Me Too

You can tell her eyes are blue, even in a black and white picture.

But can you see her kindness? Her intelligence? Her compassion for others?

No. Because those are not things you can tell just by staring at her face. Those are things that come from within her soul.

She is my world and I plan on teaching her all of the beauty and heartache she may experience, being born a female in this world.

I worry about her because she will not grow up in the same world I did.

She will grow up in a world more perverted with sex and pornography being normalized.

And so I will start younger than my mother had to with me. I will make sure she knows that her worth is not based upon a number on a scale or a bra size or the shape of her face or the color of her eyes.

Because what I want more than anything is for her experiences to be different than mine, better than mine. I want her to have the self-esteem to say no and the knowledge to keep herself safe.

But it's sad that I even have to teach her these things. It's sad that we have to worry about safety and that we have to teach self-worth over and over again and hope it sticks.

***
Me too.
***

These are words you've most likely seen.

They've been on your Facebook news feed or you've seen them in articles recently.

After reading why my friends were posting this as their status, I knew I needed to join their voices.

I posted the status that I did for so many reasons. 

In high school, I had pretty low self-esteem. Attention from boys was my number one concern. And because of this, for the first three years of high school, I didn't say no when I felt uncomfortable. Luckily for me, the situations this placed me in were not as bad as they could've been but that doesn't mean they were non-existent.

And as a senior in high school, as my self-esteem started to rise a little, I said no for the first time that I can distinctly remember.  

I was sitting alone in a basement with a guy who I thought was my close friend. After a few minutes of talking, he leaned in and tried to kiss me but I pulled away and laughed a little. And then he tried it again {because that's apparently normal?!} and I verbally said, "No." but in a really kind voice. AND WHEN HE TRIED A THIRD TIME, I got pretty angry and fiery and I shoved him away and yelled, "No!" in his face, before running upstairs to be with the rest of our friends.

This rocked me for a while because I didn't understand why my polite "no" had been ignored. I didn't understand why it took me yelling at him and physically moving him for him to stop trying.

He was my friend. And I had trusted him before that moment.

And he betrayed that trust.

As an adult, I am so proud of 18-year-old Suzanne for shoving him away. I hope he learned as much from that experience as I did.

Sadly, what I learned is that I'm not always heard. I learned that sometimes the giggly "no" registers to the other person as "Not unless you work a little harder for it".

I didn't want him to work harder. I wanted him to stop. And he misread that---except it shouldn't have been misread. 

Because I used the word NO.

This was not the first time and it wouldn't be the last. But it was the most significant one in my memory.

Aside from this experience, I can remember a time in my life when I used to walk the 2-3 miles it took to get to work because I wanted to save money and get some exercise for my upcoming wedding. I remember how often a car would drive by and men would whistle in my direction or try to talk to me and I would ignore them.

I stopped walking because of how uncomfortable it made me.

They were never men my age. Always, always older. And I hated it so much that older men would find that appropriate or funny.

Because it wasn't.

So the "me too" campaign is personal. And I think it's something the majority of us can relate to.

We all want to be seen for more than what is on the outside.

I guess my hope is that we change.
My hope is that we continue to take a stand and say, "That's not right!" when we are put in positions that are uncomfortable and inappropriate.

Because I want better for the world my children are growing up in.

Christmas After Divorce

Christmas has always been my very favorite holiday---second only to my own birthday and my children's birthdays.

I love giving gifts.
I love how the world just seems brighter in December.
I love how religion gets simpler and the majority of religions focus on the same thing---the birth of our Savior.

It's a beautiful time of year.

But then you throw divorce into the equation and some of the Christmastime beauty is tarnished.

It just is.

Because after divorce, you have to give up part of your holiday time with your own children.

And that is the worst feeling.

I used to have this irrational picture in my head of us still spending Christmases together to give ourselves and our kids a sense of normalcy. But that wasn't well received and then I felt crazy for even bringing it up.

And it doesn't matter how many Christmases pass---I don't think I'll ever get used to it.
Maybe it'll be easier if I ever remarry and am not completely alone.
Or maybe when my kids get older, it'll be easier.

But because I have two littles who still believe in Santa and the magic of Christmas, it's hard to give them up.


A few days ago, I found out I won't get to see my kids on Christmas. And I found out there was nothing I could do about that decision.

And I'm a little angry but mostly heartbroken because I didn't have time to prepare myself for that. Three weeks isn't long enough---I swear, it isn't---to let it sink in that I won't be with the babies on December 25th, 2017.

And really, that just comes as one last punch in the stomach for a year that I have found to be incredibly difficult.

I'm trying to let it go. 

I'm trying to remember that the 25th of December is just a day and that we can make any other day of the year as magical as that day.

I'm trying not to be bitter. About divorce. About the events of this year regarding divorce.

But that is proving to be extremely difficult. 


Divorce {with kids} is truly the worst. It bleeds into everything. It makes easy decisions harder. And it makes harder decisions nearly impossible.


But I've made it through four years of harder Christmases and I don't plan on giving up now.

Rise Above It

I realize I'm guilty of not rising above certain conflicts in my life.

When I think about that word that I picked for 2017, I imagine the definition to be something similar to "being the bigger person" or "letting go of pride" or "rising above fears".

And I have wholeheartedly tried to implement that word into my life this year. 

'Tried' being the keyword. 

Let's get real here---we can all be really stupid sometimes. Really. Stupid.
And it's HARD to "be the bigger person" when someone is acting like an idiot.

Every bone in my body consists of sarcasm sprinkled with a hint of impatience. iknowright?

And I've let my impatience get the best of me many times. I've taken my sarcasm way too far.
But the worst one---the one I'm trying so hard to fix---is letting my fears dictate whether I will rise above a situation.

This one seems to be the least controllable, although it is absolutely still possible to control.

Maybe it's my anxiety or maybe it's just my hyper-sensitivity to controlling my own path but when fear gets involved, I am not always the nicest person. On the inside, I start to panic and it portrays on the outside as impatience and intolerance.

I'm not proud of this.

But it still happens sometimes.

I've been feeling a lot of this lately while dealing with some stuff. You know, that annoying type of stuff that may cause someone to shut down their blog for five months out of fear. The type of stuff you're not ready to post about because you're still in the thick of it and you don't want to end up making the situation worse.

That kind of stuff. theworstkindofstuff 

FEAR is the absolute worst. And it can be debilitating at times.

I am SO MUCH  a planner. Our schedule is wild and crazy but it is organized. I thrive on our crazy, busy life.

So when I don't know what the future holds and I can't even see a glimpse, I start to let fear control the way that I react.

And ironically /exceptnotsoironically/ this does not help.

It just does not help!

Reacting in a negative way does not change the things happening. It just makes the build up feel worse, which in turn makes the actual reaction feel worse.

So letting fear win actually makes things worse.


Rise. Above.

I'm glad I chose the specific word RISE for 2017.

Because it turns out that RISE was the exact thing I needed to learn.

I've had moments this year where I thought I'd be better off abandoning the whole church thing all together because I was letting fear control me.

I've had moments where I almost didn't choose bravery---new job, divorce stuff, dating---because I was listening to my fears.

But for the most part this year, although it has not been easy, I have risen.

And I didn't abandon everything and run away like I've wanted to.

Five months ago, I faced one of the scariest days of this year and I so badly wanted to give up.

But I faced my fears head on and I'm trying to practice kindness instead of continuing to let those fears consume me.

Lately it seems to be working. A few times over the past five months, it did NOT work.


But I'll get up and keep trying.

Because that is the true definition of rising.


Rising does not mean being perfect and getting it right the first time. To me, it means getting up over and over again after failing and never giving up.

So that's the plan for the rest of the year and leading into 2018.
And I guess it should be the plan for the rest of my life. 

Rise. 

Wildfire

Lost.
Wounded.
Still breathing.

Surrounded by a dark forest of trees that all look exactly the same.
Rain drenches her hair and she can no longer decipher between the raindrops and the tears on her cheeks.

To her right, she sees flames.
To her left, she sees a tornado.

Which path does she choose?
Because right now, both look scary and painful and possibly deathly.

She screams toward the Heavens and asks God why He has left her to forge her own path.

She doesn't want to do it. 

She doesn't want to be bruised and scarred. She wants to stay whole.

But God tells her she will learn more about herself this way, that she will grow to understand the world more in depth and be filled with an empathy for others that she could've never known any other way.

He promises her He won't leave. 

But she isn't sure she can trust anyone, even the God who created her and knows her entire path.

Because if God was just, would He really tell her to choose between a tornado and a wildfire? Wouldn't He find another way to open her eyes to empathy and understanding? Wouldn't He shield her from pain?

It is at this moment when she remembers God was not responsible for placing her between a wildfire and a tornado. He did not bring her here. 

She is here through the choices of herself and others in her life.

Opposition in all things.

She is here because God gave His children the ability to make choices, right or wrong. Because He knew that forcing His children to follow a specific path would not teach them that they are capable of making those choices on their own.

And then she understands why He has promised her a deeper understanding in the midst of her pain.
Because her pain will teach her. She will learn how to love deeper.

Without knowing pain, she won't truly know the deepest joy.

But although she understands, she is so very scared.

She is afraid of what will happen in the midst of a fire. She is afraid she may not make it out alive.
And she is afraid that if she does make it out alive, no one will want to be around her because she will be broken.

Broken.

Do people ever fully come back from being broken? 

She steps toward the wildfire, knowing she is about to be burned but seeing no other options.

Her eyes dart left and right, looking for the best path, and they lock on a person caught in the worst part of the fire.

Does she save them and hurt herself more? Or does she take the path less painful?

She knows the answer. God has taught her the answer. 

And so she runs straight into the middle of the wildfire and begins to pull the other woman to safety on the other side.

The fire sears her skin and she screams out in pain. It is in the middle of this fire that she feels her deepest pains immensely.

She feels all of the pain from divorce and custody battles and believing she will never be loved by a man again. She remembers the friends who betrayed her and the ones who just silently left unexpectedly. She feels all of the times she has felt fat and ugly and stupid and annoying.

And she considers giving up. 

But she keeps going because she believes there is still life on the other side. 

When they finally make it to the other side, she looks to the woman and realizes this woman is now holding her.

And she realizes that although God did not stop the pain, He placed them there together to ease the burden of going through this alone.

Their pain was different but it didn't matter. 

Whether for today or for the rest of their lives, they belonged to each other. 

Because although hurt people have the potential to hurt other people, they also have the potential to help other people. 

And in the midst of this excruciating pain, they had chosen to help each other.

It isn't over.
It may never be fully over.

But as the days pass, her wounds begin to heal. 

And although she looks over the horizon and sees many mountains ahead, she knows she can move them. She knows that God will not leave her in the middle of a storm, even when she tries to convince herself that He does.

She knows she can keep going. And that along the way, she will find others to help. And in return, she will find them carrying her when she needs to be carried.

Because she understands that everyone has pain. 

Everyone needs someone. 

And we belong to each other. 

Hello.

I went private for five months. 

Someday I might tell you why. 

But today is not that day. 

I miss it here.

I miss the familiarity of writing my thoughts here. 

And today I decided that I am not going to let my fears dictate what I want to do.

And so I will write. 

My anxiety has been rocky the past 4-5 months but I am starting to feel like myself again.
In the midst of my anxiety issues, I did something amazingly brave and applied for a second job so now I'm teaching dance again. I had taken a year off purposefully and when that year mark hit, I saw an opening and prayed about it.
Oh. My. Gosh. I prayed about it. 
Because I didn't want to put more stress on our family. 
But it worked out beautifully and I started teaching two weeks before Yaya left our home.

My anxiety tells me that I'll eventually do something to screw this up. It always tells me that. But I'm learning to ignore those thoughts because a past bad experience does not dictate a future experience.

And sometimes future experiences end up being really beautiful so it would be a shame to cower down just because of the past. {lifelessonnumberthreethousandandtwentytwo} 

I also turned the big 3-0. And the next day, I gave a talk in church for the first time in ten years. As intimidating as that was, it ended up being a really great experience. (refer to the above life lesson)


Hayley is still dancing and is growing up before my eyes. She moved up to company in June and now dances/competes a lot more. I keep expecting her to get tired of dancing because she still seems so young but day in and day out, she tells me she is never quitting dance. Her transition to the new school was actually very smooth and she has made a few new friends and is loving 4th grade.

Andersen just turned 8 and is currently in the middle of his soccer season. He says he is going to join hip hop in January because, in his words, "I'm just so good at it and I think the studio needs me". He was baptized last weekend and in true Andersen fashion, stood up on the pew and started doing the chicken dance for the entire congregation.


If it hasn't ever been clear before, I truly love my kids. Being a mom is the best thing I've ever done. And although I sometimes feel as though I'm failing my children, lately I've been feeling like I'm killin' it at this mom gig.

I've been feeling more like my old self. Pre-2013 Suzanne. Pre-divorce Suzanne. Pre-anxiety disorder Suzanne.
I haven't decorated for holidays in a few years {except for Christmas} until this year. I haven't home-made Halloween costumes in a few years until this year. I have had zero desire to cook meals for our family until this year.

I am not whole but I am definitely getting there. 

So welcome back inside a glimpse of my world, friends.
I missed it here. 

September

I feel lost inside a forest, thick with trees. I can't see which direction I should be going but all around me, I heard taunting and laughing.

You can't do this. 
You will never make it. 
You are a horrible person for trying. 
And you will not win this battle. 
You cannot control this outcome. 

And in a way, those voices are right.

I cannot control this outcome. 

I don't get to make decisions based on what is best for my family. I have to fight for those decisions. I have to be brave and get out of bed on the days where my anxiety feels as though it is strangling me.

And maybe I look like a horrible person for trying to fight for my family.

Divorce has a way of doing that. 

It takes something done out of love and twists it into an ugly battle of "who will win" and not "what is best for the children".

I hate that about divorce. I hate that the easy decisions are made into difficult decisions.

Because...pride. 

And because when we haven't truly forgiven our ex-spouse and/or moved on and healed, trying to hurt them seems like second nature.

Divorce hasn't cleared away all of the beauty but it certainly has blackened a lot of things that used to be full of color.

Things as simple as birthday parties, work events, dance rehearsals, soccer games, vacations, school breaks, etc. are no longer easy. Because depending on the weekend they fall, the children might miss out on certain events. And even if they don't miss out, it takes extra scheduling and compromising to try and get everything to work out.

I was told this past weekend that my children are doing "family costumes" for Halloween this year---except that I am not a part of it.
They are participating in something labeled "family" that I am not also participating in.

I cried myself to sleep when they told me this. 
Because it is hard. So, so hard. 

Because when they go to their dad's house, they look like a more complete family.

And it just feels like a punch in my stomach. 

I've worked so hard to move on from my divorce. I thought it would all be uphill from here. (ha!) 

But then I felt like a bomb was dropped on me when my ex-husband told me he was remarrying. And maybe their marriage wouldn't be so hard for me if it hadn't come with such a huge onset of changes---filing for a new custody arrangement to include his new wife, my kids getting used to living with another adult, becoming extremely protective of her disciplining them, the Halloween costumes, requesting to change how we do holidays, etc.

It. Is. Too. Much. 

And I wish that my feelings and my children's feelings were factored into all of this but they aren't.

I feel like I'm trying to grasp this possible new reality and I don't know how to handle it. I don't know how to NOT lose my mind. I don't know how to let go a little bit and let someone new be a parent to my children.

I envisioned this all much differently than it has happened. I planned on having a good relationship with my children's step-mom. It looked so different in my mind.

It looked a lot easier in my mind. 

But the past four months have been anything BUT easy.
I spend a lot of nights crying. I have closed myself off. When I try and calendar our kids' schedules and the immediate response is, "Let me check with Jess and see if that works for us", my heart stings with an ache that is so hard to explain.

Us.

That used to have a different meaning.

I used to be included in 'us'. 

And now I feel like they are building a family without me. I feel left out and hurt. I feel like my feelings aren't taken into consideration.

If only I could cry out and say, "I am not trying to be a crazy ex-wife! I just want what is best for our kids. If you could just take a second and look at it from my point of view. I carried these children and birthed them and got up in the middle of the night with them. I took them to their first activities and play dates. I stayed home with them for years. I was there to explain divorce to them. I let them scream at me when they didn't understand it all. And over the past four years, I have been the constant in their lives. I have never missed a dance recital, school activity, or parent-teacher conference. When they get sick, I take off work. When they need someone to talk to, I drop everything. I have poured my heart and soul into these children."

Because if they could try and understand it from my point of view, maybe they wouldn't be trying to change custody. Maybe they would realize how much damage was done four years ago and how hard I've worked to pick up those pieces and create a stable life for our children.

And maybe someday, they will. Maybe someday, I will look back at how hard this was and be grateful that it got easier and that the relationships got better.

But for now, I only have two goals: Be the best mom I can be for our children and keep my head above water.

I Graduated

I graduated from ASU. 

I now have a bachelors degree in Human and Family Development.

And although my job status has not changed nor will it changed for another few years, the fact that I have that bachelors degree and that a huge piece of my career goals are finished is such a big deal!

College has not been an easy task for me. 

I originally signed up for classes in 2006 after graduating high school. I took one semester of classes at the community college and then I got engaged and dropped out in the middle of my second semester so that I could work full time while my fiance/husband went to school full time.

Then in 2013, after months of marriage counseling with my then-husband, I decided I wanted to go back to school and become a marriage therapist. I signed up for night classes so my husband could be home with the kids during my schooling.

It was going to be perfect. 

And then after ONE week of college classes, my husband and I separated. So instead of night classes being perfect, they ended up being horrible because my kindergartner had to stay up until 10pm on school nights at her dad's house before I could go pick her up and get her to sleep for the night.

So in January of 2014, I signed up for classes during the day and my mom watched Andersen and my best friend kept Hayley after half-day kindergarten.

In August of 2014, Andersen started preschool and I decided to take 2 classes at the college and 2 classes online so that I wouldn't have to use as many babysitters. But then I decided to go back to work so I ended up relying on babysitters three days a week for my little man anyway.

In August of 2015, I started full time at Arizona State University in an online program.

And for the past two years, that is what I've been doing. 

Online school was extremely difficult for me. My ADHD made it really difficult to study on my own and get my work done on time.

I graduated with my bachelors degree with an embarrassingly low GPA. Lower than I've ever had before.

But I persevered through years of hard times---times where I truly wanted to give up and just quit school because it was taking time away from my children and my sleep schedule and my sanity.

And it was absolutely worth it!


A million times THANK YOU to everyone who picked up where I lacked these past four years. To the babysitters, moral supporters, people who participated in my projects, etc. I truly could not have succeeded without all of the support we received and continue to receive.