Notes from the Stage

As many of you know I just finished 6 dance performances for the Christmas season.  For a short moment I thought there was no way I was going to be able to do it.  I had to finish 60 hours at my internship, write 4 final papers, and take a final.  Don't mention my responsibilities at home, church, work, and dance.  In a moment of emotional desperation I sat next to my mother and bawled my eyes out.  As a recovering perfectionist, I can't do everything just "as good at its going to get" but rather I need it to be "the best."  My mom suggested I stop dance.  Driving an hour to teach, rehearse, and perform and then an hour back home 3-4 days a week is rough to say the very least. However, beginning with that pinnacle moment by my mom's side, everything came together.  

I learned early on in my life that there a handful of things that can truly make me smile: children, dance, and the gospel of Jesus Christ.  During the three weeks that felt as though I would never see daylight again, I continued to teach ballet to 15 tiny dancers.  I distinctly remember driving an hour to get to the studio, ready to walk in and tell my boss that I needed to go home and take a "mental health day."  Once I walked in, I couldn't help but feel the genuine and sincere love from my students.  They were excited to see me and I was bombarded with hugs and updates on the week--everything from Santa's impending arrival to love interests to a recent birthday party.  Their smiles were contagious.  Their energy lit up the otherwise dark night sky that creeped in through the windows.

My first 4 performances of the season were for a local Christmas worship service and began later that week.  The "Imagine Christmas" production is put on every year in Bristow, Virginia and includes an orchestra, a children's choir, an adult choir, sermons, and dancers.  I had two rehearsals to learn and perfect my piece.  The choreographer told me the movements were to tell the story of Mary's response to seeing the Angel Gabriel.  Once I understood that, the dance took a deeper meaning and dedication.  However, every time I had practiced the dance on the stage I had forgotten a different piece of the choreography.  Before each of the four performances, I fervently prayed that I could dance from my heart, that even if I forgot a step, I could continue to worship through the movements and music.  During my 2nd performance, my mind blanked.  But as soon as I finished the last step that I could remember, the steps that followed flooded into my mind and I continued to perform what felt like a flawless performance.  I have no doubt my Heavenly Father answered my innocent prayers that day.  

My last 2 performances were for my studio's production of "The Nutcracker."  Last year I spent every free moment, and every not-so-free-moment rehearsing for the Grand Pas de Deux.  This year, as somewhat as a blessing in disguise, my boss could not find a male dancer to partner me for the pas de deux and I had more time to focus on my hectic school and church schedule.  When the performances began last weekend, I had just finished my school semester, allowing me to enjoy the thrill of dancing without any looming deadlines.  I was able to dance alongside my students and they loved calling me THE Sugar Plum Fairy.  They doted on me and I felt appreciated and loved.  Right before the curtain went up for the first performance, I felt an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude--both from my Heavenly Father and for the many hours that the parents, teachers, and students selflessly put into this production.  I couldn't stop smiling as the curtains opened--and luckily never stopped.  

Parents never stopped thanking me for my talents.  I was told I was in a different caliber of dancing and they were so grateful for all I do for their children.  Being able to feel so much appreciation and love is foreign to me in the dance world.  Coming back to a nurturing and positive environment is such a blessing.

The morning after my last performance, my mother told me how much she loves to watch me dance and what a huge blessing it is for me to teach and dance in such a positive environment.  She told me that it would be wonderful if I could find a way to make it work next year.  I admitted I had already committed in my mind to always make it work.  Part of it is self-care--the joy and release it is to dance.  Part of it is the reward--the ability to see my dancers feel a sense of pride over their hard work, as well as the accomplishment it is for me. 

This week I have felt an added measure of the Spirit in preparation for Christmas.  I know Christ was born to Mary some 2000 years ago.  I know He lives.  He continues to bless us.  I know He loves us and I am eternally indebted to Him.  I wish you all a Blessed and Merry Christmas.

As I close my last post for the year, I want to publicly express my appreciation for Mark.  He is my rock.  He has seen me at my worst and my best and still loves me all the same.  He makes me feel like royalty.  Thank you.  I love you.

Recognizing Blessings

I couldn't help but express my pent up gratitude this week.  Pent up because I hadn't genuinely vocalized it for weeks.  

First, I expressed it to my Maker during the drive to work in Warrenton.  Prayer relieves the weary soul!  Aren't we all prone to weariness at some point, maybe even more frequently than we would like?  I vocalized my prayer of gratitude for my health, my peers, my education, my co-workers, my concerned parents, my calling in my local Church, the sisters I serve in that calling, my loving and devoted boyfriend, and my safety.  Recognizing the multitude of blessings I have received and am receiving helps me to realize that I am never alone.  Not ever.

Second, I was brought to tears last night, thinking of the friends I have lost, both literally and figuratively, to the eating disorder and depression I suffered with for so long.  So often I think to myself, that was supposed to be me.  But somehow, in someway, I was blessed to be able to rise above it.  

On a slight tangent, I was sitting on campus Thursday afternoon eating a snack.  Not what I "should" have been eating, as one woman was quick to point out.  Rather, I was enjoying chips.  Cheddar and sour cream Ruffles chips to be exact.  Never in my life did I picture myself doing such a thing.  Eating them, for one, but also enjoying them.  On top of that, to be a dancer again and to be okay with eating what I crave and eating what best suits my strenuous physical and emotional schedule.  I ate a donut in front of my little dancers on Monday, when one of them brought donuts for the entire class to celebrate her birthday.  And I was proud.  Proud to show them that I can eat what I want, in moderation, and with control, but also with enjoyment.  

Blessings are poured out to each of us.  Do we have the eyes to recognize them?  With recognizing those blessings comes our increased ability to see the hand of God.  We may not be able to see His literal hand, but pretty darn close to it.  He is in our lives.  He doesn't throw out blessings to the masses, but knows each of us personally and specifically, showing us mercy and love.

With Thanksgiving upon us, it is custom to express gratitude for all that we have.  But if we wait until that one season to express thanks and recognize our blessings, we are bound to lose sight of the many blessings we have been given throughout the hours and minutes of every day.  Unseen miracles occur everyday.  If we take a moment to first recognize them and second remember them, we will be happier and at greater peace.  Try it.  I promise it works.  :)

Momentary Despair

As an LDS student at George Mason University, I woke up early this morning to attend Institute on campus.  It's always hard to leave the comfort of my bed.  Always.  It could be Christmas morning and I would gladly sleep in late.  However, I am especially grateful that I made it to Institute this gloomy Wednesday morning.  

The course material this semester comes from the Doctrine and Covenants and today's topic of discussion was on the lost 116 pages.  Joseph Smith had been translating the Gold Plates with Martin Harris acting as his scribe.  Martin desperately wanted to share the work with his resistant wife and family members, to help them believe in the marvelous work and wonder that was coming forth at the hands of Joseph Smith.  Joseph prayed to ask permission for Martin to show the first 116 pages of the manuscript to his family.  The answer was "no."  Joseph prayed a second time.  The answer was "no."  Finally, Joseph prayed a third time and the answer was "yes," though there were some conditions.  Martin could show the manuscript to only certain people.  Martin disobeyed this counsel the manuscript was lost.  Distraught by this tragedy, Joseph Smith lost the ability and privilege to translate for some time.

The question was raised in the class, "Have you ever strayed or been tempted to stray from what you knew was right?  What were the consequences and how did you resolve to stay on the strait and narrow?"  My answer to this question is where the topic of this post comes from...

The culminating moment that led to my decision to leave BYU began around Halloween of my junior year, 2010.  I lived in Provo with my sister and was transferred to a hospital in Salt Lake.  I was told that my sister could not come visit me as often as I wished, as the drive to Salt Lake after school took too much time away from her studies as a senior at BYU.  Not to mention the early snowfall and dangers of driving at night.  I felt so alone.  In my mind, I could justify indulging in depressive thinking, leading to living less than my potential had in store for me.  Shortly after I was discharged from the hospital, I withdrew from BYU.  The temptations to resist the help of the Lord and my loving family members were strong.  But as I think about this experience, I look back and see the only thing that kept me worthy of the life I have now: faith.  I had been raised in a loving home of goodly parents.  I knew from a young age that I wanted to return to my Father in Heaven.  Every time I played with Barbie and Ken dolls, they ended up getting married in the temple, for I knew from age 3 that the only way to begin to have supreme, everlasting happiness was to be married in the temple.  

I look back and see that I knew then (and still know now), even among the trials I was experiencing, that I could not and would not sacrifice eternal happiness, even in times of momentary despair.  

I read D&C 3:8 with these inclusions:

"Yet you WERE faithful; and he DID extend his arm and supported you against all the fiery darts of the adversary; and he WAS and IS with you in every time of trouble."

I know without a doubt that my life was spared and even blessed because I withstood those times of temptation to stray from what I knew was right.  And I promise to you that He will bless you too if you sacrifice momentary despair for everlasting peace.  I promise.  

Sacred Moments

There are moments in our lives that, due to their sacred nature, will be forever considered temples amidst the trials of life.  I have had countless experiences that I will forever hold dear to my heart for that same reason.  I take off my mental shoes when I enter those memories and feelings.  This past week I was able to spend some time in Palmyra, New York in the Sacred Grove and nearby Church history sites.  Feeling the love of Heavenly Father in a quiet and serene environment is something I long for and cherish when I can escape the hustle and bustle of the world.  As I stood in awe of the Witness Trees in the grove (trees that stood at the time of the First Vision), I felt the warmth of the Spirit.  There is no doubt in my mind of the truthfulness of this gospel.  

There are other times in our lives that are sacred in meaning.  I had the opportunity to attend a concert last night that led to much introspection.  I have mentioned several times on my blog that I suffered with depression and an eating disorder in my past.  During that decade of endless pain and inexpressible hopelessness, I would rely heavily on several music artists and their lyrics to bring me comfort.  One such artist, the Fray, still remains a favorite.  More recently, as I dealt with that nameless breakup, I found strength from music as well.  Kelly Clarkson was one such artist.  Both these artists performed in Bristow at Jiffy Lube Live last night.  I knew it was divine intervention when I won tickets to this concert two months ago.  And now I know why.  

As I sat (actually, mostly stood) at the concert last night, I had several memories and emotions arise within me.  My life has, in some aspects, come full circle.  Being able to see and hear these artists live made my heart leap inside of me.  Though apprehensive of my hectic schedule this upcoming fall and winter, I know deep down inside that I will never have to experience the pain of those same struggles again.  This concert reaffirmed this and was the perfect way to end the summer and prepare for school to start.  Even though we may feel ill-equipped to handle difficult situations, we can seek for the support and guidance of our Heavenly Father.  He, in turn, will show His hand in the details of our lives.  I know this.  I testify of this.

Dedicated to My Brothers

I love to blog.  There is a sense of relief when I can share my thoughts, ramblings, and "aha moments" with you.  Your genuine comments and support are worth so much to  me.  In turn, I love to read your insights and commentary on life.  I recently read this blog post written by a woman and mentor that I have always looked up to.  In turn, I was inspired to write a little of my opinions on the topic of the oh so memorable high school years.

My younger brother is starting his senior year of high school this fall.  I have watched his high school years with 20/20 hindsight, peering into what high school seems to be and in turn seeing it as it really is, with my perspective as a 5th year college student.  

My biggest concern with high school students is that they have little to no perspective.  Should the high school athletes who punished you in gym class for your lack of athletic ability really affect your view of yourself, extending beyond the realm of the 90 minute gym period?  Will that score of a 2 on the AP Lang exam really make a difference in when you graduate college?  Will your friends hate you forever because of that time you said you couldn't hang out?  

The overarching advice I have for all three scenarios:  It doesn't really matter.  Life extends beyond those 4 years.  For some, they are the best years of their lives, and what a tragedy!  Life has so much to offer.  Once you realize that experience and perspective beget confidence, you have a wiser and sturdier head on your shoulders.  

If I look back at my high school days, I am a little traumatized.  I lost my identity half way through high school, having my parents pull the plug on my ballet career.  But with confidence, I can say life gets better.  The perm (yes, a perm in 2005), the braces, the breakouts, and even the perfect GPA are all things I regret.  The drama of those years wasn't a choice I made, but the fact that I let myself get so absorbed in it was.  Life moves on, even when you don't want it to.  

I look at my life now, and though it can be and will always be rough at times, I would never give away my appreciation for the things that have improved.  Because of those awful growing up years, I am here, alive, and willing to try a little harder to gain eternal perspective.

Please Remind Me Who I Really Am

There are so many things in this life that get us down.  Some are trivial, others seem beyond our threshold.  However, all pain is relative to the person who is suffering and therefore every suffering is painful.  

A week or two before my sister's wedding, I overheard the wedding planner ask, "Mackenzie doesn't have a date?  Really?"  Depending on the circumstances, it could have been interpreted in a different light, but I heard this: "Mackenzie doesn't have anyone to love her.  Pathetic."  I've struggled for the past 4 months with feeling alone.  So alone.  I'm still struggling with a traumatic break-up.  My mind runs a million miles a minute when I'm alone.  Why did he cheat?  Why did he lie?  Why didn't he care?  I thought he was the one.  The demons from my past creep inside my ear and whisper things that aren't true, but seem so luring at the time.  I can sit and dwell on the past, (which I admit I do more than not) or I can push myself.  Test the voices within.  

I taught a lesson for my Relief Society sisters on the first Sunday of the month.  I was prompted to teach on self-esteem and divine worth.  I shared the audio of this video:

I then asked the women how they overcome Satan's push to make us feel less than we are.  The answers were beautiful.  One in particular stood out to me.  The sister said that as she sits in the Celestial room in the temple, she looks in the beautiful, enormous mirror and sees her reflection.  There, in that setting, with the Spirit so strong she can see what the Lord sees in her.  

There are many times when I wish the cloud of forgetfulness would disappear so that I can see what the Lord sees in me.  I need to be reminded everyday that I am a daughter of our Heavenly Father.  I have great worth through the divine mission that I am here on this earth to carry out.  

On a more secular note, as I was getting ready this morning, I looked in the mirror, trying to put my eyeliner on and this song was playing:

It made me realize that everyone has their trials, many of them come from no fault of their own.  We have to learn to love them.  And someday, my prince will come, seeing me for who I really am, reminding me of who I really am.

I Love to See the Temple

Saturday is my sister's wedding.  In some ways, we're all ready for it to be over.  The endless nights of staying up late to prepare, the fights, and the stress, are getting to us.  In other ways, we are holding back the tears when we'll have to hand her over.  The fact that my sister will no longer be exclusively mine hasn't even sunk it yet.  There is no doubt in my mind that she will be a beautiful bride.  She and Cameron have really grown together over the past few months and I applaud Cameron for being able to handle Courtney when she gets tired, or hungry, or stressed.  I thought I would be the only one who could calm her down.  Yet, Cameron might have surpassed my sisterly abilities.  

Over the past little while, there have been a lot of questions concerning the wedding ceremony which will take place in the Latter-day Saint Washington, D.C. Temple Saturday morning.  It may seem strange to those not familiar with our faith that many close friends and even some family members cannot go inside the temple to see the ceremony.  Having grown up in the Church, I wouldn't have weddings any other way.  A temple wedding is sacred and eternal.  Temples are dedicated buildings set aside for the administration of sacred ordinances and the making of sacred covenants.  Temples are where some of the most profound knowledge has and will be received, both personal and general, pertaining to God's plan.  

Though I have not been through the temple and will not be able to see my sister be sealed for time and all eternity, I have a testimony of temples.  As I've mentioned in previous posts, I struggled with an eating disorder and severe depression for over a decade.  During some of my darkest moments, the only thing that kept me living was the promise and hope the temple brings.  I keep my eye to the temple, for I know that someday I will be blessed to enter its walls.  The Prophet Thomas S. Monson said, "Those who understand the eternal blessings which come from the temple know that no sacrifice is too great, no price too heavy, no struggle too difficult in order to receive those blessings."  The struggles and burdens I carried were overcome.

Congratulations Courtney and Cameron.  I love you both!

My Wish

I lost a fellow fighter in the battle against eating disorders and depression earlier this month.  Elizabeth Metcalf died May 18th.  I found out May 24th.  It has been so difficult.  Nights of tears and desperate cries of "why not me?!" have filled the past week.  

We met in a treatment setting a year and a half ago.  Though she was almost 20 years my senior, it was uncanny how alike we were at the time.  We slowly parted ways--one of us died in the eating disorder, the other lives to tell the tale.  

Left to Right: Kaitlyn, Elizabeth, and Me

NEDA Awareness Week Walk February 2011

How do I show the world that eating disorders are serious?  How do I re-dedicate my life to recovery?  How do I allow Elizabeth to inspire me and in turn, inspire those with whom I come in contact?  My goal is to go from ballet studio to ballet studio in the area, inspiring dancers not only to realize the severity of eating disorders but to encourage them to dance from their whole being, in spite of the negativity in the dance world.  I am working with a mental health clinician to develop a sort of outreach program that focuses on eating disorder awareness in the dance setting while at the same time promoting a love for dance.

Though my efforts may never gain mainstream attention, I know that even with each blog post I write, someone is affected.  Elizabeth, your dream was to never be ashamed of being in recovery.  The least I can do is to stop living in silence about my struggles with anorexia and depression and success in overcoming them.

When I was at Center for Change, we would sing "My Wish" by Rascal Flatts to each patient as they moved on to greater things at the time of their discharge.  I can't listen to it without tears gushing from my eyes.  

Elizabeth, this is for you...

We Uplift

As I look back over the past week, I see a community.  Not the kind with HOA rules and regulations.  Nor the kind where you have to pay your dues. I see a community where people use their proverbial assets to uplift and strengthen each other without any expectations.  Let me explain...

My thoughts on the subject stem from a selfless act of service.  It was a drizzly, no good day.  A small group of friends and I were in the car, on the way to see the Avengers. Mind you, I had two grown men in the back of my car.  They were grinning from ear to ear because a dear friend of mine and I had agreed to first, let them come along, and second, change our movie pick from a chick flick to the Avengers.  Once we were on our way, one of the guys in the backseat got a phone call.  It was from a friend who unexpectedly found herself in the emergency room.  Without a moment's hesitation, he gave up his only night off work early to drive almost a half hour away plus the additional time in rush-hour traffic to offer a Priesthood blessing.  Priesthood holders who are willing and worthy to serve are a blessing in the lives of so many.  I admire their humility, charity, and selflessness.  In the end, he spent the night with his friend in the ER.  He "slept" in a suit and tie and woke up early to drive another half hour to work without any complaint.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm one of the only people who knows about his sacrifice.

The next day was horrible for me.  Old wounds were opened, bad news delivered, and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and inadequacy set in.  Looking for support is new for me, and I must admit I am very awkward when I seek help.  I called my best friend, whom I know will be in my life forever, through thick and thin.  She mourned with me, she tried her best to bear my burdens, and comforted me in ways that only a best friend knows how.  She truly uplifted me.  "Mackenzie, don't be afraid to make life better for yourself."  That sentence has pushed me through a continuing difficult week.  She spent over an hour on the phone with me and finally got me to laugh.  I am grateful for good friends who pick up and listen to your woes and then are able to get you to smile when you really don't want to.

Sunday rolled around and I once again gave a lesson to a room full of people.  The lesson went well, but I still was shaking and sweating a little after church ended.  As I drove home, I realized the immense amount of pollen on my windshield.  As I went to turn on the windshield wiper fluid, I saw a small card tucked away in my wipers.  The moment I arrived at home, I opened it.  It was an anonymous letter of appreciation and love.  Though I will probably never know who it is from, I know it was guided by a prompting of the Spirit.  Another moment of uplift and strength.  The beneficiary had no idea how awful my week was and how worthless I felt.  However, she knew just what to write and when I needed it.  Thank you to whoever that special person is.  

Amidst the trials and turmoils in this world, there are people who uplift and elevate us to levels that we could not reach on our own.  I love the goodness of God manifest in people.  They are truly angels on earth.  

Reflexes

I was blessed with the opportunity to volunteer during my assigned shift at Inova Fairfax Hospital for Children on Saturday.  I was pulled into a patient's room to feed a 2 week old infant a bottle.  This may seem normal considering I do volunteer every week, many times holding infants.  However, this was an incredible experience.  This baby had been fed through an NG tube all 14 days of his life.  I was to be the first to feed him a bottle.  The moment the nipple touched his lips, he knew exactly what to do.  Mind you, a baby's first sucking for food is usually is not successful.  The nurse told me if the baby could not finish his bottle in 15 minutes, the rest would have to go through the NG tube.  Within 10 minutes, he had sucked the whole bottle down.  During this tender moment I smiled, looked at the nurse and said, "It's amazing the reflexes and instincts babies are born with."  

That experience, as is oft the case, has been on my mind this week.  As a result, I've thought about the reflexes and instincts that I have carried with me since birth.  Not necessarily the tangible survival instincts, but the unseen ones.  My natural instinct when something goes wrong is to crawl into a fetal position and sleep--sleep until I can wake up with a clean slate of a mind.  Sometimes, rather, my reflex is to fake it.  Put on a smile and be there for the people that need me.  These are just as crucial to my physical survival.  Without them, I would feel overwhelmed.  I am an introvert.  I am insecure.  I doubt myself and my abilities.  Because of these things, my instincts and reflexes act to protect me.  While there are better ones out there, these innate responses have served me for the past 21+ years.  I look back at the dark abysses they have pulled me from, I realize they no longer serve the same purpose they once did.  I have progressed beyond the point of crawling under covers every time I feel inadequate.  I am learning, slowly but surely, that I can seek a helping hand.  I can turn to beloved friends and family for help, support and love.  I do not have to carry my burdens on my own.  

This past week I was explaining a recent and monumental event (that I should be elated about) in my family's life to a dear friend.  I then began to relay difficult emotions surrounding the event to her.  She stopped me and emphatically said, "Mackenzie!  I don't know how you do it.  'Event X' has a occurred right at the most inopportune time.  You must be an emotional wreck." Tears began to fill my eyes.  She had nailed it right on the head.  No longer was there the need to hide it anymore.  

There is no time limit to pain.  I can cry and not feel ridiculous.  I can seek help and support and not allow the expectation of "you should be over this by now" overwhelm me.  I can still take time to hurt.  I look back a few years, even just a few months, and realize that my instinct would have been to shut my mouth and hide in my bed.  But oh how much better it feels to reach out and receive help in return!

Instincts come and go.  Try rubbing your finger against an adult's cheek.  He or she won't root, seeking for food.  Rooting doesn't stay with us for life.  Perhaps the personal, intangible instincts I've been carrying with me since birth have reached their allotted time.  Progression needs to occur.  I can grow and develop, one catastrophe at a time. 

The Busiest Days

The busiest days tend to be the days where I have a million things on my mind and there's no way I can get anything done unless I take care of those things which are on my mind.  Case in point: I have a  midterm exam worth 25% of my International Politics grade tomorrow as well as a paper that is worth 20% of my English grade due tomorrow.  And yet, I have so much on my mind I can't focus on studying.  

To sum everything up in one foul swoop, I'm posting this amazing video.  It is a presentation I attended by Stephanie Nielson over a year and a half ago.  She is such an amazing woman.  The topic which she addresses envelops so many of my thoughts and emotions today.  If we could all see, and believe, what we are meant to be and what our Heavenly Father sees in us, I think so much of our inner turmoil would be solved.


Her speech in this video is unique in that she is addressing a mostly Latter-day Saint audience and is able to discuss those sacred doctrines and principles of the Gospel that are universal and at the same time so personal to each of us.  It is a little long, but totally worth it!  If you don't have much time to watch, at least listen to the last 10-ish minutes if possible.  Ms. Nielson is such an example and inspiration to me of what true beauty means.

Stephanie Nielson: Finding and Loving Your Beauty

Thank You for Teaching Me Beautiful Things

I made it a little more than obvious that I am emotionally struggling in my last blog post.  Just a day later, I was trying ever so hard to be happy.  It was exhausting.  I was co-teaching a dozen or so little beginning ballet students and they somehow knew how to make me feel inadequate at what I was doing.  Then, with just 10 minutes left in the class, a little dancer who is struggling in learning ballet came up and gave me a huge hug around my hips, smiled up at me and said, "Thank you for teaching me beautiful things, Miss Mackenzie!"

As the week continued, I kept thinking of that sweet little face and sincere, unprompted comment.  Even amidst the high level of emotional dysfunction I experienced this week, I couldn't let this image go.  Today I spent 3 hours at Inova Fairfax Hospital for Children.  As I walked out to my car in the warm 70 degree sunlight, I was beaming.  A long, hard 2 weeks had ended with a perfect close.  I hadn't even noticed it until it was almost too late.  I opened my car door and, instead of collapsing on the steering wheel, I held my head high and my shoulders back.  My mind turned to heaven.  I thanked my Heavenly Father for His goodness and mercy.  I thanked Him most of all for teaching me beautiful things.  

Through the heartache and depression and doubts, I have grown closer to my mother.  I have leaned on friends--friends that I know will always be there throughout my life.  I have learned how to get my needs met, specifically how to ask for support and love and help.  I have seen that thoughts are thoughts; actions are actions.  They are not one in the same.  

The late Prophet of my church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Gordon B. Hinckley said, "The best antidote I know for worry is work. The best cure for weariness is the challenge of helping someone who is even more tired. One of the great ironies of life is this: He or she who serves almost always benefits more than he or she who is served."

I am grateful for the speed at which information can be shared in this day and age.  I saw this video pop up on facebook from one of my friends.  I love it.  It is perfect.

Considering the frequency at which individual discouragement comes, it can be easy to forget all that is beautiful and good.  We cannot let this happen.  Focus on the light, no matter how small, focus on the light.   Focusing on eliminating the darkness will only give power to it.  Work on increasing the light.  Losing yourself in service to another is one way to do so, until eventually there is enough light to provide life and hope.  Trust me.  I've lived through this time and time again.  Light will always outgrow the darkness if you cultivate and nurture it.  

Take Time to Hurt

My heart is hurting.  A hurt that I know everyone goes through.  And yet it feels so personal and goes so deep that I can't seem to think anyone knows what I'm feeling.  The details will be spared.  I want to focus on realizing we can all take time to hurt.  There is no way anyone can fully heal if they don't take time to acknowledge the pain and allow themselves time to grieve.  Healing will come.  I may not believe it right now, but I know it is true.  I know the Atonement of Jesus Christ covers every heartache.  I know the Atonement will help me through this seemingly insurmountable trial in my life.

Over the past week I have been so emotional it has truly inhibited by ability to notice the beauty that surrounds all of us.  I was sitting in Church this past Sunday, tissues in hand to make sure no one could tell my makeup was slowly being washed away.  I felt a little finger tap my shoulder.  I ignored it.  I felt two little fingers tap my shoulder.  Again, I ignored it.  Finally after a third and fourth attempt, I turned around.  A handsome young boy had been so desperately trying to get my attention.  I smiled as big as I could and let out a big "Hi!"  As I turned my attention back to the speaker, I heard his sweet voice say, "Mom!  She said hi!"  His mother replied, "See?  It isn't so hard, is it?"

While my argument that we need to take time to hurt still stands, we should not and cannot allow our hurt to stop us from realizing there is good in the world.  It is so easy to become jaded during moments of hurt.  I am guilty of this.  Had I allowed my hurt to fully envelop me that day, I would have certainly affected someone.  Just not in the way anyone would hope.  That little boy's social experiment would have failed.  Just as happiness is contagious, so is sadness.

There have been a few moments over the past week that I cannot afford to forget or label as "coincidences."  They are proof that a loving Heavenly Father has not left me alone.  These little "God winks" are there for us to realize He is still there.  Maybe not in the way we would hope.  But, He is still there.  There is beauty in knowing this.  While knowing this isn't a cure-all antidote for the hurt I am feeling, it does give me hope.  An enduring hope that beauty does not disappear even in times of trial.  We just have to have the eyes to see it and the hearts to hold it.  

Don't Take Yourself So Seriously!

Tears slowly dripped down my cheeks as I drove home after an exhausting day filled with academic critiques and a full night of dance lessons.  These tears were an 180 degree change from the tears that slowly dripped down my cheeks just 3 1/2 hours earlier beneath my bug-eyed shades protecting me from the late afternoon sun.  

Earlier in the day, it occurred to me that this week is National Eating Disorder Awareness Week.  I immediately had an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for where I am in relation to where I've been.  After a decade long battle with an eating disorder, I was supposed to be just another statistic.   I was supposed to be another victim who lost all meaning and purpose in life.  However, I was told last week by a treatment provider that I "beat the odds."  I am now a face of survival and hope and recovery in a world with such disheartening views and prognoses of eating disorders.  Courage, strength, and perseverance were heralded to my name.  Yet, I can only see these attributes in those who could have so easily given up on me and given in to my disorder.

Tonight my mindset changed drastically as I drove home.  The comfort of negative self-talk crept back in to my mind.  I drove almost half way from Warrenton to my home in Fairfax before I realized what I was doing to myself.  It's so much easier to give in to the negativity the world bombards us with than to fight it all.  Hadn't I just been reminded that I have proven I have  the ability to overcome such maladaptive habits?

I've been thinking a lot over the past few weeks of an experience I had recently.  I had been called into dance early to provide the Artistic Director of the studio with music for her class.  As she plugged in my iPhone to the stereo, the last song I had listened to blasted from the speakers.  It's a ridiculous song, one that I love to dance to while I get ready in the morning.  The class of 10 or so little ballerinas quickly exchanged their proper posture and pristine 5th positions for hip-hop dance moves at the first note of the song.  What's to learn from this experience?  Don't take yourself so seriously that you miss out on the oft-times imperfect yet exhilarating chances life throws you.

As I drove the rest of the way home I realized that it's okay to have an upsetting moment or even a horrendous day.  Just don't take it so seriously!  Enjoy the next random event that is given to lift your spirits and your smile.  :)

Sometimes It's All So Surreal

Progression.  It's something we all think we want.  It seems so fine and dandy before we have to actually go through the process of growing.  I know I've felt those "growing pains" of changing into something new and better.  Hey, it's tough work!   In the end, progression has turned into something we realize we've wanted all along.  

I've written so much on my own personal progression and now I want to dally in the progression of those who have helped me progress.

Once in a while you develop a friendship with someone who you feel you've known before this life began.  Mayra is one of those.  We met at the young age of 18 as we both entered our freshman year at Brigham Young University-Provo.  We lived a few doors down from each other.  From that first orientation day when I couldn't figure out how the spelling of "Mayra" could sound like "Mida," to being her Maid of Honor in what couldn't have been a more beautiful day, and then to bawling my eyes out in pure joy after the news that she is now going to be a mother (to a precious little girl at that!) we have grown so much.  I have never met a more mature, gracious, classy young woman.  Sometimes it's all so surreal.  Surreal in the sense that her dream is finally coming true.  Just a handful of months left!

Reflecting on the impact friends' progressions have had on me would not be complete without mentioning Jenn.  Jenn has always been a support.  Not only emotionally, but mentally.  She always finds a way to add a whole new dimension of humor to my day.  There are some things that seem impossible, insurmountable.  But for Jenn, there are no brick walls.  She has found her way through every challenge.

One day I hope I can have the effect on someone that so many have had on me.  One day I hope I can have attributes others admire.  I hope I can say to others, "You too can do this."  Someday.  And somedays this process of progression all seems so surreal.  

Teach Me Somewhere

How grateful am I for inspiring friends and righteous influences in my life!  I look back at the past year, or even 6 months, and am in awe of how far I've come.  It has not been on my merits alone, but on those who have born my burdens, who have lifted me, and who have been examples and inspirations in my life.

I love the hymn, "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing."  During a listen this morning, I heard the phrase, "Teach me somewhere."  Now, I must admit that I am not gifted at understanding people when they sing.  What I heard was, as usual, not what the lyrics read.  What is really written is "Teach me some melodious sonnet."  But, "Teach me somewhere" struck a chord with me so I will continue my post on that phrase.  Throughout the past week, my emotions have been near the surface and my heart has been full.  I was faced with a rather unexpected and difficult circumstance for which I was greatly unprepared.  How often do we ask to be taught in life, expecting it to be appreciated on all levels and for it to be a blessing and not a trial?  Some know, or have surmised, that I have struggled with an eating disorder and depression for a large part of my life.  I have always yearned to be taught and yet I would never have considered those trials to be the Lord's answer to my plea, "Teach me somewhere, Lord."  Now, over a decade later, I see it.  I see that I had to struggle with something so fatal and so devastating.  Of all the things I have learned about myself, my limits, my weaknesses, my interactions with others, and such, I want to share this one, most important lesson:

God has a plan for us.  

I know in His infinite wisdom, He knew I could overcome and manage my struggles, with the help of heaven.  I can see things coming together now, clearer than ever before.  I know my Heavenly Father loves me and has trusted me with these experiences for in His omnipotence and omniscience.  

Come, Thou Fount

All Things Denote There is a God

As I look back on my posts over the past year, I reflect on the multitude of change and growth I have undergone.  My only regret is that I neglected to note the source of my growth and the foundation for my change.  

I worked this past week on preparing a lesson for the Gospel Essentials class I teach every 3rd Sunday at church.  The subject material was beautiful.  It was perfect.  It was on our Father in Heaven. The material in the manual and study guide was nothing foreign or new to me.  I've been raised a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints my whole life.  But, the thoughts and insights I had while preparing the lesson are what are profound.  I shared several personal experiences in the lesson that I wish to share here.  I know those who read this blog will respect them and hopefully feel of my sincerity as I write them.

While I was at BYU, most of the days were dark and cold, as I never stayed for the spring or summer terms.  I would frequently find myself walking back to my apartment, wishing I could make the trip faster.  On several occasions, I found myself looking at the sidewalk, wishing my life was different.  Then I would notice the flowers.  No matter the season, there are always flowers.  These flowers bore witness to me that all things denote there is a God.  If we but have eyes to see and hearts to feel, I know we can feel of our Father's love.  Through His Son, Jesus Christ, He created the world we live in.  He created the night sky, the perfect order of seasons, the spider and her web, the rushing sound of water, and even the wildflowers.  Certainly He loves His children.

Just last year I spent a few hours one day volunteering at Inova Fairfax Hospital for Children. I spent the majority of my time with a very needy boy.  I left that evening feeling inadequate and powerless.  During my drive home,  I heard the words, "You are worth more than you know."

I know, without a doubt, that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me.  He has given me all I have.  He has provided a way for us to live with Him again. If we could all see a glimpse of what lays in wait for us, we would have no reason to be sorrowful. We must remember where we came from and where we are headed.  He loves us. If we but recognize all things denote there is a God, we will see His loving hand guiding us and reminding us of our royal heritage and divine potential.

I pray that I may have the increased resolve this year to recognize God's hand even more as I draw near unto Him.