Viva Las Vegas!

This last week found me in the city of Las Vegas. Those who know me well know this is my absolute favorite place to go. I've visited family there since I was little. I have always loved getting to visit my family members, and I have always loved the city. To this day the smell of cigarette smoke triggers happy memories in my brain. And if you ever travel with me there be prepared to sing "Viva Las Vegas" as you come up over the hill to see the lights start flooding the valley.

One year, around the age of 10 or so, I cried as we made our departure from the city. Ever since than I've cried every time I leave. I'm not sure why. I really don't want to live there. I enjoy many things about my life as it is, but still I'm always sad to say, "Goodbye."

I guess somewhere, somehow, Vegas became a part of me. It's hard when I visit these days though. It's not the same that it once was. The part of me that grew up with it, loves it and always looks forward to visiting it, is slowly realizing Vegas may betray me one day and become a place I hate.

This is partly because Vegas is stepping away from being the Vegas it was when I was little. It now promotes the side that's an adult playground, and that includes promoting everything I hate(will not stand on soap box at this point, but if you ever want to have a long conversation about it let me know). But another part has to do with a more personal aspect. Last time I was in Vegas was May of 2011. The year 2011 was not the happiest year of my life-- and that's a terrible understatement. Looking back on that trip isn't something I'm willing to do in great detail. The memories from that time all just feel like lies, which makes it hard to believe any happiness I might have felt.

But I still love my Las Vegas. I love it as something that is a part of me. It was there before marriage and kids, and before all the things that happened. Therefore it's a kind of an anchor for me, even with it's ever changing face. I know that sounds weird, but that's what makes it something I need to hang on to. It is now the source of happy memories and sad one's. But I need to fight for the happy one's. They are more important.

To add to the enjoyment of Vegas I discovered a Godfather's Pizza just outside the city, at a gas station. Can you believe it? Can anyone say delicious? I haven't had this since I was little. Hello dear Cinnamon Streusel, where have you been and why did you EVER leave?

I definitely enjoyed my memories from this trip! Thank you to all my wonderful family who made this trip so fun and special!

Quote's That Struck a Chord

"People who engage in expressive writing report feeling happier and less negative than before writing. Similarly, reports of depressive symptoms, rumination, and general anxiety tend to drop in the weeks and months after writing about emotional upheavals."

From "Writing to Heal"

By: James W. Pennebaker

Sometimes I doubt myself, and doing the things I love. I love writing my blogs, but I also love bringing happiness. Sometimes the those two don't get along. Internal conflict much? It's really hard. I enjoy my writing. I like to use it as an expressive art, and sometimes when I'm told that this should be hidden from the world I get a little sad inside. I feel myself tumbling in confusion as I'm asked to take responsibility for feelings that aren't under my control. But I slowly try to ground myself in my firm belief that I have conversed with my Heavenly Father, sought his counsel and direction and he has directed me on many occasions to write, express and share.

"When troubles fall within your dish,

And things don't tally with your wish:

It's just as well to laugh as cry--

To sing and joke, as moan and sigh;--

For a pound of sorrow never yet

Cancel'd a single ounce of debt."

From "A Narrative of a Revolutionary Soldier"

By: Joseph Plumb Martin

When I read this quote I really liked it. Which is funny because I can totally see hating it under different circumstances. I just thought it was a good reminder. I'm not one to deny a person their emotions, and getting upset and feeling discouraged are all normal emotions to feel at certain times-- like when someone can't find their lap top that contains 3 weeks of painstakingly completed homework. I think we should feel these emotions, let them wash over us and then release them. I usually ask my Heavenly Father to take them from me. Plus the laughter part reminded me of my dear My Little Pony Pinky Pie, who laughs at the scary things. I've actually found this to be pretty sound advice. 

Run For the Fallen

I'm not the best runner, nor have I ever been. In fact a good part of my life I just tried to accept the idea that running just "wasn't my thing". But then a switch happened. I don't know if it had to do with the people I was now associating with, or if something deep inside me couldn't keep quiet anymore and had to just scream, "I WANT TO RUN!!!" I wanted to run because. . .well. . .I thought I couldn't and if I could. . .well. . .then that would allow me to prove something amazing to myself. Does that make sense?

So I started to run. But I wasn't very good. . .at all. But I hung in there. I even found ways to convince my husband to go with me sometimes.

I started my running ventures by entering a 3K. I ran the whole way. I was so thrilled.

Then off and on I would pick up running again. I had hopes of possibly making it to a marathon or even just a half marathon. But I could never really find time to train. So I've just stuck with my 2 miles.

But this year I found it difficult to run at all. I couldn't find a time to run without feeling like I was cheating my kids of my time. I tried to get them to run with me, but we didn't even make it around the block. I don't like to get up early, but my husband won't run with me so I don't dare to go at night. I tried making quick sprints around the block, but just felt that it did little to help my running skills, so I stopped.

Then March came. My mom mentioned that they were doing a 5K run for Sergeant Wride, the officer who was killed in the line of duty not too long ago. My mom works for the county, so we all felt a little close to the tragedy, and we wanted to help. I told my mom I wanted the info so I could sign up. Then I asked my kids if they wanted to run with me. To my surprise they all said, "Yes!" So I asked my mom, who was just going to donate money, if she wanted to donate money in the name of the kids registrations. She had decided to enter as well, so we split the cost, and started practicing. This was about 3 or 4 days before the race.

I took a day to practice with the kids. It didn't start well. The jogging stroller/bike trailer had a flat wheel. So I walked it to the the gas station to pump it up. The tub had started to pop out of the tread, so I went to pry off the tread to get to the tube. Apparently you need tools to do this-- no wonder it was so hard. I got to the tube, put air in it, put it back on the rim and went to put the tread on. Well, I had put too much air in, so I struggle for a minute to let the air out. I then put it back on, and went to put the tread on, once again tools are needed and once again it was really hard. I finally got it all squared away, and we took off running. It wasn't good. The tire in the front kept vibrating which put a huge strain on my arms. The three kids were so heavy, and I was already worn out. We made it about 8 blocks I stopped at the house and tried having the kids take turns in the stroller. The front tire still vibrated like crazy, and we went about a block and a half before the tire was flat again. So I told the boys that we would just practice without the stroller. I ran up and down my block. The kids quickly lost interest. I told them to just stay at the house then. However, I found that my oldest was still trying to keep up, galoshes and all. He was so sweetly determined to practice hard for this race-- and he was so excited when I bought him tennis shoes to wear the next night. We ran a little more that afternoon, and I ran some that night. All in all, it wasn't looking good for the 5K.

The next day I woke up so sore. The worst was my right knee. It was so stiff, and it made functioning kind of hard. I still practiced with my mom that night, and the next night. But even with new tires, and efforts to go puncture proof, we ended up with another flat. My mom said she didn't think she could do the race. So it looked like I was all on my own. Just me and my boys.

We woke up early for the race, and got everything loaded up. It was freezing! And the race was at Eagle Mountain which means it was freezing + windy beyond belief. Registration was a mess, and we had more mishaps with the strollers and the tires. This time it led to a broken van key. So my husband and my mom headed to fix the van key while I headed up to the start line with the three kids and a stroller. We made it up safely, but then had to scrounge about for missing pieces of the stroller. But, amazingly, we got it all together and got ready to start the race. My kids switched off, and once again my oldest inspired me. He was so determined to run the whole way, and he pushed himself hard. I was so incredibly proud of him! I practically had to beg him to get in the stroller so he could rest, and each time I tried to explain that it wasn't a bad thing and he was doing great. I was so proud of myself too. Even after all the hang ups of practice I managed to jog the whole way, except for stroller switch out's with the kids. It certainly helped that the race was downhill.

Shortly after we hit the half way mark my knee started to act up again. I managed to make it a little further by simply putting pressure in different places. But when I was about a block and half from the finish line it was a total loss. I was determined to run the whole way though, and I limped/jogged the last block or so and across the finish line.

It was freezing, my leg hurt and going up and down hills was pretty much an impossibility, but we did it. I proved something to myself, and the boys proved something to me. We all have what it takes to stick with it. I was so proud of us all!

The kids were a little upset about not actually winning, though I think they were all winners. We managed to get some prizes, but this didn't cheer them all up. Oh well. Hopefully one day they know how incredibly honored I felt to claim them as mine that day. Not that I don't feel honored everyday, but. . .well. . .you know what I mean.

A Quote That Saved My Life

My friend was trying to host a get together so we could all spend time with her before she moved. She asked us to bring a quote or a book to share. I knew exactly what quote I wanted to bring:

"From the first day of our life until the last, we weave a basket out of the knowledge we accumulate and the judgement we make.  Our basket holds and defines all our experiences. It gives us meaning. Because no baskets are meant for the same purpose, shared experiences fit into some while not others. Some baskets are designed too small or woven too tight for some experiences to fit inside. Others are so loosely woven and open that small, precious things fall through. Each basket holds and defines that which it was designed for.

Only the buyer, Jesus Christ, can say with certainty the purpose of any given basket. All baskets are valuable to him."  --Doug Mendenhall "My Peace I Give Unto You"

I even ran to the nearest book store and bought the book, so I could take it with me. Then the party got canceled, which was incredibly depressing to me. I really love this friend and was looking forward to seeing her, and all the other friends I have made in that group. So I took her the side dish I had prepared for the party, and I gave her the book I bought. Before I did though I typed up the quote here so I could always remember it. This has seriously brought me so much peace and given me so much perspective.

My friend has now moved and it makes me sad almost everyday, almost to the point that I can't even think about it. But she's on to teach and inspire another group of people. I guess I can share her with those in Arizona :). 

What Can I Say? I Just Love Music!

I've posted about this song on another blog, but seriously my love for it just simply must exceed one post.

Can I just say I LOVE music! LOVE, LOVE, LOVE IT!!! And lately I have found myself getting a certain kind of high only music can bring. I've been rediscovering my love for all this music that I have always loved, but it lost it's edge for some reason. But now I'm cruising through my playlist like a mad junkie just taking it all in and not being able to get enough.

When did this all happen? That's a good question. I have always been this way, but I let that part of me fade away for a couple of years. It wasn't until recently that this urge started awakening inside of me. I want to say it started when I saw Frozen and heard "Let it Go". But I actually think it started with my dear friend Pinky Pie. When I let myself get way too into My Little Pony. . .and pick a favorite character. . .a favorite character that seemed to model many of my favorites from shows past. . .I think I let a part of myself re-awaken, a part I thought had to die when I became a mom. A part that thought I could maybe pull back out when I had a daughter and I could share my childhood with her. When that didn't happen I was so saddened. I packed myself away in a box of memorabilia that would never be pulled out to decorate a girls room. Well, then I got tired of not having girly things so I just started buying them for myself, and the funny thing is that my boys are loving living my childhood with me, even if it is the girl stuff.

On another note, I'd say a fun and fancy free night of Karaoke with some ward members also helped. I was completely insistent that I would not be singing that night, but the ladies convinced me. I sat there thinking, "You love singing! Why do you always do this? Oh yeah, it's our old friend empathy. Well turn it off and get your butt up there and sing." And you know what? I did. I sang for almost every song. And when it wasn't me turn I found it was kind of hard to sit down and pass the microphone to someone else. Then after a performance of "Defying Gravity" from Wicked I sat down and my friends leaned over and said, "You need to get back into theater." I did it! I still wasn't able to sing on my own two feet-- I had to have someone with me at all times-- but I sang in front of people. I sang a rather difficult song in front of people, and I did it well enough that they complimented me. I actually did it! This was huge! I'm sure this added to my rediscovering my love for music.

But then we run into this song. I love to sing, like I said, and when I hear a song that speaks to my soul I have to sing it with all the passion I can muster. But what if the song is one that can't be sung, like this one. I wish I could play an instrument, or I wish my dancing skills where more perfected so I could express my passion for these songs too. I feel so inhibited. I wish I could honor this piece of music to the best of my abilities. The only option left is to write about it. So here we are.

I hope this song gives you the lift it gave me.

"Let It Go"-- Yes, I Even Had to Write a Blog Post About It

So I wanted to write this post a while ago, and this post from another blog inspired me to finally put one together. I thought this, along with my Pinky Pie posts, might lead some to thinking I'm a delusional crazy person, which may be partly true. The truth was I really emotionally connected to the song, and it was all I could do to keep myself from running to the nearest mountain top and belting it at the top of my lungs, complete with sparkly dress and fancy white hair. Have you ever heard a song that struck you down so deeply it was all your body could do to keep your soul from bursting out. I think this is why I love music. I think this is why I love singing. I just love so passionately conveying something that has so much of me in it I can hardly keep myself from disappearing completely into it. I hadn't loved a song like this for a while, and I consider it an awesome treasure when I discover new music. It's like Christmas Morning for me. And it's even greater when I can sing it fully charged with the emotions that I feel when I hear it, which I'm still working on with this song.

When I first heard this song I wasn't sure if I liked it, but then I found myself unable to stop humming it. Then I went to desperately wanting to sing it but not knowing the words. So I listened to it, and next thing I knew I was hooked. I "let go"-- haha :)-- of my skepticism and bitter self that tries to keep from overly loving, liking and being hopeful and just loved it. And I loved the idea of being so drawn in with the animation that goes along with the song that I struggled not to just act it out in my front room.

Why is this so important that I have to write a whole blog post about it? Well, because I haven't felt like that in such a long time. I used to get lost in Broadway and theater pieces all the time. But one summer working at a professional theater and it all became tainted. I had a really hard time going back to theater I loved. I even still tried to love what I loved about theater, but it was no use. It felt ruined. And then add on my other life experiences and. . .well. . .in all just became more tainted.. Loves stories, loves songs, song interests, you name it.

But on top of all that there's what this song's lyrics meant to me. As I sang the song I realized it had such a deep meaning for me. I had kept myself inside a frozen little shell since I found out about the affair, not knowing if I dared to let myself love or believe in love and happy endings. I didn't want to be bitter, but I was. I could no longer live in reality and still belive that life could be good and happy. I was fully immersed in the reality now, and I no longer dared to believe, or hope, in anything because it just hurt to much when it didn't come true to even somewhat of a degree.

Then there's the song "Let It Go" about how Elsa, the character that sings it, can finally let go and isn't held back by fear anymore. This is what it felt like when I finally realized I could learn to love and trust again if I started with loving and trusting myself and God. When I filed for divorce a huge weight was lifted. I felt happier then I had in years, and working towards a future felt so much more worth it. At first I thought happiness would come from realizing I could find a new love and have a new chance at a love story. But then I learned that it meant I needed to finally love myself, and be there for me. When I learned that I felt I could make things work with my husband. Investing in him was scary, but investing in myself, and God, was do-able. I needed to be strong in order to make our family strong.

Finally writing a post about my experiences was a "Let It Go" moment as well. You're told you would be wiser to keep these things between you and your husband and that sharing them is a betrayal and it is going to put a strain on your marriage. I do believe all of that is true. But if you could see the full on trauma that an affair causes it becomes an unfair thing to ask. It's all very real, and it's very hard to keep it from breaking you. So when I could finally wrote about it I could finally start to heal and "Let It Go". As a small note, I make sure to keep my husband in the loop, and get his approval for all my blog posts before I publish them.

In some sense this can leave me a little in the cold when it comes to friends, family and acquaintances. But I guess I just need to be like Elsa sometimes and say, "The cold never bothered me anyway." Haha! Yeah not entirely true, but I have to keep that risk in mind.

So that's another one of my in depth emotional experiences with an animated feature. I know it seems strange, but I do find myself relating to these things. When I was little I always knew my mom loved Cinderella. I bought her Cinderella stuff, she always watched the movie, she talked about going to see it in the theaters when she was younger, etc. Just recently she was giving me a pep talk about trying to stay happy and she said, "Watch happy movies. I like to watch Cinderella because I just want to be like her. She went through all this horrible stuff and yet she is happy and has no guile. And that is just such a good reminder for me" I really like that. Even though it's a fairytale you can still see that there are things that apply to real life. I think this is how I always viewed fairy tales. I didn't get lost in the fantasy. I related to the themes that applied to my reality. 

Simply Put, Life is Too Complex to Describe Simply

In life I find it becoming extremely difficult to put things into words in a way that both makes sense, and describes my intent and what I am trying to say. Things get lost in translation, fall on deaf ears or I get responses that are almost so off from what I was going for I could swear we were talking in a different languages. This doesn't happen all the time. More often than not I find people in my life understand perfectly what I am saying even when I can't say it perfectly.

But still it's hard to describe my life. It's hard to describe my feelings about my life, and sometimes when I write them out I often feel, "I've done a terrible job of really conveying what I'm thinking and feeling."

Most the time I rehash or re-describe things over and over again trying to find a way to perfectly describe what I mean and how I feel (P.S. Sorry if I have ever done this to you I'm sure it's annoying). And I have to have that description be perfectly understood by all. And it also needs to be said in the most honest and sincere way possible. But that is never going to be possible. No matter how crazy it drives my little obsessively honest personality.

It's hard to explain how I do love my husband, and don't feel unhappy in my marriage. But at the same time I wish I had known more when I got married, and taken more into consideration.

It's hard to explain how(most the time) I see the affair as something that happened to me, not something my husband did to me. I have a way of separating the two in my mind. I survived the affair, and made it through and I want to share my journey with the world. But when I type up a post to proudly show my husband he gets a pained look as he reads about all the stuff I went through. It's hard when the person who is closest to you is also the one that hurt you almost beyond repair. You want to share your story of survival, but yet you still share a bond with the one involved. Letting it be a story of your past that you can openly share becomes sticky, and it seems defy all those rules of marriage that were given to you by friends and family. I don't write these things with an intent to rub it in his face and say, "Look what you did!" I write them because it's a hardship I went through that I feel gives me more depth and character, and I just want to share my experience.  I can separate the two in my head. I speak of anger, frustration and pain and direct it at the affair, but not necessarily my husband. It works in my head, but it doesn't always work when I try to put it in writing or describe it to others.

And it's also hard to describe how I'm grateful for what I learned because of the affair, and for some of the additions it brought to my personality. But I will never be grateful for the affair itself. It was the most awful, lonely, terrible thing I've gone through. And I would gladly take it out of my life story if I could.

And sometimes it's hard to describe my love for my kids, but the hardship of having to raise four boys four and under. Motherhood is one of the greatest things I've ever experienced, but I wish, for the sake of my kids, that I had made the decision to become a mother more maturely. It will never be the perfect time to have kids I know. But, to be honest, I'm absolutely certain I'm making a big mess of the whole thing.

It's hard to describe how I am happy with my life, but that I made some poor decisions that led me to being stuck between a rock and a hard place. . .a very hard place. . .maybe throw another rock in there too. I can't jump up and down for joy and excitement, but I can enjoy the joy and excitement that comes from being a mom and there is even a part of me that can have gratitude for the things I have gone through and learned. What I have learned has allowed me to be more open and empathetic and understanding towards others. Well, I try anyway. I appreciate the relationships my trials have brought into my life.

 It's hard to describe many of the things I experience in my little world. One that has stumped me lately is the question, "Are you OK with your choice to stay?" The question comes in many forms, but it's always a hard one to answer.

It is hard to stay. It's hard to be tormented by my personality everyday. It's hard to keep myself in check. It would be so easy to throw on fancy robes and a crown and walk around with an, "You owe me-- I'm better than you-- Everything you say is wrong and stupid and you should just be grateful I'm still here" sort of air. So hard in fact I get exhausted keeping myself in check. So what do I do? I put myself down: I'm fat and ugly-- I'm hard to live with-- whose to say others wouldn't look at our situation and think, "I can see why it happened"-- I'm too unreasonable, hypocritical and I just wasn't cut out to be a good wife.

The struggle within myself is the hardest to maintain. Am I justified to feel this way? Should I have shared that? Do I really have nothing good to say? Is this something worth being upset about, or am I just being an unreasonable bully?

It's one of the reasons I decided to file for a divorce. I just couldn't be nice anymore. And that was wearing me down just as well as, I'm sure, it was wearing him down.

I know he's a good person. That he does good things and has good qualities. But I can't go and declare on facebook "I have the most amazing husband ever!" I know that nobodies perfect, and we need to over look those flaws, and see the good. I've been taught that. I strive to do that. And that's why it's so hard to find that I'm a person that has a hard time looking for those things, and writing them out.

We've both come a long way. My husband has as well. He has made a lot of changes. He is very attentive. And he has sought forgiveness. Can I give it to him? Have I already? Is this struggle being unforgiving, or is it just part of what is to be expected. I know he doesn't deserve to have this held against him his whole life. What if I'm not strong enough to not hold it against him?

There's a part of me that is looking for more to be angry about. There's a part that wants to be more justified. And I think it's the part of me that is just longing to know if she is worth loving or not. My husband expresses that love for me daily. He compliments me to the highest degree. But even so a part of me will never feel that love completely because of what happened. There are too many "what if's" that come into play.

"Am I OK with my choice to stay?" Yes I am. I make the choice daily to stay. But that also means I struggle with it daily as well. It's hard to explain, and hard to describe. The whole situation is hard, and a little complex. I battle with things, mull over things and come to peace with things numerous times.

The other day while helping a family member they turned to me and gave me a hug and said, "You've been through a lot. I don't know if I could have survived it." Sometimes I just need that little reassurance. I'm working hard to try and keep my pride at bay. I'm working hard to make sure I don't get to thinking, "I'm so much better," or anything along those lines. Sometimes I just need that little encouragement from the outside to give the me on the inside some relief.

It's funny how simple life seems at first. You get these simple rules to live by. You take these simple things to help you get through life. But then things get complex. Life throws you a curve ball. And while your trying to recover you realize simpleness doesn't always work. There is always an exception. And you'll probably be lucky enough to find it. And then you'll write entire blog posts trying to describe it.