of the temple and wondering if I will ever reach my goals and if my life will truly mean something. Waiting for the perfect job, my list of hobbies to grow, my heart to love someone completely, etc. I’ve felt like my life has been on pause mode. As if I am sitting here pressing play but the disc is stuck. I thought that my life was going nowhere and that these past few months have been the worst of my life. That may be true but they have also been the best. I didn’t realize that my life happened in the pauses. My heart was rediscovered in the best way. I am a better person because of the pauses, who knew?

I have learned more in these past seven months about myself than I ever thought I could. I have sat at home a lot and pondered my meaning and the meaning of life. Where we fit, where we don’t. My mind has been given the ability to be clear and think concisely. I understand God’s plan for each and every one us. My testimony is more than a testimony. It is knowledge, undoubtedly that this Gospel is true. I’ve said it before but not like this. It’s like this time, I mean it wholeheartedly and I thought I did before. My heart and my spirit are routed within this Gospel. I love the Lord more than I ever thought I could. I love my Savior more than I thought humanly possible. I trust in Him and His teachings. I love the temple and know that we can be healed and strengthened by attending regularly. People are what make this Church good. I am thankful to have met the best and to have them in my life continually. Kindness and charity have played a huge role in my understanding of how Christ yearns for us to love one another. I know that my family will be together forever. I know that the Book of Mormon is true and that it healed my heart and my soul. I have no doubt that I am here for a reason and that it is great.

In sharing this experience, I think this is the scariest thing I have ever done. I want the message from this post to be “There are a million reasons to be happy and live your life, trust in the Lord and His teachings and your plan.” That is the biggest lesson that I learned, one that I thought I had already learned. It’s interesting how we are constantly refined throughout our lives. Progression, it’s the most beautiful gift that we are given. I know that this post is very invasive of my life and my heart. I hope it is treated with kindness and understanding. I know that it may seem like I am not doing well from this post, but the truth is, I’ve found my happiness. I understand now that it truly was never one thing or one person. It was me all along. I always had the power to be whatever I wanted to be. I hope that someone out there who is struggling and feeling alone knows that they are so deeply loved by our Heavenly Father and His Son. I believe that we go through experiences to teach and help one another. I think that this experience taught me everything about my life that is important. I want someone else to feel that. I felt so strongly that it needed to be shared. Even if it’s just one person, it’s enough. I mean it when I say, the Gospel saved me on April 12. There is so much more to be had within my life, I know that. I love the Lord, I love my family and I love this Gospel, with every single fiber of my being. It is my foundation and my salvation. I have come to know the Savior and trust in Him. This is real, I know it. This is my full and most raw testimony. I know with all my heart, He lives and He heals. Amen.

Feature Friday: Alli N

Alli and I have known each other since we were little kids. We were baptized on the same day, Halloween, were friends all through high school and have stayed in touch via social media. She has always been someone I've admired.
Alli was born and raised in Utah. She was a happy go lucky kind of girl growing up and was always happy, laughing, and just enjoyed life. She met her best friend and husband during a singles ward activity in 2010 and they were married six months later in the SLC Temple. They have been happily married for six and a half years now and have three beautiful children ages 4, 3, and 1.5. Her family is everything to me. She is a HIGH Fitness instructor and loves being able to help others feel the happiness that comes from a great workout.  She also loves to cook, spend time with her family, shop… for workout clothes… and eat ice cream.

One of my biggest dreams had always been to be a mom. I wanted it more than anything in the world. When my husband and I felt the strong impression to start a family back in 2012 we were ecstatic and spent our time as most soon to be parents do… tracking milestones, assembling nursery furniture, and anxiously awaiting the arrival of our sweet baby. After what seemed to be the longest nine months one could endure, our tiny little girl was born and little did I know at that moment, my life would change forever. Not only as a new mother, but as fighter of Post Partum Depression. 

The day our sweet Hadley made her way from Heaven into our arms was one of the happiest I can remember. Joy, Pure Joy! We had a very exciting few weeks following her birth including bringing her home on a crisp snowy Christmas Eve, our first Christmas as a family of three, a visit and help from my mom and mother in law, a break from school for my husband, parental leave, visits from family and friends, and lots of snuggling our little girl. Then…slowly, the excitement started to fade, and ordinary life began to creep in. Christmas decorations were put away, Brad returned to school and work, family returned home (which at the time was three hours away) and there I sat, alone, with our tiny baby, crying and wondering  “what now?” “I should be happy” I would tell myself “I just had a baby, and get to stay home and be a mom just like I have always dreamed!” but deep in the corner of my new mom self, I was sad, desperately sad, and very lonely. I was terrified that I was overcome with such feelings of darkness. I cried, I ate, I slept…anything to distract me from the pain I was feeling but nothing seemed to fill the void within me. 

I have always been a strong willed person. The type of person that struggles to ask for help and believes that I can “fix it all on my own”. Because of the pride of my heart I hid the struggle I was facing from everyone… even my husband. I thought that if anyone found out they would think that something was wrong with me as a person. I never considered that it was Post Partum Depression. I just thought something was wrong with me and I did my best to live day to day.

In my purist to “fix myself” I found a love for exercise and healthy eating. It helped immensely and after six months of struggle, I was finally feeling hope for healing. That was until my hormones took a terrifying plummet with the pregnancy and delivery of our second beautiful baby girl…a devastating miscarriage… and the pregnancy and delivery of our perfect little boy. I began to torment myself relentlessly by comparing myself to anyone and everyone, especially those close to me whom I view as the most amazingly beautiful and gifted women in the world. I began to dislike myself, my self-confidence was nonexistent, I was constantly consumed with thoughts of self-doubt and no matter what I tried, and they never went away. “You aren’t pretty enough.”, “you aren’t good enough.” “You aren’t skinny or fit enough.” “No one truly loves you.” “You will never be a good enough mom.” “You will never be a good enough wife.” You don’t have any useful skills or talents.” “Your family would be happier and better off without you.”…The self-destructive thoughts were endless. I felt broken. Satan had overcome my mind and I was too weak to fight back. I fully believed every lie that was whispered into my mind.  After our little boy was born I was completely overwhelmed with the thought of raising our three tiny kiddos while my husband continued working and going to school full time. I had some very difficult days. I struggled to get out of bed in the morning most days, but would put on my bravest face and go through the motions of mommying… I spent most of my time however withdrawn from my children and family. I felt like a bystander and an onlooker in my won family and in my own life. A move to a new city caused more stress than I ever thought imaginable and towards the end of July 2016, after a day gone wrong and words misunderstood, spending hours sobbing to my sweet husband about how horrible I was. I told him that I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t wake up in the morning. As he held me close while I could hardly breath a light clicked within me and I knew I needed help.

Throughout the course of my 4 year struggle:

I finally mustered up enough strength to tell my Husband about what I was going though, and even though he suggested I visit the Doctor, again my pride refused. 

I turned to my Heavenly Father with desperate pleas at night, begging Him to take this cross away from me. Promising that I would be a better mom and wife If He would just take it away. Like the loving Heavenly Father He is, he did not take it away.  But gave words through Elder Jeffery R Holland in his October 2013 General Conference Talk “Like a Broken Vessel” and through hymns that would enter my mind during times of despair. “Where can I turn for peace…where is my solace… when other sources seem to make me whole…who has the quiet hand to calm my anguish… who, who can understand? He, only one” “Be still my soul, the Lord is on thy side…with patience bear thy cross of grief or pain” “I believe in Christ, so come what may” these words always brought such peace.

Asked for and received more Priesthood blessings of peace and comfort than I have in my entire life, and received loving counsel from my Heavenly Father on how to feel happy.

Put aside my pride and started asking for help. I told my family the struggles I had been facing and started going to a therapist. 

My first visit to my therapist, I was diagnosed with severe postpartum depression. I was always completely against medications until my therapist explained what I was going through so vividly after spending an hour with her, she calmly went to the whiteboard that hung on her wall and drew a picture that will forever be engraved in my mind. She drew a picture of the layers of the ocean and a beaming sun. She explained that everyone has waves in their lives, ups and downs, just as there are waves on the sea. When you are dealing with depression, your mind sinks down under the water until that level becomes your new normal and it becomes harder to see the sunshine. She went on to explain that I had allowed myself to sink to the lowest level on her diagram, where it is nearly impossible to see the sunshine. She warned that medication would be the only thing to help get me back to the light, and after her beautiful explanation, I knew she was right. This was an ah-ha moment for me, and I quickly started my medications.

I have been in recovery for a year now. And along with taking my medications daily, I have become a fitness instructor, and love feeling the happiness that a great sweat can bring. Medication has not been a cure all, and this is a struggle that I will most likely face the rest of my life… but I know that God has a purpose in His divine plan for me to experience what I have gone through. Even though I do not know the reasoning behind it, I will continue to trust in Him and lean on Him as I did in my deepest darkest moments. Because He is the only one who has been with me through this entire journey and carried me when I could not carry myself. 

“Don’t you give up. Don’t you quit. You keep walking, you keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead Trust God, and believe in good things to come.”

                                         -Elder Jeffery R. Holland

Feature Friday: Allie S

I am lucky enough to be able to serve with Allie in the YW's in our ward. She has such a light about her and her bubbliness is contagious.
Allie was born and raised in Ogden, UT. She's the middle child of 5. She graduated in Family Life at BYU and married her high school crush in the Salt Lake Temple! She's now the mother to two, Lydia and Benson. She loves being a stay-at-home mom and does a little photography & videography on the side. She also loves cleaning, shopping, and playing tennis! Allie is also my visiting teacher and she mentioned to me that she had postpartum depression and anxiety. She agreed to share her story when I asked her if she would be willing and so here it is.

THE SCARIEST THING I’VE DONE…

Here I am 3 weeks in to one of the scariest things I’ve done. The experience I had after having my first baby scared me so much I thought I would never attempt it again, but somehow I mustered up the courage and here, 3 weeks in to this (is it bad to label this stage as crappy!?) newborn stage and I’m still a little scared to death. Luckily, this time hasn’t been as bad postpartum depression-wise, but the anxiety has still creeped in and been a little nasty. Again I wonder why time seems to glide along when life is easy and going as planned, but when hard times hit it seems as though time stands soooo still despite your desire of it to speed along?? I’ve once again felt a little “stuck” in a place I really don’t like and become obsessed with the future (6 weeks when I feel more “normal” and he smiles for real or 4 months when he is capable of sleeping through the night, etc. etc.) and when things will be good again. I’m trying to simply pass time, yet enjoy and be “present” but at the same time “present” kind of hurts. Thankfully, Lydia has been my daily distraction and such a joy to me, which is a little ironic given she was the reason causing my pain just 3 years ago. But, I’m also reminded how my favorite stage in her is being wished away to get Benson to the stage I want (is having my cake and eating it too too much to ask!?) I’m so grateful for modern medicine and formula, which I owe a lot of my sanity this go-round to, not to mention my very supportive family and husband. I’ve pondered a lot on God’s plan for our lives–it seems though the one thing he is trying to teach us through trials, is letting go of control. I think I’ve always thought of control as a positive attribute since it associates with organization and planning well, but the more I’ve pondered I realize control isn’t a Godly attribute even though God is in control. Controlling was part of Lucifer’s plan and our desire to control everything in our lives comes from the natural man, not our divine nature. So, here I carry on…trying to give up my control and trust in a Heavenly Father who has a perfect plan for my life.

This is Allie's experience after having her first baby:
July 4, 2014—I can still remember the tender feelings I had so keenly. That Independence Day was different than any other 4th of July Holiday. The feelings were surreal, everything was so new and it kind of felt like a dream. You were born that morning at 1:17am and between our yawns of exhaustion we laughed that the one day I did not want you to come on (my thoughts were why combine your celebrations when you can have two full days of it!?), you made your appearance, a whole week late at that! Instead of hustling around all day trying to take full advantage of every festivities going on (the 4th of July has always been a favorite holiday!), we walked down the quiet hospital maternal floor that night to a set of large windows and watched fireworks from all over the area as we ate dinner. The view was amazing (sorry we had to leave you back at the nursery!) and the night seemed perfect.
Now, a couple months later, the name “Independence Day” has never hit more home. That day, every American celebrated our nation’s independence. Now, we will forever celebrate it as your very own Independence Day and entrance into our lives. In retrospect, the name Independence is exactly what was gained, not just for our nation, but for me particularly. It seemed not long after we left the hospital and walked in the door of our home, that…

the feelings came.

Feelings I had never felt before (or at least that intense). The only way to describe it was the feeling of being stuck. Stuck in a situation I couldn’t escape. Stuck in feelings I couldn’t seem to overcome. Feelings of sadness, depression, anger, hopelessness, loneliness, and the most overwhelming, anxiety, took over and I felt my freedom had been stripped right from me. Yet, I still felt stuck because there was no way of getting out of it, only going directly through it (as much as I wanted (oh please forgive me in my unhealthy mind!), I knew putting you up for adoption was not going to happen (your Dad just wouldn’t let me! thankfully!), and though I look back and laugh, it was real in the moment). I had frantically tried anything and everything I could to simply get back to my normal happy self, but despite my attempts it just seemed like “Allie wasn’t home” and still, I just felt…

stuck.

I was trying to keep a balance between allowing myself some room since it could be the post-partum hormones and also a little nudge to force myself to adjust since it could be just me (I do NOT do good with change). Either way, it was how I felt and I couldn’t seem to get out on top. Day after day was an unbearable battle. Prayer, family, and the Lord’s tender mercies saved me, literally (and I will forever be grateful for them). Some days that little 10-minute feeling of hope was the only light I seemed to see. I remember my sister making the comment, not by mere coincidence,

“Allie, what if she is your freedom?”

And one day (August 11, 2014), the freedom finally came! The freedom from the hell I had been stuck in for nearly 5 weeks. The freedom from an over-anxious mind that wouldn’t stop thinking and simply just feel. The freedom of looking in your eyes and seeing worlds without end. It didn’t seem like I did anything different, but I was just able to keep on top instead of drowned in the emotions that consumed me. It came and I thank my Heavenly Father every day for the miracle He provided me this summer and…

the freedom he gave me with you.

So, Independence Day it is and I couldn’t be more happy! Heavenly Father works in wondrous ways and I’ll forever be grateful for Him, my Savior, my family and friends, and that amazing, patient, unconditionally-loving Dad of your, well ours.

After much thought and pondering, I have felt that perhaps I experienced what I did for others; and, even more close to home…

perhaps you.

I hurt for you to think you may ever have to experience it; but then again I remember the big picture and know that through such difficulty comes strength and testimonies beyond our own.

In my case, some may label it as “Post-Partum Depression” and blame it on hormones. Others do not believe in such and may consider it a difficulty adjusting. I have realized, whatever it is truly is does not matter. You feel it and it is real. If it is something you will draw closer to God with, can we not consider it a divine design in our creation, whether hormone- or personality-induced. You will spend more time arguing with yourself about what it is than ever come to a conclusion. It could be both (as I do not discount hormones and adjustment difficulties definitely play big parts in our life experiences). But, I do know that…

it is real.

Just as you can’t change the weather, you cannot always change the way you feel. But…

you are entitled to peace.

And remember that, it will save you as it did for me. You keep trying. You keep your head up for “better days to come” because…

they come.

“Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don’t come until heaven; but for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come.” (Jeffrey R. Holland, “An High Priest of Good Things to Come”).