I Am Not Unbreakable

When I was fourteen, I went to a church camp called Especially For Youth. It was one of the best weeks of my entire teenage life and I owe that mainly to one person in particular.

Her name was Jalene and she was my camp counselor.

Jalene was one of those people who could make you feel special no matter what. And being a needy, awkward teenager, I gravitated to her from day one. I'm sure it was annoying to her but she never made me feel that way.


About halfway through that week at church camp, she shared a scripture with us during one of our devotionals and that scripture quickly became my favorite; partly because it really did speak to me and partly because it came from my new idol.

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1 Corinthians 10:13

There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.

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To this day, whenever that scripture is referred to, I am transported back to being an awkward teenager who felt unloved and unimportant and I am reminded of what that scripture did for my soul.

It gave me hope. 

It gave me hope because I was a teenager who hated my body and wondered if my life really had meaning. I was angry that my life felt hard and I compared the lives of my friends and wondered why I was feeling so devastated about the life God had picked for me.

I figured this scripture was God's way of saying, "I've pushed you to your breaking point and your future does not hold difficult trials." 

it'skindafunnytomenow

Because surely, a God who wouldn't give me more than I could handle would never let me struggle with a miscarriage or infertility or divorce or addiction or betrayal. All of those things would be too much and God would know it.

I didn't have enough faith in myself that I would be strong enough to handle anything harder than my teenage break-ups and constant fights with my family and eating disorder battle. And based on that reasoning, I assumed I would escape those "big" trials that I had watched other people enduring.

Because the way that I interpreted that scripture was pretty black and white. "I can't handle that so He won't allow me to go through that." Simple.


In the midst of divorce, I remember revisiting that scripture and hating everything about it. It was now a liar. I was a single mom and I was broken. Completely broken.

How could I have been so stupid? God couldn't make someone choose to stay married to me. I was so angry at myself for having false hope in that scripture.

And while trying to put my pieces back together from divorce, I experienced another traumatic event that hurt my children and myself. And although I thought I couldn't break any more, I did. Pieces of my heart that I had put back together shattered to an even greater degree.

Somewhere in the middle of this, I stopped trusting God. I didn't lose faith in His existence---I just stopped believing what I had trusted in that scripture. And in the midst of the darkest times, my only thoughts sounded like this: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?! I thought God wouldn't let me break! 

But God did NOT stop me from breaking. 

And I shouldn't have expected Him to. 

When I read that scripture at age 14, I interpreted it to fit my anxious mind. If God wouldn't tempt me above what I was able to endure, He would know I'm definitely not strong enough to endure "x, y, and z".

But there was a key piece of that scripture that I was looking past. The very last part of that scripture states "that ye may be able to bear it". And if the scripture ends with that phrase, doesn't that mean none of us are actually exempt from pain and suffering in this life? Why would God tell us we would be able to bear hard things if He was going to shield us from all of the hard things?

So it finally clicked. And I didn't really like that it clicked. Because that meant I wasn't exempt and that I had no right to be angry at God and that I was, in fact, capable of breaking.

God would let me break. 

But as promised, He would provide a way for me to put my shattered pieces back together. He would help me escape the very depths of Hell if I would reach my hand out and hold onto His.

And as I put those pieces back together, differently each time, He shows me where certain pieces belong in my ever-growing soul. He heals me, not by erasing the pain but by strengthening the shattered pieces so that in the end, I am a better person.

When God promises us that we are stronger than our temptations, He is quick to add that WITH HIM we can handle them.

It isn't that God won't let us break. It isn't that we will never experience temptations that we fully believe are out of our control.
The truth is that God meets us in those dark alleys and says, "Follow me", and when we do, we realize we can bear ANYTHING with Him by our side.

I no longer believe I am exempt from trials just because I may not be able to handle them. 

Instead, I try my best to trust in God so that when I break, I can allow Him to help me put myself back together again.

It doesn't always happen easily. There is still some small part of me that feels anger toward God when I'm faced with something difficult. And ironically, that is because I have faith that He can heal me. It isn't because I doubt Him. It is because I'm over here having panic attacks and thinking, "I know You have the power to heal me so why is this still happening?"

Although it seems like a negative thing, to talk about how I am NOT unbreakable, it helps me. Knowing that I can break reminds me that it is ok to feel the way I need to feel and grieve the way I need to grieve. It reminds me that this type of break isn't permanent but that my timeline doesn't have to be rushed.

It's ok to break. 

Everyone does. 

And everyone has the capability of putting those pieces back together, to create a whole new masterpiece.

I love my breakable life. I hate anxiety but I love my life.

And I think what I love the most is that it's possible to love life, even when the sun is hiding behind the dark clouds and the rain seems never-ending.

In the middle of this struggle where my anxiety is almost always overactive in my brain, I still have some of the most beautiful days and I'm still capable of making really amazing and brave choices.

Anxiety doesn't ruin my life. It can't---because I won't let it.

This week has been full of choices that have left me in awe of my own strength. I got to start observing at my old high school on Thursday.
On Friday, I got to teach my very first 15-minute lesson (planned all by myself) to a classroom of 10th graders and I wasn't even a little bit anxious. It went really well and I found myself excited, knowing that I will soon have that as my every day career.
On top of that, I am one month into my teaching certificate and decided to take FIVE classes---all of which I currently have 100% in.
My house is NOT a disaster and I've already done all laundry from our vacation last week.
Anxiety hits my eating habits hard but I've chosen healthier options multiple times in the past two weeks (sounds like baby steps, feels like giant steps).
I've gotten multiple calls (no placements yet) for foster care and I'm just chillin' over here like, "Bring. It. On." Because if I didn't think it was the right thing to do in the midst of all this crazy, I wouldn't be doing it.

I love the life I'm living. It gets lonely, sure. But it's pretty darn great.

And I am grateful that God allows me to break so that I recognize just how strong I am with Him by my side.

She Swears

Swear words. 

You either love them or you hate them, amiright? 

In high school, I used swear words in every day conversation. They felt so powerful---probably for reasons relating to my last post on being stubborn and wanting to go against the grain.

But then I got married...in the LDS temple...to a guy who had just come home from a 2 year LDS mission...and I quickly had babies...and somewhere along the way, my mouth cleaned up considerably.

When my kids were really little, I found myself reprimanding them for words like 'butt' or 'stupid'---maybe because it just seemed like the right mom-thing to do.

But I didn't really care---I just thought I should care. Because that's what the good moms do, right?

And then, you guys, I got divorced. 

*huge gasp*

You didn't see that one coming, did you? 

Technically, neither did I...Ha...ha...ha......................................ha. 

So my husband moved out. Just, like, left one day. Goodbye. See ya.
Yeah. That happened for real. 
It wasn't a dream. It wasn't something I made up. It just happened on a seemingly normal day.

And right then and there, my whole world changed---not only because of the obvious reasons but because I realized just how quickly you can go from trusting someone to losing a huge portion of the life you thought you'd always have.

I realized nothing is predictable. You cannot rely on others. 
You just cannot. 

You might think you can. They might promise they'll always be there. But then one day, you'll make a mistake or they'll blame you for things out of your control and they'll leave.

They always have the option to leave. 

{I know---super negative tonight...}

But it's the damn truth! You cannot force people to stay. 

Like last year, during a time when I was working a job that I loved and all of a sudden, my boss started to dislike me. And I had not done anything to warrant that. Like at all. But I ended up quitting and walking away because you just don't know when people will turn on you and you've got to learn to fight for YOU and not stay in an unhealthy relationship of any kind. (Life lessons I've learned along the way...)

Even in an unhealthy relationship because you love your job.
Nope.
Nothing is worth that kind of anxiety.

So back to the point---wait, is there a point? 

Oh yeah, I got divorced. People that promised to always be there deserted me. Blah blah blah.

So somewhere in the middle of all this, I was in a therapy session (because therapy is the best invention in the history of ever---and so are anxiety meds, yo) and I kept saying things like, "I'm just so effing angry" and "All of the effing things in my life that are stressing me out" and "Divorce is so effing hard" and my therapist said,

"Suzanne, do you ever actually say the F word?" 

And Mormon little me was like, "Umm, no, because that is the worst word in the whole world and I would never let that gaping black hole of death come out of my mouth. Ever."

And she said, "Maybe you should try it." 

And, you guys, if you're paying someone to give you advice, you should probably take their advice, right?

So if my mom reads this and is gasping that the black hole of death came out of my mouth, my therapist told me to do it...

Needless to say, I went home that night and I wrote a letter to my ex-husband. A three-page letter of mostly F bombs and other profanities. And then I ripped it out of my journal, crumpled it into a ball, took it out onto the back porch, and set it on fire until only a few tiny ashes were left.

And I realized that the ugliest of words was being used to describe the ugliest of things in my life perfectly.

That ugly four-letter word was the most appropriate word in describing how I felt about divorce, losing friendships, being cyber-bullied, and dealing with so many other really difficult things.

Maybe swear words are just words. Maybe the power of them is something I've made up in my head.

But they help. They describe the feelings I often have a difficult time describing.

Sometimes Most of the time, they make me laugh.
Sometimes they make me cry.

But I'm pretty sure swear words were put on this Earth just for me. 

That's a rational thought, right? 

I no longer feel bad for swearing. 
In fact, I'm pretty sure if I didn't swear, I'd be darn near perfection so swearing keeps me humble and puts a healthy dose of sin on my record.
Because that's how that works, right? 

So when things get hard and I get angry at the world, instead of lashing out at others, I'll just keep writing down my swear words and burning them up. And saying them out loud. And writing them down without burning them up. And texting them to my friends. And yelling them in my car.

Because I can, damnit. 

And swearing is my therapy. 

I'm Ignoring You

I imagine I was stubborn, even as a baby. I think I've just always been that way. 

In fact, for most of my life, my opinions often take their own course instead of following a particular crowd.

Like how I registered as a Republican when I turned 18 but I'm not really, truly a Republican or a Democrat. 

A lot of my stubbornness has been good---making it so I don't often quit the things I'm passionate about---but being stubborn has also held me back at times.

Being stubborn caused me not to be the best wife I was capable of being. There were times I would stand my ground and yell until I was blue in the face that I was right(!) but there were also times where being stubborn caused me to fight harder to save my marriage. {Although we've witnessed how well that worked out. Just kidding...kind of.} 

Being stubborn causes me to not always be the best mom I know I can be. There have been times where I am absolutely out of line when reprimanding my kids but being stubborn has also caused me to fight as hard as I can to give my kids a beautiful life.

It's a quality I love and a quality I hate. 

Being stubborn brought a tattoo and a lot of extra piercings, some of them as a direct result of knowing I was being told NOT to get them.

And being stubborn made it so that no one could convince me NOT to leave the LDS church in 2015.

No one. 

And really, that's going to be my main topic today because it's been on my mind a lot and that's kind of how this whole blog thing works.

When I left the LDS church and started attending a Christian church, everyone had opinions.
They always do. 
So depending on who I was talking to, I was either making the greatest or the worst decision of my life.

I distinctly remember feeling like my head was spinning because I hated how contrasting everyone's opinions were.
And I distinctly remember when the thought came into my mind, "Suzanne, you're stubborn! Stop listening to everyone else and start listening to yourself!" 

And so that is what I promised myself I would do. 

I spent a lot of the past 2 years ignoring people---all of the people.
In fact, you were probably ignored by me somewhere in there. 
I think the hashtag #sorrynotsorry would be appropriate right here. 

That being said, I'm kind of still ignoring you. All of you.
Because that promise to myself is still true today.

I made a decision to go back to the LDS church on my own. It wasn't because of something someone said to me. It wasn't because I like Mormon people more than I like Christian people. It wasn't because I was running away from something bad or running back to something familiar.

I came back because I had a conversation with God. It's pretty simple. 

And since coming back, the same things have been happening that were happening a year ago. Some of you are telling me I'm making the best decision of my life while others have reached out because they are worried about my salvation.

And just as true as it was a year ago, I find myself hearing what you're saying and thinking, "Wow. It's incredible how many people love and care about my family!"

But simply put, I'm still going to ignore what you're saying. 

Because I know---undoubtedly I know---that I am in the best place at the best time for my family.

I left the LDS church because I felt God closer somewhere else. And now, I can sit here today and tell you that since returning to the LDS church, I feel God closer to me now more than I have in the past 29 years of my life.

I appreciate your concerns and your praise---you know, depending on which side you're on.
I love knowing how loved we are by you. 

But this decision has not ruined my salvation.
This decision is what is saving me. 

On the days where I feel bombarded by people telling me I'm headed down Satan's path, I get a little discouraged and just wish we could all build each other up instead of pointing fingers and telling each other what we are doing wrong.

But then I try and remind myself that each of you are following a path you wholeheartedly believe in. You have faith in your God and in your church beliefs. And you are all trying to help.

But I guess I just want you to know that you don't have to tell me that I'm right or that I'm wrong.

Because I know I'm doing the right thing. And my right thing doesn't have to match your right thing.

My right thing is only mine. 

So thank you for loving me. Thank you for caring about what happens to myself and my family. Thank you for sharing your faith in God with me.

But I'll take it from here. 
I've got this. :) 

I Hear You, I See You, I Love You

It's no secret that I've been struggling lately. 

I've never been able to keep secrets very well anyway. 

I've had a week to think about what I want to say in this post and how I want it to be portrayed---a week where every night, I cry myself to sleep and tears stream down my face at work and the anxiety is a knot in my throat. 

I haven't been eating well. I feel nauseous a lot of the time and can't get through full meals. And when I don't feel nauseous, I eat all of the things at once. 

Why?

Because life is hard. 

Because life doesn't always turn out how we plan it in our head. 

Because life seems so unfair sometimes. 

Last week, I was given the news that I'd have to write a letter to the First Presidency of our church, telling my point of view of my marriage, divorce, and life since then. 

THIS is a semi-outdated-but-best-I-could-do-for-tonight explanation of why I was asked to write my letter. 

Yeah.

It's been a long time since I've had a panic attack so great I thought I might not be able to physically take another breath. 

The heartache I've been dealing with since that day has surprised me. I don't know what I was expecting but I surely did not expect to feel this way. 

But instead of just focusing on my pain, I wanted to turn this story in a different direction. 

You see, for weeks I've been asking for understanding and faith and peace. And...nothing. 

And then on Sunday, I got this news and was like, "You've got to be kidding me, God! I've been praying and trying so hard to trust you and without a significant answer to my prayers, I get this phone call?! You knew this was about to happen so why didn't You send me comfort yesterday so I would've been better equipped to deal with this?" 

And...God did not answer. 

So all night on Sunday, I was a crying, shaking mess. 

I asked my dad for a Priesthood blessing and went home to get rest before work the next day. 

And when I woke up, it started. 

It started with a text early Monday morning from my foster care intake coordinator. "Your license was approved!" 

An early Monday morning reminder that God is aware of me. I have been working for six months to do everything required to get my foster care license. It has not always been easy. I have been frustrated at times. I have done hours of interviews and classes, organized and baby-proofed my home, etc. in anticipation for this and after a hard night, God knew I needed to hear that in that exact moment. 

Suzanne, I hear you. I see you. And I love you. 

On Tuesday, I decided to tour daycare centers because I had the afternoon free and knew I'd need to get things in order. I was worried I wouldn't find a center that would be DCS approved and have an opening. 

I got to the first center for a tour and within ten minutes, found out it met all of my requirements and had openings right away. I immediately felt peace. 

I hear you. I see you. And I love you. 

Wednesday, I decided to spend my evening at the Gilbert temple. I spent 3.5 hours crying and praying and reading scriptures and as I asked God to help me through this and bring me clarity, He did. 

He reminded me that He knows the plans of my life and can see the bigger picture. He reminded me that I need to have faith in Him and trust that He will carry me through my heartache. 

I hear you. I see you. And I love you. 

On Thursday, my mother came over after work. She brought me a home cooked meal and helped clean my house for two hours. We spent that time talking and/or blasting music while we worked to get my house in order before the kids came home from their dad's house. 

I hear you. I see you. And I love you. 

Friday, I had to drive to Tucson to pick up my daughter because she had dance pictures that evening. Although I've taken that drive many times in the past 5-6 years, I was not looking forward to doing it alone and also spending my one day off in the car. 

Out of the blue, a close friend of mine found out I would be taking that drive and offered to ride with me so I wouldn't be alone. 

She turned what could've been a hard afternoon into a really fun memory. 

I hear you. I see you. And I love you. 

Saturday came and I had experienced a week of miracles. I tried so hard to recognize the many beautiful events from the week to counteract how my heart was feeling but there was still so much weighing on my chest and I prayed for guidance to get through another day. 

Hayley had been begging to go out to breakfast so I took her to IHOP. 

And an hour later, I posted this on Facebook: 

"My precious girl and I went to breakfast this morning and after sitting down, a lady was seated at the table right next to us. She was by herself and kept looking over and smiling at us. 

When our food came, I began to cut up Hayley's pancakes when the lady leaned over and said to her, "You must have the best mom in the whole world. Never forget how amazing she is." She then told me she had a daughter who is now 49 and lives all the way in Baltimore.

She told us her name is Mary and we gave her our names. Throughout the meal, we would have little conversations but mostly, she seemed to just be observing my relationship with my daughter and smiling at us.

When we went up front to pay for our food, Mary had already left but waiting for us was the news that she had paid for our food and left us a sweet note on the receipt.

"Thank you for sharing your mother day and daughter day with me. Mary."

As I sat in that restaurant and began to cry, it hit me so hard how much God is aware of us.
Mary doesn't know I'm a single mother of two. She doesn't know how difficult this week has been for me. She doesn't know my anxieties and insecurities and how much I pray to not feel so lonely. But God knows. And today, Mary listened to that prompting and was able to be our angel, to remind us how loved we are.

So thank you, Mary. You have made such a difference in my life with your kindness." 

Saturday was my long-awaited turning point. It was the day I could no longer excuse the hand of God in every measure of my life throughout the week. It was the day I came home and just wept that He had shown me grace in such a significant way. 

Although I've asked him to take away my heartache and He hasn't, God has shown me that His love is neverending and that I just need to keep my focus on Him and not on the millions of outside worries I have. 

This week has been incredible in so many ways. 

In fact, it's kind of an odd feeling because I feel like I'm still fighting to remember God and not go to a very dark place while at the same time, I feel like I've recognized God more than ever before in my life. 

The miracles I've witnessed have not completely dissipated the anxiety or the heartache or even the anger I've been struggling with. But they have made it so I don't stay down for as long as I normally would. 

I feel like I'm screaming like a five year old, "IT'S NOT FAIR!!!" And then I hear my dad's voice saying, "Well, life isn't fair, Suzanne." 

(Solid parenting advice---I use those same words on my kids almost daily)

I've been trying to catch myself as I start to fall into that pit of "It's not fair" or "I'm doing the job of two and am all alone at the end of the day" or "I didn't do anything to deserve this and now I'm the one suffering" and bring myself out because what I've found is that at the bottom of that pit is nothing but misery. 

And when I'm able to pull myself out of that pit, I find a much brighter world filled with thoughts like "I have almost put myself through school as a single mother" or "My children are doing such amazing things in their lives" or "I am HAPPY and ACTIVE at church these days" or "I have so many people in my life who love me" or "I get to be with my kids so much of the time right now" or a million other positive thoughts about how my life is so blessed and I am so loved and God is so good. 

My days are so up and down right now but I am trying. 

I am fighting and learning and trying so hard to be the best possible me when I walk out the door each day. 

And I think that's what matters most, especially right now. I think it's ok to not be overly peppy or serving others or smiling like I might do on a more normal basis. 

I'm doing the best I can right now. 

God knows it and I know it. 

And for me, in this moment, that is the biggest miracle of all. 

PS: If you're wondering about my encounter with our angel, Mary, our story has been shared  over 1000 times and has been liked over 23 thousand times on the Love What Matters Facebook page and has now been written in 6-7 articles that I've found when I google myself. It certainly has been a whirlwind of a week and I feel very blessed to witness all of these miracles firsthand. 

Here are a few of the articles:

Refinery 29

Babble

Huffington Post UK