The Heart of a Girl

Nearly five months have gone by since my last post.  If I didn't have much of a following before, I'm sure I don't have an audience at all now; unless I decide to link to it from my Facebook.  I might; we'll see how eloquent I feel at 1:51 a.m.

My heart is heavy tonight with feelings of inadequacy.  I am NOT an adrenaline junkie; I don't seek out adventure or thrill and I pretty much retreat from conflict. I'm a peacemaker (as most middle-children are) and a centrist: I really try to see all sides of a story, and even then, I try to reserve judgement.  I'm not always successful at this and sometimes I do argue when I'm very passionate about something, but most of the time I just try to keep my head down and fly under the radar. I have enough going on in my little life that I feel my opinion is just a drop in the ocean: meaningless to anyone outside of myself. It is my opinion, however, and if you are reading this you might find some value in what I have to say, despite the small and simple nature of my voice.

The death of Robin Williams has been weighing on me. I haven't really cried yet; maybe I'm still in denial. I do know that he was a beautiful man and a tremendous actor. I am very grateful for the wonderful movies and words and deeds he left behind, to help those millions of us who are in mourning. While his death is a tragedy, I am grateful for the dialogue it has opened. Many people are talking and writing about suicide. I am not here to say whether suicide is right or wrong, whether or not a person who does a lifetime of good deeds is damned for a single decision. That judgement belongs to our loving Father in Heaven, who understands the pain and suffering of every tormented soul. Personally, I believe He will err on the side of mercy and kindness; would that we were as kind to ourselves.

I also know that I am not the only person to have thought of suicide. Being a rational creature, and having had my heart torn apart with the loss of loved ones, I know I could never actually go through with it. I couldn't leave that burden to my family. But I have been desperate enough to pray for an accident, cancer, or something else that would allow me to escape with dignity and without causing pain to others. I even had myself convinced that I would never live past age 35 (I'll be 36 in January). Alas--I am still here. 

Why am I still here? I wonder sometimes. I'm not going to change the world. I'm never going to be a fantastic mother or wife. I doubt I'll ever be famous (and I don't really want to be) or beautiful or thin or a "success story." So why should I continue to stick it out? 

Some say that hope is the answer. Yes, hope is important. I hope that, in the end, our Heavenly Father sees someone who has tried--maybe not as hard as I possibly could, but tried nonetheless--to be a good person, to help others and show love and serve His children. I hope He leans toward the side of mercy over justice when I stand before Him one day; but I can't hang my hat on hope. The idea that something better will come along is not enough. 

Obligation is a big part of why I'm still here. I signed up for this whole parenthood thing, and it is HARD. And I'm not very good at it. I'm far too selfish and I need time to myself, but I can't believe there is anyone on earth who loves my Benjamin as much as I do, and as long as he will let me, I will shower him with hugs and kisses every day. I may fail him completely and never see him as an independent adult; I may never understand what goes on in that brain of his, and I may never be as strong an Autism Advocate as I should be, but I'm trying. My best will never be enough, but dear Lord, I'm trying. I owe it to him to be around as long as I can.

I think the other reason why I haven't gone through with anything is because there is so much beauty in this world. I'm glad I can see it; I know some people cannot (or do not), and my heart breaks for them. The nature, the music, the architecture, the people . . . I have only seen and heard and felt a small part of what this earth has to offer, and there is so much more to experience. Rather than crossing things off, my bucket list keeps growing longer. I guess that is where my hope comes in--that I'll be able to travel and taste and see the wonders of this bountiful earth before I leave it. 

So there's my little drop in the ocean. It may not mean much in the sea full of voices, but it is my voice, and my opinions are as valid as anyone else's. We need to love each other, help each other, and let God be the judge. Please, my friends: let's be kind to one another. We are all fighting hard battles, and we need each other's strength.

As Charming As An Eel

I'm in a rotten mood.  I should be writing my talk for church tomorrow, but my brain is not in a place where I can have the Spirit with me.  I need to get all the crap out to have room for the happy stuff, and this is where I've decided to download the bad.  Feel free to skip this entry; it's probably not good for consumption.  Garlic-in-your-soul, sea-sick crocodile, don't-touch-it-with-a-39-and-a-half-foot-pole kind of stuff.

I have depression.  I hate to admit it, and I hate when it gets to me.  There are a lot of reasons for me to be happy, and yet they can't take root because of all the guilt and resentment and pain that eats me up inside.  Here's why I'm such a grinch today.

1)  I have to speak in church tomorrow.  I have been thinking about what I want to say all week, but I haven't written anything down yet.  I have less than 11 hours to do so, and I'm blogging instead.  So what do I hear in the back of my head?  Procrastinator.  Pathetic.

2)  I have been fighting a cold and running on a sleep-deficit all week.  My average bed time this week has been about 3am.  I feel crappy during the day, and/or I have to work, so the only time I feel well enough to get stuff done is late at night.  Stupid.  No self-control.

3)  I REALLY wanted to go to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas Concert this year.  Tickets are free, but they draw from a lottery as to who gets them.  I have signed up every year for at least the past 5 years, and I have yet to receive any tickets.  But what do I see on Facebook?  "I went, and it was so wonderful!"  "Look where I am! Lucky me!"  My sister Sarah got to go (even though she really didn't care about it) because her friend got tickets.  My sister Rebeccca doesn't want to go tomorrow morning, because she'd have to get up so early.  My Mom will go, though she's not happy about driving all the way to Salt Lake tomorrow.  They didn't offer me an invitation, but I couldn't go anyway because I have to speak in Sacrament Meeting.  Becca told me to 'call in sick,' but I can't do that.  I accepted the invitation, so it's my responsibility to deliver.  Poor me.  Bad attitude.  Unlucky.

4)  Usually, I can put up with Allen's crap.  When I'm already in a mood, the things he does just grate on me.    He claimed that his only responsibility today was to keep Benji out of my hair so I could write my talk.  We were in Logan for the NFCP, and he spent practically the entire day playing on his Nook.  I took Benji and Rachael with me to Hobby Lobby, and Allen was supposed to keep an eye on Lily and Tessa.  "But I need to take a shower."  He kept reminding me that I needed to write my talk, but it is nearly impossible for me to concentrate when I'm in Logan.  We helped my mom make food baskets to take to people in her ward, and when it was suggested that Allen do something other than sit on his ass, he said "How did I get roped into this?"  I took a short nap, and when I came downstairs, my siblings were helping their children decorate gingerbread houses.  Allen was still sitting on the couch, not even trying to help Benji participate.  Allen didn't even consider taking Benji to the movie with everyone else.  We both ended up staying at the house, and though Allen was supposed to be watching Benji, I found the boy having thrown everything (including ornaments and a poinsettia) off of mom's entry table and spinning a knife.  Stellar job, honey.  Just spectacular.  And when asked to do something else, he said, "I'm in pack-mule mode," i.e., he was putting stuff in the car, and couldn't possibly help out someone else for a few minutes.  I'm pissed that I agreed to spend eternity with this guy.  Short-sighted.  Miserable.

5)  I love hanging out with my siblings.  It's honestly one of my favorite things.  Over dinner, we were talking about Thanksgiving (which Dave & Lexy spent in Chile), and they started talking (facetiously) about how their children are "perfect."  I know these kids, and I know how each of them has certain things they struggle with, but compared to Benji, in my twisted mind, they are perfect.  They are smart.  They are normal.  They don't have "Special Needs."  So again, I start feeling guilty about having an autistic child, recalling all the things that make me a terrible mother, and feeling jealous about all the things I am missing that other parents take for granted every day.  Sad.  Rueful.  Resentful.

6)  I'm so sad about the school shootings in Connecticut.  I can't believe how heartless one young man can be, and how sensational and political the media has made this incredibly sad event.  I'm grateful my boy is safe, and I'm glad he doesn't understand, but I still wish I could talk with him about it.  I wish he could understand how much I love him, even though I'm incredibly frustrated with him much of the time.   Horrified.  Unappreciative. 

Can you see why I'm not in a very good place to write something spiritual?  I feel slightly better having gotten it all out, and I know I just need to do it.  I'm a bad banana with a greasy black peel.