Sweetheart!

Sometimes I wish I was described as "such a sweetheart". I guess I feel if I could fit that description I would fit in better in different areas of my life. That it wouldn't feel like it was so hard for people to get along with me. And that I wouldn't have such a hard time with the relationships in my family life. I try to wear the title, but I guess it doesn't fit. It just falls right off possibly because I'm to hard from my experiences-- I'd prefer to say strong, but I can be a bit harder too.

There's no point in wearing a title that doesn't fit. Just toss it aside and find the strength in what you're really are. For years I apologized for many things that I am. One example is my body. No matter how skinny I was my stomach wasn't flat, my arms weren't small and my thighs always touched. I remembered a guy saying he was "scared" of me because I had big arms. I always wished I was a dainty little swimsuit model. That men would find me appealing, not fearsome. But nowadays I'm not shaming my body. I'm glorying in it. I may not be skinny, but a lot of that is how I'm built, and a lot of that bulk is muscle. I'm glad too be strong in this way and now it's important for me to use those big arms to compete in a man's world. If I can prove to myself that I am capable of these things, then I myself will know I am capable of so much more.

 New baby chicks at our house.

Mine is named Wisenheimer.

I've always admired women of great strength. Women who didn't do what they are told. Women who questioned, and fought for what they believed in. When I presented that part of me to certain area's of my life I began to feel ashamed. Maybe I shouldn't have modeled myself after these woman. But as I study midwifery and learn more about this career and how I may need to fight for a woman who is, at the time, in a vulnerable position I begin to realize I am not a mistake.

I have dropped some things. I used to love a good fight. I used to love it when someone would say something that was rude or annoying to I could just hold on to it, rant about it and let my passionate anger grow. Then when something else would happen I would just adore it, so I could justify everything all the more. I no longer want that. I don't want anger. I don't want annoyance. I don't change my opinion, I just try to find common ground, and remind myself to not let this change me into a monster.

Many times growing up I remember men, usually in their 60's, telling me, "You are so pretty, I bet the boys are beating down the door." Or something along those lines. They were shocked I struggled to find dates. OK, never had a date. . .EVER! They would tell me I needed to put myself out there. One Bishop told me that a man would be lucky to have me as a wife because I would be an excellent mother. It's funny I always felt like I was lucky if a guy would even give me a little attention. It happened so rarely. It's funny now, I look back and think, "What did it matter? Why were my looks so impressive? What did it ever get me?" I had a friend say to me once, whilst I complained about my zits, "At least when you look in the mirror you can see that you're pretty." OK I honestly don't remember how that quote went. It was a long time ago. I remember "look in the mirror" and the general feeling that she was saying how lucky I was that I had something pretty looking back at me. I think she felt that she didn't have that and that if she did her life would be so much better. All I can say is it doesn't matter. As pretty as I am. . .was. . .or skinny as I am. . .was. . .I would still look in the mirror and see someone I was disappointed in. Someone I thought was to heavy, or unattractive, because she never got attention from men. The only men that told me I was pretty was my Dad, and men in their 60's.

What matters is where you seek validation. All too often I seek outside validation. But then I hear the voice of my Heavenly Father calling me back saying, "Focus on me. Focus on what I think." Even when I appear to disappoint the world I can seek him and ask, "Am I doing what you asked me to?" And I can know that I don't need the world to agree with me. I have counseled with my Heavenly Father, and I am following his promptings as best as I can.

I feel like I have apologized for who I am for a greater part of my life. "Sorry I'm not skinny." "Sorry I'm not a damsel in distress, and sorry if I am." "Sorry I'm not impressed by your mustang." "Sorry I'm too needy." "Sorry I'm too depressed." "Sorry I can't get through this the way you think I should." But now I realize there are things you don't need to apologize for. And the things that are a part of me, and are there to help me fulfill my mission on this Earth, are things I don't want to apologize for anymore. Sometimes getting an outside opinion is nice, but sometimes I need to remember my Heavenly Father made me who I am, and that those things are part of me for a reason.

P.S. Hope you enjoyed some of my artwork. I love to draw, but gave it up in Jr. High because I wasn't "the best". I may not be the best, but I draw well enough, and I enjoy what I draw.