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”).

Feature Friday: Elise

Elise and I served in the same mission, but we were able to meet before she left (one transfer ahead of me). I was dating a boy who knew her family and attended her farewell, it was great. She recently shared this story on Facebook and was willing to let me share it here - it's a little different from what is normally posted but has a new perspective that is a good reminder.
Elise has been married to her husband for three years. They have a little girl who just turned two last week. She is a stay at home working mom, a photographer and videographer based out of Southern Utah.

A few months ago, my daughter and I were attacked by a man with a deadly weapon.

I won't go into details for legal and personal purposes.

Needless to say, I legitimately thought I might die that day.


By the grace of God, we were both spared with absolutely no physical wounds, although damage was done in other ways.

I have stopped going for walks around the neighborhood due to anxiety of encountering strangers.

I have anxiety about driving around my neighborhood, and I lock my car doors as soon as I sit down.

The night that it happened, I had a full on anxiety attack, was sick to my stomach, and my husband had to help me with some calming therapy techniques.


I wasn't myself for days... I was extra jumpy and anxious at the grocery store. People walking towards me, or standing behind me totally freaked me out. Several people ended up apologizing to me for scaring me. haha. Even though they had done absolutely nothing wrong!


The case was going to go to trial and I was called to testify.

I was sick to my stomach for about a week due to anxiety over this whole matter.

Random people and strangers would ask me if I was ok because of this look that I had on my face when I would zone out and think about being in the same room as this man, and being interrogated and attacked by his attorney.

Thankfully, (I think) the case was cancelled and my attacker settled so that I did not have to face him in court.


So today I am celebrating.

I am a survivor of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon.

So is my little baby girl.

Justice was served to my attacker, and for that I am grateful.

I didn't have to go to court and testify (yayyy!)

Now we can move on and leave this icky situation behind us. (Hopefully)


I am especially grateful to God and His angels that he sent to protect my baby girl and myself.

I am forever and ever and ever grateful for the police officers that came to our rescue.

My eyes well up in tears whenever I think of our heroes that serve us on a daily basis and risk their lives so selflessly for ours. THANK YOU!

I am grateful to the good citizens of America that step in to be witnesses and help in such terrible situations.

I am grateful to be alive and well today and for every day that is to come.

I am grateful for a different perspective that I have on life, and the appreciation and respect that I have for victims and people that have near death experiences FAR, FAR worse than mine.


Today I invite you to celebrate with me.

Let us today celebrate our loved ones.

Let us celebrate this day of life that we have been blessed with.

Let us celebrate our heroes and police officers.

Let us celebrate our God Almighty, who is present in the darkest of moments.

And let us celebrate new chapters!

Feature Friday: Kate

Kate was in my ward growing up, but I didn't know her very well. Thank goodness for social media where we can follow each other and get to know people better. I found out through her Instagram that she struggles with mental illness and she was kind enough to write this story for the blog. You will not regret reading it! It brought tears to my eyes multiple times and I am so impressed with her and how she has handled this trial. She is a strong, amazing woman!
Kate is a wife to an adventurous, adorable husband Jake, a mother of three beautiful children and a USU graduate. Since having her third baby, a little over a year ago, she has experienced postpartum anxiety, depression and panic disorder. She still works on these illnesses everyday. As difficult as these challenges have been, they've definitely helped her come to know Christ in such a personal way. And it makes her want to share my testimony of Him so much!! In truth His Grace IS the story. It's what saved her before, during and after postpartum depression.

To begin with, a little back story. I have three kids. No depression after our first son, but then a few years later I experienced my first panic attack a few months after our second baby, a daughter, was born. I subsequently dealt with some anxiety that made me apprehensive to ever have another baby. A few years passed. But, my husband and I felt that we would have another baby and when we made the decision on faith to have another baby, we felt the Spirit very strongly affirming that we had made the right decision. It felt like the angels rejoiced! That spiritual experience gave me a lot of courage moving forward. Not long after we made that decision, we were asked to be a Ma and Pa on our ward's youth pioneer trek. Sweet, huh!? Inside I was like, "what if I get pregnant and have to walk across the plains all sick and uncomfortable?" But, I was also excited for the opportunity. And the months rolled by and we weren't expecting yet, so Trek was a go and we headed off. Later, I would learn how this experience would prove how very aware God is of our situations and will teach us in ways we understand to prepare us and uphold us BEFORE, DURING and AFTER our trials. You see, that's the amazing thing about the Infinite Atonement- His Grace is always there and reaches us in all directions to cover us.

So, on Trek, my husband Jake and I were given the assignment to represent a couple who had lived and crossed the plains with the Martin and Willie Handcart companies, Jens and Elsie Nielsen. Near Rocky Ridge, we were to reenact an event that happened to them. So, Jens and Elsie had come from Denmark and had a young son, Nels and were also bringing a little girl with them for another family named Bodil. After both the children had already died, Jens and Elsie continued on the trail and as they neared Rocky Ridge, Jens' feet were so frozen he sat down on the side of the trail and told Elsie to leave him there. But Elsie couldn't leave him and courageously told her husband to get in the cart and she would pull him. So, while the youth and other leaders moved on ahead of us on our pioneer trek, we were instructed to hang back and then when they were at the top of a hill, listening to the story while Jake sat down and acted like his feet were hurt and then I would help him into the cart and try and pull him. I think at the time, I thought for sure I could pull him a little. It wasn't in deep snow, and I was in good physical shape. But when I put my hands on the wood handle and tried to pull,  my feet slid and I struggled and couldn't move the cart even one inch. Now i was in tears thinking of the miracle of little Elsie pulling her husband over Rocky Ridge and how the angels HAD to have been there to help her. At that moment, the youth watching us up ahead started running down the hill and surrounded the cart and we took off. We not only walked up the hill, WE RAN. It was a testament to me that God is there to help us in our trials. We are not required to face them alone. I laughed in exhilaration and gratitude as I thought this running up that hill.

A few months following our trek experience, we were absolutely thrilled to find out we were expecting a baby the following May. Pregnancy went well and our darling Holland James was born! A week or so after he was born, I felt the very familiar anxiety that I had experienced before and let my family know as well as the Relief Society President that I would be needing some help. What followed were several months of miracles and severe difficulties I could not have anticipated.  I would feel very very discouraged and overwhelmed about the simplest of tasks. The exhaustion became overpowering and tears were plentiful and common. I had previously enjoyed baking, gardening and caring for my family, but couldn't convince myself to do much and lost interest in doing so. My appetite fluctuated a lot and had a lot of difficulty sleeping even when the baby would sleep. I started blacking out, having dizzy spells and feeling nauseous often. Cognitive function slowed to a snail pace.

Through the months I received calls, text messages, meals and offers to help often several times a day, just to check and see how I was doing. I call these angels "cart pullers." I was doing my very best to care for my family and usually made it thru the day okay, but functioning was quite painful and difficult. I visited the doctor and got counseling. I still taught YW lessons and attended church, prayed very often day and night, studied scriptures and listened to sacred music. And even with all this, the illness didn't go away.

Come October, I began having multiple panic attacks per day, brought on by a parade, driving in a car and upbeat music. After a visit to a psychiatrist where his diagnosis was panic disorder, major depressive disorder and anxiety disorder, he prescribed a medication and I felt very hopeful about things that night after I had started the first dose. I went to bed and a few hours later was awakened with a burst of heat and pop in my heart and it started to race and my body began to shake. I awoke my husband and he alerted a neighbor who is an EMT to come help with a reaction to medicine. He monitored my heart rate and although it was racing he kept reassuring me that my color looked good, that it wasn't an actual heart attack. I shook in terror and was barraged with intrusive suicidal thoughts for about 45 minutes to an hour and then was able to get up and then had to go outside and run and walk for nearly 5 hours to just tolerate the pain and panic. I listened to songs about Christ as I walked the streets in our neighborhood. I noticed a broken sprinkler in our neighbors yard. We texted her to let her know we would try and turn off the water so her basement wouldn't flood. She came outside in her pajamas all bleary eyed and told me, "you're so good to walk with anxiety. I just lay in bed and shake." It totally caught me off guard and made me laugh. We got her water turned off and chatted for a few minutes in her front room in the middle of the night. I saw it as a tender mercy. She had experienced panic before and gave me the reassurance I needed right then in my darkest hour. When I could finally go inside my house and pace, I walked and read the Book of Mormon and then when I could sit down, I would sit and focus all my energy on allowing myself to feel the pain. I plead with the Lord for His comfort, strength and protection to become infused into my body. I placed a large painting of Christ at the end of the couch so that I could look at Him. You see, those suicidal thoughts were overpowering. Not that I planned or had any desire to hurt or kill myself, it was just an overwhelming fear that I would lose control and do something to hurt myself. My uncle had taken his life years earlier and I was terrified that it would happen to me.

This experience caused me to lose my appetite. I started dropping pounds and couldn't sleep most nights because as soon as I would drift off, a panic attack would wake me up.

I think it was so so difficult because I was doing everything I knew to help myself get better and my family was rallying around me and friends were helping us, and it wasn't getting better. It was getting worse. I was pleading with God to teach me and heal me and felt abandoned. I had only ever wanted to be a mom and raise my family, which I felt were good desires. But I would listen to, "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go" and felt strengthened. I would pour out my heart to God and the only answer I got was to keep going, that He was there and that I needed to pass thru this experience for His purposes. I remember questioning why I had this illness. Was it because of something I was doing wrong or a punishment of some sort? But the Spirit would remind me of the blind man who was born that way. The people asked the Lord who had sinned, the man or his parents? But the Lord taught that his blindness was to show forth the power of God in healing Him. So, that helped me be patient.

Also, as I would prepare Young Women Lessons (I'm serving as a Laurel Advisor), there were always lessons I desperately needed at the time. Like the Gratitude lesson... I studied about how we are to thank God in ALL circumstances and was prompted to thank God not only for everything surrounding the illness, like making my son a sandwich or fixing my daughters hair and getting thru the day, but to thank Him for the illness itself. It was humbling and hard, but when I did, I felt my heart open a little bit and the Lord showed me how my testimony of Christ and my relationship with Him was becoming stronger, even unbreakable as I passed thru this trial and exercised faith and patience in His plan.

One day, I was at church and a gal was giving a lesson about our homes being a holy place. She asked us to close our eyes and imagine our homes. She asked us if Christ would feel at home there. At that moment, I had a very strong impression as I pictured my living room and kitchen with lunch still on the table and some messes around from getting ready for church that day and I pictured the Savior there with me, smiling as He said, "I've been here before. Remember that night? I was right here with you." And I knew in retrospect that He had carried me thru that night of the bad reaction.

Things started to get a little better, but the memory of that night and the dark thoughts created more material for the illness to work with. Sometimes I felt absolutely abandoned and as the illness worsened, it became very difficult to feel warmth or the Holy Ghost anymore. It was like I was pounding on the doors of Heaven and no one was answering. But even though the illness made me unable to feel it, He sent others who could to reassure me and remind me He was still there. An example of this was one night I went to a young women activity and was having one of those dark dark days. My friend Kristina was standing behind me and when I turned to face her, she had tears in her eyes and said, "Why do I feel like I need to hug you?" She was unaware of my struggles, but was in tune with the Spirit and it was a tangible witness that God was aware and even though I couldn't feel Him, He loved me and was still there. I knew I could keep enduring. Her hug kept me going.

For a time, foot zoning, exercise and sunshine got me through, but by Christmas time, I was sicker than ever. I went 3 days and 3 nights without really eating or sleeping at all. In desperation, I had made 3 more doctor's appointments that week to try and find help. By the 3rd, my sister was driving me there and I tried to eat an orange and found I could no longer swallow. My body shook and I was terrified. I asked my sister to take me to the Emergency Room. There was a social worker there and when she walked into the little room, I looked at her and honestly, my first thought was that she looked like a fairy godmother. Pretty, brown eyes, silver hair, a long dress and little glasses on the end of her nose. Her name was Kelly. She listened to me tell her how I could no longer eat, sleep or even really sit up straight. I felt on the verge of psychosis and was attacked by intrusive thoughts about hurting myself or my baby. She looked at me so kindly and boldly told me, "I know I don't know you very well, but from what I can tell, you're not going to do those things." She told me I needed to start meditating using Headspace, start baking again, recommended some therapists and that the doctor needed me to take some medication (Ativan) to try and reset my nervous system. Having so much fear of medication from last experience, I was afraid what it might do to me. She said, "I want you to take a deep breath and say to yourself, 'this is going to help." I took it and it did help. For the next week, I took a little before bed and ever so slowly and steadily, things improved. I weaned my baby from nursing him, which was hard, but he did great in formula. Things have taken a turn for the better and the warmth and light have come back since the first part of January. I found a good therapist, a supplement Q96 that is helping, I meditate and am learning great coping techniques that ARE working. I am happy, cooking dinner, running, sleeping, living again and I feel Heavenly Father's love everyday now.
There are still setbacks and difficulties at times, but I continue to look for ways to help. I have since started another medication and this time it's helping!!

I think one of the most important things I needed to know when the darkness was so thick, it was that the Savior was there with me, He understood and would help me endure, that struggles can be changed into rejoicing someday thru His Grace and that I could and WOULD get better. It was hard to see that I would ever improve at the time. I want to help other people to know these things so much!!!!!! And, lastly, my baby is absolutely wonderful. I adore my family and we are doing well. Life is still stressful and busy, but I am enjoying it so much again... I would say even more than I ever have before.

Oh, and the whole pioneer trek experience was something I come back to often in my struggles that reminds me there are people pulling with me on both sides of the veil. I feel that experience was a tender mercy that took place to help me thru what was coming. And it did!! It still does. Those pioneers did what they did for us! God's plan is so detailed and perfect and expansive!

Feature Friday: Madi

Madi and I lived in the same ward for a little while and after we became friends on Facebook she shared a blog post about her experience of coming home from her mission. I instantly felt a connection with her and she was kind enough to write this for this blog. 

My favorite scripture found in D&C reads,

"Verily, Verily, I say unto thee, blessed art thou for what thou hast done; for thou has inquired of me, and behold as often as thou hast inquired of me, and behold, as often as thou hast inquired thou hast received instruction of my Spirit. If it had not been so, thou wouldst not have come to the place where thou art at this time"

I know that everything happens for a reason. And because of the choice I made back then, I am where I am today. When I decided to serve a mission I never thought it would turn into a “trial”. Yet it was the best trial I have ever faced. So many emotions come with my experience. Happiness, love, anxiety, tears, but most importantly growth.

Almost 3 years ago I entered the MTC, I’m sure we can all remember how emotional that day is. The excitement soon left as I was overcome with severe anxiety. I was so confused as I could not pinpoint as to where it was coming from.  I spent countless hours on my knees, praying to my heavenly father to make it all go away. It was starting to wear on me and people began to notice. After being referred to different counselors I was put on some medication. I had never felt more defeated. Never did I think that I would have to rely on medication for something I should have been able to control. Fast forward a few weeks... I was sent home on a medical release. They had decided I needed to go home and get better before flying off to Argentina.

As hard as it was for me to come home, it would have been even harder for me to stay. Since returning home I have grown so much. I have gained such an amazing relationship with my Heavenly Father. I can truly say that going to the MTC was exactly what I needed. I needed to learn how to hit my knees when things got tough, I needed to learn to appreciate the love he has for me.

Everyone says that you gain an amazing testimony being a full time missionary. I don’t doubt it, but the testimony I have gained from this trial is nothing short of amazing!! I am so grateful for the opportunity I had to serve. Whether it was for 18 months or for 1 month. I changed. That change is everything to me. The MTC opened my eyes to things that staying home wouldn’t have. My testimony of this gospel has grown so much over the past few years and continues to grow every day. Before decided to serve, I was lost. Life was hard and I found myself confused at what direction to turn, but when I turned to him, when I looked up, I found answers. I felt the love from my savior, a love I still feel today. I began to have the light of Christ shine within me. I was happier. I am forever grateful for the chance I had to serve as a missionary. I may not have converted the people in the mission field, but I converted myself.

Why Mental Illnesses Are Tough On Everyone

I had an eye opening conversation with my sister-in-law, who I look up to in so many ways, and I wanted to share some of the things we discussed. I learned new things about mental illness, even though I've had it for almost 6 years now, and I hope the things I learned will benefit others. That is always my goal!

The overall kind of "topic" that I took away from our conversation was that mental illnesses are tough for everybody; whether you are the person diagnosed with the illness, the person living with someone who has the illness, or even the person who knows someone who struggles with the illness, it is tough for anyone who may be involved.

The person diagnosed with the illness. Personally, I think this is the toughest to deal with. I know I am biased, but it's one thing to see someone going through something hard vs. experiencing it for yourself. Just like with any illness or disease. There are so many new experiences a person goes through when first experiencing this illness, and continues to go through during the duration of their time suffering. And that time suffering may end after getting medical attention or seeing a counselor, but it also may be something they deal with for their entire life. Either way, it is tough. Each new phase of life can bring with it a new type of disorder (bipolar, depression, anxiety, postpartum, obsession/compulsion, etc.). I feel like I will get a handle on my illness and then life will present itself with something I haven't experienced before, such as: an intense college program, a pregnancy, a baby, a new job, etc. And those are just things I've experienced myself. It could be other things like a mortgage, an unfaithful spouse, infertility or a miscarriage, a mission, being denied a job or grad application. There are any number of things that can trigger a mental illness, and each time can be different. I feel like I have figured out, for the most part, how to help myself and what I can do to feel better or move on when I'm having a hard time, but it's something I have to keep adapting to. It changes. I have often said that having this illness hasn't gotten any easier, I've just learned how to deal with it. It's tough, but it evolves into a different kind of tough.

Looking back on my life I can see little bits of anxiety, but I didn't know that's what it was until I was diagnosed and decided to learn more about mental illness. I think that's where mental illness gets the short end of the stick, we aren't really taught much about it. Growing up I was taught that I shouldn't smoke so that I won't develop lung cancer, to put sunscreen on to hopefully prevent skin cancer, to eat well and exercise to prevent cardiovascular disease or type 2 diabetes, to use a condom or abstain from sex to prevent STDs or an unwanted pregnancy. Of course sometimes the things we do to prevent illness isn't enough (a flu vaccine and still getting the flu), I realize that. Sometimes we can only do so much, and that can be when getting sick is the most frustrating, when we have done all we were supposed and yet here we are... in a Doctor's office talking about treatment options. My point is, I feel like I learned a fair amount about disease but it wasn't until college, and I had to seek it out, that I learned about mental illnesses. And maybe the things they teach in primary education have changed, I honestly hope it has, because I think this could be crucial in helping people who suffer. Oftentimes it's about education. If you have the chance to learn more about mental illness please don't hesitate. It seems that there are more and more resources becoming available. (This blog is supposed to be one of those resources, so please let me know if there is anything I can talk about or help with.) And if you are the one who suffers you are kind of forced to learn more (at least that was my experience), but if you aren't please choose to learn more so you can help those who do. Which leads me into the next person who this is tough on.

But before I talk about that person I do want to ask the person diagnosed with the illness to be willing to accept help from others. I know how tough that can be, trust me, but when we deny others the chance to help and serve we deny them blessings. I had a dear friend in my old ward text me one day and ask what she could do for me or if I needed anything. I usually say no and that I'm doing alright in those situations, but this time I had the feeling I needed to let go of my pride and just let her do something for me. She asked me what my favorite treats/drinks were and she brought me some Gatorade and SoBe. It was something very simple, but she was persistent, and it made me feel better. She blessed my life and I know Heavenly Father blessed her for helping out one of His children.

The person living with someone who has the illness. Anyone who has lived with me since 2012 has had a hard time in one way or another, and that is not my fault (although it has taken me some time to realize that). I want to make that very clear. IT'S NO ONE'S FAULT. It's life. And life happens. It's a disability, and anyone who has lived with or served someone with a disability knows that it's no one's fault but that it's just part of their life and your life and it is what it is. Sometimes this person chooses to live with someone who has the illness and other times they don't have that choice. People in my life have experienced both. I had companions on my mission who didn't have a choice but to live with me and I have a wonderful husband who knew that I had this illness (but maybe he didn't really know what he was getting himself into ha, sorry honey). And then there's also my parents, who kind of had to take care of me but chose to as well, a little bit of both.

When I look back on my mission I often feel bad for most of my companions (I say most because I wasn't diagnosed until 5 months into my mission when I really started struggling, so the first few companions got the more sane version of me). I was going through my own person Hell and I feel like I dragged them through the coals with me. I know that I wasn't easy to live with, serve with, talk with, or be with a majority of the time. Even though I knew that I still couldn't help what I was experiencing. Sometimes I would try and push it aside and get over it and other times it would consume me and there wasn't much I could do or even wanted to do, and my poor companions just had to roll with it. Bless their hearts. I enjoy being liked, and I was worried that these people who saw me at my worst would hate me for what I put them through, but Heavenly Father is oh so good and He blessed me with companions who I will cherish and love forever. I have some amazing friendships now because of my mission, and I will be forever grateful. Heavenly Father blessed me with companions who were understanding and did their best to help me. I know our time serving together as companions was as tough for me as it was for them. So quick little shout out to my AMAZING companions, I love you Hermanas, more than you'll ever know!

I've mentioned this a little in previous blog posts but my husband and I don't go in to much detail about my illness. We did more so when we were engaged and in the beginning of our marriage because I think Dan was trying to understand and adjust to something he hadn't dealt with before. But now I just tell him when I'm having a hard day so he has a heads up. He asks me what he can do and I used to talk to him about what I was experiencing, but sometimes it's just hard to explain and that can make it hard to understand so now I just ask him to bring me chocolate or hold me. I think it's easier to keep it simple, for both of us. Example: a few weeks ago I had a total breakdown and he came home to me sitting on the couch, bawling, and all I wanted was to snuggle with him. Neither of us said anything, we just sat there, and in that moment nothing could've helped me more. Words aren't always the answer, which works out well when you don't know what to say. I've learned over the years that it can be hard for people to know how to help me, especially when I don't always know.

The person who knows someone who struggles with the illness. I think we are to a point in our lives where we all know someone who has a mental illness, even if it's just an acquaintance. With that being said I wouldn't be surprised if you've wanted to help someone but didn't really know how, and that can be tough for several different reasons. How do you ask someone with an illness about it without crossing the line? Because there is a line. And that line changes depending on how this person is doing. But how are you supposed to know that? As my sister-in-law and I were discussing these things it hit me how truly tough this can be for people who have the desire to help. I have been in several situations where someone has had good intentions but those good intentions didn't help. And it's not their fault, again no one is at fault, because their heart was in the right place. I hate to say this but sometimes having your heart in the right place isn't enough, and that's why this is SO TOUGH! When people tell me not to worry and that everything will be ok and that I should just focus on others instead of myself, I know they mean well, but they aren't helping. That is not what I need or want to hear, but again, how are they supposed to know that? Especially when everyone who has a mental illness has a unique situation and what works for one may not work for another. Hopefully I can provide a little bit more help and insight for this problem.

I think persistence is key. If you really want to help someone with a mental illness then don't give up on them. It can be hard to open up about what they're experiencing and going through, but if they see you genuinely care and are interested then I know you will be able to provide that help eventually. Sometimes we're not in the right mood or mindset to talk about our illness, and other times we are. It can be all about timing, so don't give up! After you ask, "How are you?" and you get the vague answer, if you feel like you can ask again then DO IT, but maybe ask, "How are you really?" so they know you really care and want to know.

Another thing that my sister-in-law told me she had talked with someone was to take the focus off of the person with the illness and make it about you, which I thought was a pretty good idea. Example: "Hey, I need to get out of my house. Want to go to lunch/go on a walk?" or "Want to come watch a movie with me?" Make them feel like they're helping you, it takes off some of the pressure they may feel.

One thing that has always stuck with me from Preach My Gospel and my missionary days is how important it is to listen. In missionary context we were told that people would always talk about something that could be related to the Gospel, and it was true. Somehow anything anyone would say could be tied back to the Gospel and we could take it and run with it. The same kind of thing applies here, if you are listening to what this person has to say and genuinely care about helping them then I promise you will be able to do so. And the thing that they say may not even have anything to do with their illness but if you're listening you will be able to help. Always have a prayer in your heart and I promise Heavenly Father and the Spirit will guide you. I know that He wants to help His children and that He needs us to help others.

I hope this provided some insight and help for everyone. Please comment with any thoughts you may have or things that have helped you, and please share this blog with anyone that could benefit.

With love and hope, Ally
XOXO