Dealing With Anxiety

In high school, I started having these little episodes where I felt like my heart was racing or skipping beats. I chalked this up to genetics because when I was younger, my mother had experienced some minor heart issues.

I asked her if we could go to the doctor because I was pretty sure I was experiencing the same thing she had experienced.

Much to my surprise, my heart ended up being healthy. Instead, I was diagnosed with panic attacks.

Wait, what?

The "attack" verbiage sounded a little too intense for what I was feeling. Sure, I was hiding an eating disorder and was constantly measuring myself up to the people around me. And yes, I was extremely temperamental with my family members. And my life sure didn't feel easy at the time.

But I didn't feel like my chest pains felt like an attack.

In fact, most of the time, these "attacks" would happen when I was doing something I loved like in the middle of a dance class or during choir or just hanging out with my friends. They would last a minute or so and as I breathed through them, the feeling would go away.

Luckily, they were few and far between. And as time went on, I got used to them. Anxiety became a part of me and quite frankly, it didn't bother me that much. I never labeled myself as an anxious person or really gave much thought to these little episodes because they were just that---little.

Fast-forward to today. 

Anxiety has become a stronger and more prominent struggle in my life. 

The things I've experience in the past 12 years as an adult have been pretty difficult and have come with many big decisions and changes.

I lost a baby three months into my marriage. After my son was born, I was diagnosed with infertility. My marriage was filled with challenges and lies. My husband left me 'out of the blue'. I struggled with my eating disorder. I lost friends. My children were hurt by someone I thought was safe. I lost my faith. I had to go to trial to fight a change in child custody.

My brain tells me I keep losing things and that things keep shifting no matter what I do to try and stop them.

So based on that logic, I'm often MORE anxious when things in my life are going well---because I'm just waiting for another bomb to drop.
And surely this is not a productive way to live my life.

And to most, it wouldn't even seem like I live my life this way. I try to keep things real while also keeping things positive.

In fact, as I went back to counseling recently, my therapist asked how my life was going and I replied, "It's fabulous! On paper, everything is going great right now! I am an empowered, badass single mom. I graduated this past year from ASU. I just reopened my foster availability. My faith is stronger than it has been in a long time. I love my job. I love my kids. I love my coworkers. BUT---I am having trouble controlling my anxiety." {And yes, I really did refer to myself as a badass multiple times during our conversation.}

I don't show it often. But the reason I talk about the reality of my anxiety is because I know I am not alone. And I know that there are a lot of people who don't speak up because they think they will be perceived differently---more negatively. And I know I am still a stable mother who is capable of doing great things.

BUT---anxiety. 

A lot of my days move like this:

The second I drop my kids off to school, my chest feels a little heavier. And to deal with this, I start speaking out loud to myself in the car. "Suzanne, they are going to be fine. You can leave them. Breathe. Life is good. Everything is good right now. Nothing bad has happened."

I then get to work and have a hard time focusing because I'll zero in on my pen not writing evenly or I'll obsess over how I'm going to tackle everything that needs to be done after work/school or I'll get anxious that I haven't been a good enough friend lately and what if my friends desert me? Chest tightening. Heart pounding. Sweaty palms. So then I'll pep talk myself again but this time, in my mind. "Suzanne, you are doing great. Nothing catastrophic has happened. Your pen is fine. You will get everything done that you need to. The kids are safely at school. The school would call if they needed you. Trust your friends. Nothing bad has happened."

When my doorbell rings---instant anxiety.
When I get a text message from certain people---instant anxiety.
If an email comes through that has to do with the trial I just went through---instant anxiety.
When I sign into my bank account---instant anxiety.
When I walk into the chaos that is currently my house---instant anxiety.

And although I could keep painting you a picture, I think you get the point.

My brain often feels like it's working overtime just for me to act normally in every day situations. It is absolutely exhausting. And yet, for the most part, it is invisible.

When I was first diagnosed with an actual anxiety disorder, I was a married, stay-at-home mom. I had been in marriage counseling with my husband for a few months when my brain started sending panic signals for little things.

At the grocery store, I would become anxious over picking the right brand or spending the right amount of money. I would struggle when I knew I could not justify buying an even number of a certain food. My 'even numbers' obsession got pretty strong and I had no idea why. {As I've mentioned before, I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.} 

I was afraid of my husband but not because he physically abused me. (He NEVER did.) I was afraid of his mood swings. His disbelief in God was painful for me. I didn't feel like I knew him anymore.

But I didn't believe those things were capable of causing anxiety when making a decision as menial as what brand of food to buy.

My struggle with anxiety at this time was pretty invisible to anyone other than myself, my husband, and my therapist.

In fact, during a marriage counseling session, my husband brought up my OCD (which was his way of deflecting the topic off of him) and although at first, I was hurt that he was blaming me, I am really glad he did that because it opened up a topic that had been making me feel crazy. Our marriage therapist warned me that OCD is often heightened after a traumatic event. And maybe she had accepted that our marriage was on the rocks more than I had at the time. That made it so that I felt safe talking about how my OCD really was becoming harder to control and was taking on some unusual habits, including anxiety over germs, something I had never dealt with before.

I poured myself into being a better homemaker, a more patient wife, and I took on the majority of our parental responsibilities on my own. I wanted this to fix my husband, to fix our relationship.

I tried being submissive. I tried standing up for myself more. I tried to lose weight. I tried to leave him alone more.

And when he left me, I had this sudden realization that I could not control this situation. Nothing I said or did would've changed his mind at that time.

This is when the anxiety hit hardest. 

I felt so out of control, realizing that I could not fix the very thing I was trying to fix. I worried about how my kids would grow up and whether anybody could ever love post-pregnancy-body Suzanne.

I was stoic. I pretended to be strong. And maybe just the mere fact that I was able to put on a brave face was actually brave.

But on the inside, my anxiety was controlling me. 

What were people going to think of me? Whether they knew he chose to leave or heard "the other story" of how I kicked him out, were they going to hate me? Would they look at my body and blame it as the root of the problem? Would they find flaws in my character? Would I ever get remarried? Would my kids be ok? Would I actually make it financially and emotionally and physically on my own?

It took me a few months to adjust to this new adult life where I made decisions on my own and slept alone and paid bills alone.

And since that horrible day four and a half years ago, I have learned a lot about my anxiety. Most of the time, I have done incredibly well at not letting it control me. But sometimes, there seems to be nothing I can do short of surrendering to God and begging him to help me stay calm.

And sometimes even that doesn't take my anxiety away.

It's pretty hard to control right now. Probably harder than it has been in years. When I lay in my bed at the end of the day or let my mind wander at work or while driving, I start to feel the weight pressing down on my chest. It isn't always easy to talk myself through it but I've been trying new techniques like music, meditation, and extra prayers in those difficult moments.

And something HUGE that I've learned is that when my anxiety hits and I'm in a situation where I can remove myself, I do it.

If there is contention that I can walk away from or if I need to take a short walk around the building at work or if I need to turn on The Office when I wake up in the middle of the night, I do it.

I am so grateful that 'life is good' right now and that this is usually just a phase that comes on strong after a really traumatic event has passed. Because as I said above, life being good is sometimes my biggest trigger because I fear the unknown of what bomb could drop next.

Anxiety does not define me but it is a part of me. 

I might sound crazy to you or I might be describing something you deal with. Either one of those is ok with me. I am comfortable speaking about my anxiety because I know I am a good person and that I have good intentions and am doing amazing things with the life I've been given.

If you've been around me lately, you've probably seen the more anxious side of me and I want you to know how thankful I am for your patience. Because when anxiety hits me hard, I know that I have to let certain things go. I know I need space. I know I won't answer texts as fast or answer my phone as often. I know I need to walk away and ask for help more often.

And if you have anxiety and you need a safe space to talk about it, please don't hesitate to reach out to me. Because if helping others is the one good thing that comes from this, I'm ok with that. :)

The Little Things ARE The Big Things

It's the little things, really.

Singing loudly to a song on the radio.
Giving in to "just one more snuggle" before bedtime.
Getting weighed at the doctor's office and not freaking out.
Going to lunch with coworkers.
Being able to step in and help someone else.
Teaching dance and watching your tiny dancers improve.
Talking to a friend on the phone.
Full on belly laughing while watching The Office for the hundredth time.
Hearing the words "I love you" without prompting from your children.
Getting a surprise visit from your sister and her kids.
Being invited over to dinner at someone's house.

All of the little things add up and they become quite big.

I'm feeling all of that this week.

The kids have been adjusting to the new co-parenting schedule and it was touch and go there for a while. The changes seemed small to me but when it includes different people dropping them off or picking them up at school, it feels huge to the kids. I lamented to my mom a week ago how hard it is to parent without yelling or losing my mind but that I truly believe that is what my kids need from me so I'm working hard at it---BUT IT'S SO DANG HARD! The kids had both been on a streak of disrespectful behavior. I heard phrases like "I hate you", "Shut up", and "I don't care" more than I've ever heard out of their mouths before.

In fact, I can count on one hand how many times I remember the phrase "I hate you" coming out of either of their mouths.

It lasted almost a full week and I was feeling extremely defeated. I know they're struggling to feel stability. I know they react like this when they're scared.

But it still hurts.

I was nervous for the weekend because I didn't want it to keep getting harder.

Each time my children had lashed out, I had reacted with compassion---although sometimes I was faking that compassion and holding back hurt feelings and anger.

But as the weekend rolled in, there seemed to be a calmness in our home.

We spent a lot of time together doing some of our favorite things:

Watching National Geographic movies on elephants, white wolves, gorillas, and polar bears.
Playing games together.
Turning cleaning into various different races and games.
Going to the movies.
Eating out.
Separate date nights with each of them.

It was probably the best long weekend we've had. Ever.

And as the week progressed, it started to feel a little bit more normal in our home and less hostile.

But the growing pains are still there. On Wednesday, there was a mix-up and Hayley was almost an hour late for dance which resulted in meltdowns throughout the next 3 hours of dance. I went and got her favorite snacks and let her teachers know what was going on and everyone was patient with her. Oh how grateful I am to her teachers for understanding. In fact, one of them took her out in the hall and braided her hair and talked her through her emotions before taking her back to her class. I will forever be grateful to Miss Melissa for doing that for my girly, knowing they have competition in a week but making sure Hayley's feelings were a priority.

The fact of the matter is, none of this stuff is their fault. The kids didn't choose divorce or co-parenting or schedule changes. They don't choose who picks them up or whether they're dropped off at the correct times with the correct things they need for dance or play practice.

Co-parenting is often messy at it's best. 

But I am so thankful that my lingering anxiety hits hardest when the kids are gone. And I'm so thankful that they're not gone from my side often. And I'm so thankful that I have friends and family and therapy to help me through the times when they are gone.

Because it makes it so that I can enjoy those times that they are with me. And I'm learning to practice self-care when they are gone.

And all of those little things that make me happy are truly not little.

They build me up and remind me that life is so beautiful. They remind me that there are always multiple things to be thankful for.

And most importantly, they remind me that my Heavenly Father knows me personally and is looking out for me.

I'll get through this rough patch of anxiety because I have support. And my children have support. And those things mean the world to me and remind me just how blessed we are.

Lingering Anxiety

In June of 2017, my world felt like a complete mess.

I'll be honest---my ex-husband getting remarried was not easy for me. It came with a lot of changes and also a lot of heartache, as I watched him start a new life while I was still alone.

But on top of that, I was awoken early on the day of Hayley's summer dance recital to someone banging on my front door and ringing the doorbell over and over again.

Apparently, that's what court servers do... 

The constant door banging and doorbell ringing had woken everyone in my home up at 6:00am, including our foster baby. And then the man explained that he was serving me court papers for a change in child custody.

I could hardly breathe.

But after sobbing on the phone to my mother for a few minutes outside, I picked myself up and walked back into my home to get all of my children ready for the day.

Before we left for the dance recitals, I called my home teacher and received a Priesthood blessing. In it, God told me there were specific reasons this was happening and that I would gain knowledge throughout this process that would help others throughout my life.

And somehow, I managed to make it through the day of dance recitals without crying.

But it was that night that I completely lost it in my room. And it was almost every night after that for the month of June that I sobbed into my pillow as I fell asleep.

Every time my children were with me, I kept them close. And each time they left my side, I felt anxious.

Every choice I made was made carefully. Normal, every day things scared me. I shut my blog down for 5 months. I put my foster care license on hold. I took a semester off of school. I was constantly worried about the future and haunted by the past.

I found myself at the court house four different times and each time, the anxiety I felt on the inside was almost unbearable. But somehow I kept it inside and was able to get through each of those court appointments.

I met with my attorney on numerous occasions and felt anxious each and every time I had to speak about the possibility of the future.

Any time an email would come through from my attorney or the opposing attorney, my body would immediately revert to a state of anxiety, without even knowing what I was about to click on.

The entire process was extremely traumatic for me.

And the week before trial, the panic I felt anytime I was separated from my children heightened.

I'm a planner by nature. And thanks to my diagnosis of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, I hate feeling like I'm not in control. And this whole thing had me feeling very much like the choices of our future were not in my control but in the hands of a judge who doesn't even know our family.

It has been almost nine months since I was woken at 6am on a Saturday morning.
I spent most of 2017 wondering why this was happening and how this would affect my children.

And last Sunday, I asked my bishop for a Priesthood blessing as I was going into the week of trial.

In the blessing, I was told that I would be able to speak calmly and feel peace during this process. I wasn't sure I believed it because I know myself---and I am not an eloquent speaker nor did I believe it would be possible to feel peace inside that court room.

But I tried so hard to trust that blessing.

And when Wednesday rolled around, I decided I was going to have a great morning with my kids and trust that God would be there when the afternoon hit.

And all I'll say about the trial is that God delivered on His promises. I felt incredible peace and reassurance and I spoke more clearly than I've ever been able to before.
It was miraculous and beautiful and empowering and since that day, I've said prayers of gratitude daily for a God who was there exactly when I needed Him.

It's now over.

And all of the promises made to me were given.
And in so many ways, I am grateful for the past nine months and everything I have learned.

But what I've experienced in the past week has been really difficult.

I assumed when this ended, the heightened anxiety would end.
Unfortunately, it didn't.

Sometimes the anxiety hits when the trauma is over because our brains tell us it's safe to feel. 

This isn't the first time I've experienced this and it won't be the last. It's hard to have a major portion of your heart walking around without your protection for most of the day. Motherhood is the greatest thing I've ever been given and yet, it comes with a lot of anxiety because I cannot always protect my children when I want to. 

So this is where I'm at. It has been a long nine months and I am extremely grateful that the hardest parts are over. But please be patient with me throughout this transition. It's going to take me some time to feel like I'm back to a new normal again.

2018

Wow.

2017. 

As a whole, I hated this year. But that's mainly because of a bigger picture issue that started in May/June.

When I really think about it, 2017 wasn't half bad. 

Hayley was baptized in January.
I graduated from ASU with a bachelors degree!
We dove into foster care with our sweet Yaya and since then, have been taking a break due to the 'bigger picture' issues mentioned above. But hopefully, 2018 will bring with it more children into our home that need us.
Hayley chopped almost ALL of her hair off!
Hayley also made Company at her dance studio.
I started teaching dance again in July at the same studio.
We were surprised and blessed with a new van in July---and with it, a stability that was something I hadn't even realized would bring so much comfort to my heart.
Andersen was baptized in October.
Andersen also landed an ensemble role in The Lion King play and will perform at the end of January.
We were able to go to Carlsbad twice.
Andersen tested into the 94th percentile nationally in reading and writing at school.
Hayley got her aerial and a round-off back handspring (and she's super close to her back tuck)!
I got to spend this second half of the year focusing on my kids while taking a break from my schooling.

So many amazing blessings came to our family this year. 

And it truly would've been a near-perfect year without those dumb 'bigger picture issues' clouding my brain and making this year feel darker than it actually was.

I have had moments of doubt and despair this year, as I've considered how our family situation will change in 2018. I have let fear and anger control me and have relied on my family and friends to talk me through those hardest moments where I don't feel like I can continue to be brave.

But through it all, I am stronger. Through it all, I am learning so much about myself.

And because I want to have gratitude for the good intertwined in those darkest hours, here are some things that the 'bigger picture issues' have taught me: 

I have kept my 2017 goal of being more present with my children. I have tried to make this year a year of making memories, teaching/practicing patience, listening more and talking less. I have realized just how precious every moment with my children is and have tried so hard not to take our time together for granted.

I have grown closer to my parents and have a deeper sense of appreciation for everything they do to support our family. I have felt the love they have for me and for my children in a completely new way this year.

I have learned more than ever how to deal with my anxiety. I definitely still have panic attacks. I definitely still get knocked down with feelings of fear. And I definitely still thank God for the creation of Zoloft. But I have learned how to help those feelings leave quicker. I have learned to talk myself down when I am scared about the future and I have learned how to stand up for what I believe in, no matter how scary it feels.

I have prayed more and have drawn closer to my Heavenly Father---knowing that if there is not a good outcome when all of these 'bigger picture issues' are decided, I will need to rely on Him to help me through.


I was praying a few weeks ago about what my next steps should be in life. I wondered if God was going to give me something to focus on in 2018 like He has in the past. Because this is certainly shaping up to be a big year and it is starting with our family facing some significant challenges.

I didn't want to pick another synonym for "brave", although that was exactly what I needed in years past and is honestly something I still remind myself of daily. I wanted it to be something different, something with a more clear purpose. I wanted to be able to set a goal with a path that I could work on periodically throughout the year.

He didn't answer me right then but a few days later, after speaking with a family member, I knew exactly what I needed to focus on in 2018. I knew what path I needed to follow, a path I had been avoiding for years because I was scared of the final outcome and honestly wasn't sure I could succeed in finishing.


The word I've chosen for 2018 is
Forgiveness. 

I have decided to start the LDS church's 12-step program and really dive into those pieces of my life that are still painful and have not been easy to let go.
I've attended these addiction recovery meetings before but only ever as an ex-wife needing support. I have never attended them while having my main focus be how I can improve and let go of the past.
*And although it might sound weird to start an addiction recovery program when I want to focus on forgiveness, the LDS's 12-step program is so much deeper than just recovering from an addiction. It is for everyone. And I have faith that if I work this program through all 12 steps, my life will be changed for the better.


Although I have been adamant over and over that I have forgiven my ex-husband for leaving our family, I think I've always held onto this tiny piece of anger that still flares up from time to time.
Yes, what my ex-husband did was hurtful and traumatic for myself and for our children. And I think I've been afraid that if I don't hold onto some piece of anger toward him, everything that I went through during our divorce would be negated.

And those painful memories are ones that are almost sacred to me. They teach me and remind me and they were very real. And I have always been worried that if I down-play everything that's happened in the past 10 years, I'll just be left with being the crazy single mom who has anxiety.

So I'm working to truly forgive and let go of all of the hurt surrounding my marriage and divorce.

I have also been holding on to some deep-rooted hurt feelings toward a group of people whom I used to call friends. Mostly for the same reasons---if I let go of those feelings, is it like they never happened in the first place? Because some of those traumatic events left me feeling worthless and completely devastated.

I had a really painful experience this past week that revolved around those friendships ending and I realized just how much I need to let that go because the only person it is hurting now is me.

Super profound, right?
{You'd think by now I'd just trust the things I was taught as a young child in Sunday School...}

But I think the person I need to forgive more than anyone else is myself.

Because in both of these situations, and in many others, I have made decisions that were not the best ones I could've made. I hurt people---and I hate hurting people.

I let fear or anger or hurt feelings drive my decisions in how I handled the situations I was put in.

And that is not the type of person I want to be.

I've blamed myself for ignoring red flags, not knowing better, being young and naive, not being good enough, not being compassionate enough, etc. And when I find myself in darkness, it is easy to hate myself and blame all of the hard things in my life on my decisions and actions.

I hold a lot of anger toward myself and most of the time, I don't even realize it. So in 2018, I'm going to dig in and figure out how to let that all go. Because I deserve to be treated well and loved---especially by the person staring back at me in the mirror.


On top of forgiving, I have a few other goals I'd like to be accountable to.

Although I improved this past year in some areas, I lacked in others.

I made a goal to be more organized and that one became a joke as I struggled just to deal with my anxiety. So because I am praying the end to those anxious feelings will come in a week or two, I am re-making the goal to be more organized. I want my house to feel like our home more than it ever has before. I want it to be cozy and calm and inviting of the Spirit. I want less chaos and more peace.
Going along with that, I am going to cook more this year. I did amazingly well this past year and cooked more than I ever have before (which was still am embarrassingly low number) and this year, I plan on showing my kids that the natural question is actually "What are we going to eat for dinner?" and not "Where are we going to eat for dinner?" . 
I made a goal in 2017 to attend the temple once a month and that did not happen. In fact, about mid-February, I pulled the reigns back on the religion thing and then started to ease myself into it from there. Because going back to a religion I left was harder than I had anticipated it would be. But it's now been a year and I'm pushing along each and every day. So 2018---more temple attendance. Because I like that place.
And going along with that goal, I am making a goal to keep asking questions in 2018. Because it seems that when I stop asking questions, my testimony gets halted and stagnant. I want 2018 to be a strong year and so, when I don't understand something or agree with it, I will speak up and ask the people I trust to help me better understand this church I love so much.

2018 is going to be a good year because I plan on making it a good year. 

I have already proven to myself that I am capable of greatness this year and I plan to continue that throughout the year.


As a last sidenote, if you were a part of our lives in 2017, thank you from the very bottom of my heart. We were so blessed and supported this past year and really felt the prayers and strength you gave to us when we needed it most.

Children of Divorce

Hayley came home the other day and was jealous because a friend of hers had gotten special attention from their teacher.

I'd like to say that 9 is the "age of jealousy" but Hayley has struggled with this her whole life.

Jealousy is such a hard feeling.

I remember being a kid and celebrating my older sister's birthday one year. She was unwrapping presents and opened something that I had been asking for.

So of course, I lost my ever-loving mind! Right there in the middle of her party. I made a huge scene and I'm pretty sure I spent the rest of the party in my room.

And two months later, when my birthday came around, I unwrapped the same gift and sheepishly thanked my parents.

Because what I hadn't known two months prior was that they had bought us both that present but planned to give it to us on our respective birthdays.

Quite honestly, I'm surprised they still chose to give it to me after that episode...

Anyway, as I was listening to Hayley complain and feel hurt that she hadn't gotten any special attention, she gave me the name of the other child and I immediately knew why this girl had gotten that special attention.

And then Hayley yelled, "And it was all because her parents are getting divorced! MY parents are divorced too!!!"

Sigh...

And so I sat down with my sweet and sour little girl and we had a conversation about how divorce affects children, especially in those painful beginning stages.

I explained that four years ago when her dad and I were getting divorced, she got to move her desk to be right next to her Kindergarten teacher. Also during this time, I took her on numerous extra special date nights. And my parents and siblings and friends poured extra time into my children's lives.
And although those things were the most important, my kids were also showered with extra gifts during this time to help them feel loved and remembered.

And then she turned the conversation more personal and asked me why we got divorced---a question I have answered for her many times but that does not make sense to her still.

I think that's why she keeps asking even though she gets some kind of answer every time. 
I have never shied away from this question but I also only answer what is appropriate for her age and understanding.

So we went over it again. How people have their agency and we cannot force them to stay. How sometimes people make decisions that hurt others even when they don't mean to. How these same people can be good, loving people.

I explained that hurt people hurt people. 

And her response to this was, "Well I never hurt anyone when you guys were getting divorced." 

Which wasn't true. 

Because sometimes when you are the safe person, you are the person who takes the brunt of a child's confusing anger and instability.

And I was that person for my kids. 

The instability that Hayley was feeling when she was 5 was very real and scary for her and she would often lose her temper and tell me she hated me and kick me and smack me. And usually, these tantrums would end with us both laying in her bed and me promising that I'd always be there for her.

Of course, as I told her this, she began apologizing for her 5-year-old behavior. And then she asked me why I didn't get angry and hurt her back.

And so I explained that when you love someone as much as I love her, often times you can see beneath their reactions. So when she would kick me, I knew she was reacting to her scared feelings. And I knew what she needed was a mom who would prove to her that I wasn't going anywhere, no matter how many times she screamed.

Sometimes I felt like Hayley was testing me during this time, like she was testing to see what the boundary was where my love for her stopped.

And I'd like to think that I proved myself throughout that first year. I hope I proved to her that nothing can change how much I love her.


This conversation ended like most of them do---I laid next to her in her bed and promised her that I would always be there for her.

But as I sat on her bed and watched her fall asleep, I kept replaying all of the ways that divorce has affected my children.

---Anxiety. The confusion of waking up one day and one parent just being gone. I can't even imagine being 5 and having this happen and trying to make sense of it. Because before August 24th, 2013, I don't believe my children had ever considered their parents NOT living in the same home.
This confusion created anger and sadness and instability. It created attachment anxiety and my kids needing constant affirmation that I wasn't going anywhere. Andersen started to have pretty bad anxiety during our divorce and reverted back to a lot of 'baby behaviors'. He still can be pretty clingy at times and we often lay his schedule out ahead of time so he knows where he is going and what he is doing.

---The negative impacts on extracurricular activities. Scheduling Hayley's dance stuff can be really stressful for me and in turn, she gets stressed out sometimes. There are times she accidentally leaves a dance outfit or dance shoes at her dad's house and we can't go get it before it is needed. Andersen also goes through this when his soccer games are every weekend and he switches houses every weekend so we have to make sure everything is ready to go days ahead of time so he is packed and won't be missing anything.

---Heartache when interacting with children of NON-divorced parents. Sometimes my kids come home from a friends house or from church and they seem to have this reoccurring realization that most families aren't like ours. Most families have a mom and a dad who live at home and go to church together with their children and attend activities together. And every once in a while, my kids will get sad about this realization and will experience a range of emotions that are hard to feel.

---The worry that they are going to lose more family members. This rides alongside the attachment anxiety. My kids used to ask me questions like, "Is grandma going to leave the family?" "Will my cousins always be my cousins?" "When you get remarried, do we still get to see our dad?", etc. because to them, these are valid concerns. If one person can just move out of the house they've always shared, what stops other people from leaving?

---Guilt. My kids have struggled with feeling guilty. This one especially affects Hayley. She is always concerned about her dad's and my feelings. She will retract a sentence if she thinks I'll interpret it as her loving her dad more than me or vice versa. We work on this a lot because I want her to know she can love us both and that saying something good about one of us does not negate her love for the other person.

For me, the hardest part of divorce has been not being able to take away the pain my kids feel. It is so hard to watch your children experience really difficult emotions and not be able to take that from them.

But the good news is that they can still live amazing lives. We can support them and listen to them and show up when they need us.

I don't quite understand what my children have gone through because I did not grow up in the same environment they are but I believe that if I continue to be there and love them and give them as much stability as I'm able to, they will be ok.

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.