square one

I've been doing so good lately. I feel like I finally found my people (outside the semi-annual comic con in salt lake). I've been making friends. I have game nights with some of the most stellar girls I've had the pleasure of meeting. I've been more social the past couple of months then I ever been in my entire life. It's been AWESOME. I think this is why kids liked high school. I've cut ties to the people with emotionally parasitic relationships and have been really good about keeping it all together. Then there was yesterday.

The hardest part about dealing with everything is something I don't really talk about. Not really even on my blog or with really close friends. It's still too hard. Even after all this time (Great, now my eyes are uncontrollably vomiting). It literally makes me feel sick to my stomach. I lost someone I can't get over. It still keeps me up at night, the things I never said from when I was about twelve years old. It's not a relationship that can be repaired and it is soul wrenching. It's why I'm such a loud bold person now, I can't let it go and I don't want anything else to leave me feeling like this. 

Yesterday has left me numb, I'm waiting for the back slide to take me back to square one. I'll start all over again. Yesterday an ex-relative who chose a pedophile over me showed up at my work (coincidentally, he wasn't trying to find me), I knew he was coming in so I was going to leave early. He however decided to drop in WAY before his eta (you know over 5 hours early). The father of the only person who I miss enough to cry over anymore. I ran upstairs and avoided him (it was either that or go to jail for stabbing him in his stupid motherfing eyes), but I could hear him and he said something that completely devastated me. I'm surprised at how well I've been doing but next Tuesday is going to be really really hard. I don't have any more emotional energy to talk about this. I'm not sure I'll ever bring it up again. I know that the people who know me are probably like:

"WHY YOU VAGUEBOOKING?"

(I only know how to deal with my feelings through memes.)

But I just feel like I've made so much progress and life has just knocked me on my ass and is trying to push me back to a place I don't want to be in. It doesn't even feel real, being confronted with one of the only things that is close enough to something that can really hurt me.  I honestly don't know what to say, life feels like a really sick joke right now. 

Memes would be appreciated. Because I just feel like I can't win right now. I know that's not true. I know I'm going to be okay. But for right now I'm not. So I'm going to take some time to get back up from this. Normally I can bounce back up easily, not this. It's like I just took a bullet...

If I randomly lose my shit, you know why. If I randomly lose it and people haven't read this I feel bad for them. I hope someday all of my feelings are replaced by doctor pepper and pizza. Being a robot sounds really good right now. Unfortunately that probably won't happen. So I'm just going to double my brooding time for a couple days and Gotham is just going to have to take care of itself for a minute. If you need me I'll be reading comics underneath a pile of blankeys (Do I sound five? Yup. Do I care? No.). 

Please don't need me. I don't have anything left to give anyone for a couple days except the effort I'm putting into being a decent human being when people have to interact with me. SEND ME MEMES.

(Okay universe, I owe you one. Just as I was about to publish this my best friend called me. My day just got a little better.)

Anniversary

This is not for everyone. If you are in a bad place or have been deeply affected by suicide or thoughts of suicide you may want to skip this one. :)

*Que the Bee Gees stayin' alive as background music*

I'm twenty years old (I'll need to pick out a nursing home so recommendations would be greatly appreciated). I cannot believe I made it here. Five years ago if you had asked me where I thought I'd be now I'd probably just cry, I'd never say it by my answer would be six feet under.
I remember when I got to my sixteenth birthday party I had the thought "I'm so glad I didn't kill myself." I still struggled after the fact, but I made it. Which is a little terrifying, for so long I didn't know if I could handle another week on the planet, looking years into the future is really intimidating. But even if I spend the rest of my life accomplishing nothing but eating chicken nuggets, it'll be a life worth getting through. (Money can absolutely buy happiness, has anyone had honey mustard before?!)

There were days where I would cry myself to sleep knowing I'd wake up in the morning. Even breathing would ache.  Every day I'd wake up and stumble through the endless hours. I didn't ever tell anyone, although looking back I was basically the sophomore version of a Taylor Swift album so someone probably caught on. Because I was afraid. I knew if I told my therapist they were legally obligated to act on it, I knew if I told my mom I'd end up in the hospital and I'd only be further behind in a life that I hated. I couldn't bear the thought of catching up when I could barely live in the moment. I didn't say anything because I didn't want people to treat me differently. I just didn't want to be me anymore, but I knew perfectly well I couldn't be someone else.

Although I have taken steps to deal with it, my PTSD has caused me to have nightmares for years. They're a lot better now, or at least I've adjusted to them. I used to be actually afraid to go to sleep. I'd tell my family good night and go down to my room only to sneak back upstairs to the kitchen and silently sit on a chair watching the oven clock tick by until three or four in the morning when I would actually start to involuntarily fall asleep. I'd dream things that I'll remember for the rest of my life. All of the my worst fears realized over and over again. Seeing absolutely everything I cared about crushed into dust while I had absolutely no control, and no matter how hard I tried I could never change anything. I didn't know what sleep paralysis was at the time, so I didn't know what to do about these 'real' experiences. The worst episode I ever had ended after I had clawed my throat in my sleep until it was raw and bled. I was so shaken up I didn't dare leave my bed or turn off my light. I sat against my headboard for the rest of night waiting for hours so that morning would come and someone could come rescue me.

For countless nights I tried to rationalize my pain by asking myself "Is the worst thing that could happen to you waking up in the morning?" my answer was always yes. I'd try to reassure myself and every night tell myself "Ask yourself again tomorrow." I to reminded myself what it was like when someone I knew died from suicide. I tried to fight the feelings of worthlessness. Every night at bed I would write a letter to someone I loved explaining why I had to go. I didn't want to leave anyone with questions, or why's. I started writing to people who had influenced me and people I barely knew. I don't know how many months I kept this up before I decided I couldn't take it anymore.  I went up into the kitchen in the early morning and poured all my sleeping pills into my hand. I got myself a glass of water and recalled what the past years had been like. What I might miss. Then I thought about how I would just go to sleep, how there wouldn't be another thing to bother me. It sounded like bliss.

Then I thought of my wonderful brothers. What if my mom tried to get me up and sent down one of my little brothers to get me up? What kind of trauma would they deal with for the rest of their life that I had selfishly caused them? I considered walking up into the foothills, but it was freezing. I didn't want to die uncomfortably. My mind told me "You're even to cowardly to kill yourself, you deserve every second of suffering you have. You can't even end it." I cried as I put the pills back. The hardest decision of my life was marked solely by an almost inaudible clicking as the capsules fell back into their plastic tube. I went back to bed, because even though I hated myself I decided to stay alive for someone else. I felt like I had already died inside. Things couldn't get worse and I had gone this long already.

I decided to get through it. Maybe I could do something right and stick around so I wouldn't mess anything else up. I kept writing letters to people around me, it was incredibly painful but it also helped me realize who I might effect, who might miss me. I'd write about how I hoped they'd end up. That they should name one of their kids Bruce. How I knew they would make other people laugh. That I was proud of the person that they were becoming. After that I could see why I should stick around to tell them all of those things in person, and not let them guess about what might've happened. I still have most of them tucked away in a journal. Right now they're to painful to look at, but I'm glad that I have them. The thing that kept me going was realizing I had a lot in my life to value even if I didn't value myself. On the flip side I've kept every nice thing anyone has ever given me, It was something physical I could see that people spent time to think of me. I finally got rid of the notes my friends gave me in junior high this year. They gave me something to hold on to, to love the people around me. Without writing and receiving those letters I really don't think I would be here.

I'm 100% sure my life will never be that hard again. Now I know I can get through anything, because I have (that doesn't make me sound cliche or like an arrogant jack-ass at all...). I was able to make it passed the things I thought would destroy who I was. Things I didn't want to make it through. Times where I felt completely alone. That doesn't mean life isn't hard. That doesn't mean I don't have really bad days where I want to hurt myself again. That doesn't mean I'll ever sleep easy. What it means is that I'm always going to be able to see something that's worth sticking around for. Because no matter how I feel about myself, or what my depression tells me, I'm going to be able to look around me and see goodness in what's around me.

Gaining that perspective is how I make it. I feel like that's how most people who consider taking their own life make it. Seeing the value in others eventually lets you see that you have value as well. Realizing people care slowly opens your eyes to your own strengths (Jack Black impersonations, it's my calling). So write down the reasons you have to be happy and grateful. Even though I don't want to say anything remotely mushy (or most the time even nice) I'm going to make sure that I have a reason to consider them. Even though that's seriously gross it keeps me going. For as terrible as the world around me is, there is always a reason to love something about it. That's worth fighting to stick around for.

Syrup runs thicker than water.

I don't know if I'll ever have kids. I wouldn't ask anyone to live the life I've lead. I've been at the end of my rope so many times, I can't imagine being responsible for another human being at the same time. It seems absolutely terrifying to bring someone into this world who you'll love more than anything else, a little vulnerable soul who becomes your life. Who you will help shape and grow and watch them become an adult, to see them innocent and then heartbroken, to see them fail and succeed. I can't imagine the pain and unspeakable joy watching their journey would cause. I'm not sure that I want to know, how could I ever be a good mom? The qualities it takes are so selfless and demanding. I guess if I have a kid that really needs walrus impressions to keep them grounded I'd be alright, I can't speak for anything else though. For the women who have chosen to be mothers, I have the greatest respect. But that doesn't mean women who have had children.

I think being a mother requires so much more than giving someone DNA. It means you have to be a warrior to fight for your children, a teacher to show them what they're capable of, a leader so they know what is wrong and right, and a confidant and friend who will love you unconditionally. Sometimes I meet women who have never had the chance to have children of their own, or cannot, but it doesn't stop them from nurturing and raising the people around them. They help so many people grow and set them up for success. That definitely earns them the title of mother (or as I like to call them bonus moms). Sadly I know so many DNA donors who are not mothers. They disprove the whole 'blood runs thicker than water' phrase. I think that's what makes me so proud of my mom, she has shown me family is much more than blood. 

For those of you who don't know my mom broke her back and her neck when I was 12. It should've killed her. She didn't even end up paralyzed. It's an incredible miracle and granted me a second chance to love her and value what she's given me. I know I still do, but I try my best to never take her for granted because I know that life is unpredictable. I'm trying to love her like every day is the last I'll have with her, because for a moment in my life I thought that might come true. Maybe people think I'm a little too attached to my mom, honestly we could be handcuffed together forever for all I care. She is the most miraculous woman I know. Together we're two halves of a whole idiot (it's our catch phrase, it's fine).

She has to deal with tremendous pain everyday. She faces each day with a smile and courage. Despite the metal in her body literally causing her to ache she stays positive and loving. She doesn't let her injury stop her from trying new things, she is so brave. She has the most beautiful soul, and even when I'm irritated with her for being a little bit too much like Dr. Phil (5 years of a therapy does a number on ya) I know that it comes from love and kindness. I can't imagine my life without her. If she wasn't my mom I honestly don't think I wouldn't still be here. I can't see anyone I know being able to give me the strength she has.

She listens to my thoughts and lame jokes, lets me share my passions even though she has almost no idea what I'm talking about. She's taught me standing up for what's right is more important than anything else. Despite the tremendous loss in her life she is strong and fights for the truth. She cares so deeply about the people around her. If I ended up even a little like my mom I would be proud. Her mom didn't choose her. but she knows how to choose me. Her entire family abandoned her, and yet she isn't bitter and raising her own. She still has so much faith in people. It's beautiful.

She is without a doubt my inspiration, my sidekick, and my example. She is the reason I have such passion, the reason I'm not just a phenomenal douche bag (at least not all the time...), and the reason I learned to get back up. She started me down a path I know I will be able to be proud of. While I'm not even close to being a super hero I have a mom who could raise one. 

Dates are a fruit.

I have a lot of stuff I want to talk about, most of it is heavy and unpleasant but not today. It should be super evident that I write from the heart, my grammar and punctuation on these posts are atrocious. I’m glad to see that a whopping 25 of you have read my last post anyway (I’m not kidding that’s a lot). I said I had 100 friends the other day. I have like 300. I even got rid of 15 people who I haven't talked to in a couple years and have 50 unread friends requests I will continue to avoid. Holy shiz balls. I legit have at least mild interest in the well being of 300 people. How did that happen? I get out of my parents basement like twice a month. So I just proved myself a liar. Awesome.

ANYWAYYYYS let’s talk about my incredible talent to ruin dates. Also to generally repel the other sex, far, far away.

It probably has to do with the fact that overwhelm my dates with my walrus impression mad skillz. Or maybe that after gaining some weight, I have a Jay Leno chin. (Seriously, I have a terrible chin/double chin going on, my weight went straight there why????) It could also be that I aspire to be Jack Black and act like Dwight Schrute. I mean, I think being able to quote almost the entire Nacho Libre movie and episodes of the office is awesome. Past that the only thing I can do is fit an entire pancake in my mouth and eat eight tacos in one sitting. All in all I don't have a lot going for me.

We’re not discussing every case, because while it is few, some were actually horrifically embarrassing or really painful. So I’m going to throw out an honorable mention to all the people I’m not going to be talking about. Thank you all for disappointing me so, so much.

To kind of set up this topic, I want to tell you about the time I tried to kiss a boy. You know the movie Hitch? Seemed pretty good to me, straight forward, uncomplicated. Will Smith is the kind of guy I feel like everyone should be learning from. Well a long time ago I was playing night games with my crush. We ended up hiding behind the same bushes. It was quiet and a pretty cozy space with moonlight shining through the leaves on his face. I thought, this seems like a pretty good place to try to kiss someone, private and kind of cute that we both stumbled upon it. Of course I wasn’t thinking that he was cornered and trapped and had no easy way out and we were sitting in branches and wood chips. So I went for it. I went 90 (90% of the way) my heart pounding in my chest, I still had my eyes open because I had never done this before. He didn’t go the 10. I was not planning on this, I had to cover myself quickly, ‘smoothly’ I said “I gotchya!” and then laughed a really sad sounding awkward forced laugh. Ooops.

Rewind about two years ago. I set my friend up with this guy and they hit it off and they went to the velour to see my favorite band. I was pretty excited when they told me I should double  with them. I ended up being set up with his 16 year old cousin from North Dakota who I (luckily) will never see again. He was a nice guy, the hard feelings have nothing to do with him. We went to the velour and I got to see my favorite band and I saw this really cute guy who was not my date. As my friends were weaving through the people starting to leave, I looked at him one last time. We made eye contact then I turned around, he caught up to me and I ended up getting his number, I told him goodbye. I left in a dash and went outside to catch up to everyone, he ran out and said “Wait! I didn’t get your number!” I was MORTIFIED, I should've told him I would text him. Even though I had absolutely no interest in the nice 16 year old cousin with Justin Bieber hair returning to North Dakota in two weeks, I felt sooo bad. The rest of the night was a little painful, you don't come back from that. The night came to an end and my date walked me to my door, he looked at me awkwardly, I expected a hug but he just left. I thought maybe it was because the date was pretty awkward after the velour, then I got inside and looked in the entry mirror. My bra was just out and about for the whole world to see. My shirt had mostly unbuttoned itself and no one had said anything. I have no idea how long I had been exposed. Best feeling ever.

Last year, in the winter months I went out to eat at an Olive Garden (I swear I’m the only person on the planet that thinks it’s overrated) with a group of friends. I wanted to give a waiter with incredible facial hair my number. Medium story short, Our waitress was his fiance.Thank goodness I was able to dash.

Unfortunately this made me so nervous that when in December of last year when I met freaking Derek Morgan. I was waiting in a long line at Costa-Vida, It was then the single best looking human I’ve ever seen got in line behind me. He walked in and I immediately regretted my mildly homeless signature look. The toddler behind me kept smiling at him I thought, yes. Smile at him for all of us. Why god graced the Costa-Vida of pleasant grove at around 6 p.m. on December 15th 2015 I will never know. He smiled and looked at me and said “Isn’t she cute?” All I could do was stutter nervously “yes”. My mom still hadn't found her way in to join me. I tried to collect myself and then I turned around and informed him he could skip me. He asked “Why?... Are you waiting for someone?”

I’M SUCH AN IDIOT. WHY GOD DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME? WHY? HE WAS SHOWING INTEREST IN ME IN MY NATURAL STATE. I CAN’T PICK UP ON ANYTHING.

I couldn’t believe he was talking to me and I said “Yeah... My mom.” I’m a freaking adult and I said I’m waiting on my mom, I coulve said anything but no. I said my mom. He then skipped me and I now understand he probably thought I was a minor. (Okay maybe he wasn’t interested because that would actually be crazy) On the way out HE WAS SITTING BY HIMSELF and I almost wrote on a napkin with my number on it but because of the waiter experience I didn’t do it. I let the most beautiful human I probably will ever see slip through my fingers. I will never forget you Costa-Vida man. Ever. I will name my first child after our brief moment together, he (or she) will be called sweet pork after our matching burritos. He was sitting by the door and on the way out I told him “You’re chromosomes have aligned beautifully.” Then I ran for cover. He laughed and thanked me as I left. That night I downloaded tinder hours later in an attempt to find that fine chocolate man. I remember the khakis he wore, the beanie, his incredible cardigan, the glasses the amazing suede blue oxfords. This is the one time I didn’t say enough.

I thought I found him (costa-boy) at one point and went on a tinder date with Marcus. He started playing footsies with me after he had told me he never wanted to settle down. He then implied he was ready to have kids. Who aspires to be a baby daddy? Really? That still tops most of the dates I’ve been on. He asked me what I was doing that night and I figured out that was an invitation to sleep with him, I’m sure I was quite the spectacle. I didn’t know what to say other than “You really don’t know that much about Mormons, do you?” That was fun.

After being cat-fished and a couple of dates that made me hate humanity a little bit more, I kind of took a break from dating and deleted tinder.

However, on Monday I went on a double (the second or third date of the year) with a friend. Her dad kept trying to set her up with this kid, so I figured I’d go along. Her date ended up reminding me of Michael Scott if he were an RM (returned Mormon missionary) , so that was interesting. I asked this kid I don’t really know, super nice also tall so that’s a plus.  I asked him what he wanted to do with his life and he gave a real answer and then said “Or I’ll be a male prostitute.” He’s pretty funny. I really had a nice time, he was super sarcastic and either laughed or pity laughed at all of my jokes. I was thinking that I did a good job, and that maybe there was a date number two.

I asked him based on his awesome appearance (he’s the same height as batman), then I found his personality made him better. Crazy rare occurrence. I only regretted about 25-30% of what I said, I was at an all time high for confidence post-date. When I was dropping him off I thanked him for coming. I expected him to just hop out, it was pretty casual. However, I was horrified when he gave me a high-five. To be fair it was in the car and I don’t really know him, but honestly doing nothing would have been better.

I’m for sure going to die alone. I got a high five on a date from someone who may become a prostitute. I received a “Hey, at best this was good but please keep your distance.” I had no idea if I should just leave him alone or if I can even talk to him as a friend. That just feels incredibly low.

Just to be sure that I wasn’t imagining the situation, and because I truly can't take hints, I texted him Thursday and told him thanks for coming. He didn’t respond.

It’s fine, I only have a class with him for the rest of the semester.

The whole “boys get rejected more” may be true, but I feel like I should be included in that group. I even have 7 missing hoodies between my friends. I know I’m only 19 (coming up on 20 feels WEIRD) and I don’t need a boyfriend. I thought I would just share the fact that I will probably be the captain of the virgin lips club forever. I’ll be okay, until someone replaces Freddy Krueger he will stay the man of my dreams. I’m going to go join a nunnery to hide all my failures, maybe I’ll see you around.  

Perfectionist.

I have a harmful mindset, it goes something like: If you can't get it exactly right, why try at all?

I've thought that for a long time and then I saw this and it had a HUGE impact on me.      

This is what I think every time I make a choice. I'd rather be an idiot than a coward. Lately, my middle name could either be regret or chicken nuggets, I'm full of both of those things. I'm sure there's some happy medium. I hope someday I can find it. I have been thinking that my self hatred is a thing of the past. But when I closely examine myself, it's so apparent. I sabotage myself all the time, I just don't realize it until after. I kind of joke around, I'll say stuff like "I had self-loathing for breakfast today." or "I'm not in love with myself but I can stand where I am, I am 'okay' with myself." I thought for a long time I've been really strong. But I haven't, I just have used something to distract and deflect my issues. I need to address the fact that my life has been a collection of embarrassing moments broken up by snacks. (Yeah, I stole that line from the internet, but it’s sooo good.)

The dichotomy between wanting to isolate myself so I can never be hurt and wanting to to be kind, to make friends, for people to like me is kind of tearing me apart. I need to put who I really am out there. I can't make it through life if all I ever do is hurt myself.

That gets hard, because I'm a little out there. I answer too honestly, and with too little tact. People aren't used to that, it freaks them out because they've been conditioned their whole lives to ask questions they don't want answers too. Also I laugh at my own jokes wayyyy too hard, I'm the only person who appreciates my morbid humor. But I'm going to try.

Because I'm so tired of thinking about how much I don't like myself. I'm tired of hearing "You are a failure. Who in their right mind would ever love you? No one. That's why you keep losing everyone you care about. You're not worth it. You should ashamed to even show your face." So much like that. I'm fighting an intensely in my brain. It's lasted so long and I'm beyond sick of it. I'm not saying I should think I'm the best thing that's ever happened to this planet, but I should be more proud of the things I do right. Like the number of pizzas I can eat all by myself. Or how I can put food humor In a post about depression and anxiety.

I get so nervous, and when I feel this way I either act like I have so much or so little self-confidence. I’ll share too much or too little, I'm super bubbly or so cold. I feel like I've thrown all my boundaries out a window, living my life like a broken camera lens, with no focus. So I'm going to write this. To remind myself to make more conscious choices. Because growth and comfort don't get along. I need to be braver than I have been.

When I'm by myself at night I lay there and think about all the dumb things I've ever done. I’ve memorised them, seriously I remember stuff from when I was twelve that I can’t get over. It makes me want to smash my brains out on a wall or literally light my past-self on fire. That's how I know I'm not over it, I should be able to forgive myself and move past the points in my life where I hoped I wouldn’t wake up in the morning. But I don't know how. Because even though I KNOW I'm not a worthless person, I still feel it.

Further more I HATE talking about stuff like this it because then people shower me with love, but it feels so artificial. It makes me nauseous, I find I can't trust them anymore. It’s easier to just act fine and be really goofy instead of  actually getting help. Because I just need reality. If someone can call it like they see it, and keep it raw then I appreciate what they have to say. I guess I want people to talk to me the same way as they would before I'm having a hard time. I HATE when people think I'm fishing for compliments, I'm not looking for anyone's pity. Just some of their thoughts. Without re-blogging something I already talked about too much, my ‘family’ in the past was really affectionate. It was all a facade, so I don’t like to show affection. Don’t buy me presents when it’s not a holiday, don’t tell me that you think I’m the sweetest girl you know. Don’t return a compliment just because I gave you one, I only give them (rarely because it’s incredibly difficult for me) if i’m being absolutely genuine. I’m afraid of my life resembling the past and having history repeat itself. When I say something bad about myself, I don't want people to say "no, you're not" because often times it's true. I'm not perfect. I don't want people to pretend that I am. But I feel like I need to talk about this, so here I go anyways.

Lucky me. I feel like I've caught on kind of slowly, but I'm grateful I'm not oblivious to my own bad behaviors. I can be accountable, and have true moments of self realization. I've achieved the first step which is recognizing the problem.

I need to stop pushing people who care about me away, stop 'joking' with them when the stuff I say is REALLY mean. I don't want to deal with my problems, i'd rather eat chips and go into a food coma. However, I need to learn how listen better, I'm so afraid of being alone with myself that I'm constantly spewing word garbage. I need to stop and analyze and really think. I need to be much more careful with what I say and who I say it too. I need to stop expecting perfection from myself. I need realistic, attainable goals. Because while I will never be perfect, if I don't try to be better, I'll be miserable.

I'd really appreciate any ideas on how to change bad thoughts. Not 'go to therapy' I've done that. A lot. Also if you leave a compliment that's overly sappy I WILL unfriend you. For reals, being gushy is GROSS. If you don’t know what to say, but would like to say something, tell me your favorite sauce for your nuggets. We can all bond over the incredible taste of honey mustard.

I appreciate all of you who took the time to read this whole thing. It’s long, redundant, and probably not a shining moment it your day. So, to help you feel a little bit more happy here’s this gem.

Religion

Sometimes, I look at my life and my heart just breaks all over again. I can't bear to get out of bed. I can't do it. The only thing that gives me motivation to move on is the notion of justice after death. I see us embrace, I know that I'll cry happy tears and my heart will be filled with light when I meet Jesus. I know that I will feel good for the rest of forever. I know he truly understands. Which is overwhelming and beautiful but makes me kind of sad because I know that's not something I'll have in my mortal life.

I know that Jesus probobally would never do this, ever. So don't let me taint JC's image for you. But some days when life feels too real I imagine after a wonderful and brief reunion he takes me to a different gate into heaven. Outside is my grandmother, much to my chagrin. The gates open and my heart sinks and she rushes to him. Never acknowledging her willful ignorance. Her lies, her voluntary actions that caused me so much pain. She just lies to herself all the way up to heaven. It's my greatest fear that she will never be caught. She will never acknowledge my suffering. Jesus stops her and is grabbing her arms he is smiling. He then promptly kicks her in the shin and says without breaking any eye contact "You dumb hoe." Yup. I fantasize over a called name and a small kick that will send her reeling into self realization. She will be a mess, and burst into tears. Jesus and I will magically drive away in a beautiful sunset in the bat mobile while flipping her off. That is heaven. That's what gives me hope. I know it's lame, and not very realistic, but at the very least it makes me laugh and puts me in a better mood. I know it will all be well.

Some people would be very offended that I would even think this way about 'the son of god' that this is intolerable and I must seek repentance. The Mormons with sticks up their butts so high, that they can't possibly think about understanding someone else's situation or pain. That's the bad of 'Mormon culture'. Not the doctrine. Most people are not so stupid to think, that my fantasy is as offensive as my grandmother lying and supporting a pedophile. But there are a very very stupid few.

I believe your religion is the relationship you have with god, or whatever you believe in. Saying I'm LDS (Mormon) doesn't really let people know how I feel. Yes I obey the commandments. Yes I'm christian, but you have no idea what I believe. We each have our own beliefs, no two people share the same exact vision of religion/god. I know we're supposed to have a perfect god. But being human I have no real concept of perfection, God is something unknowable. Untangle. Sometimes I think he's a really big jerk. I think that even prophets make mistakes, because they are not god. Don't let someone who titles themselves as a leader, a catholic, or an atheist, lead you to assume something about them. I have seen more Christianity in some Jews than I have in some 'Mormons'.

Utah county Mormon culture can be the farthest thing from christian. It blows my mind that what people really believe is the furthest thing from doctrine I've ever seen. We've been asked by our prophets not to get tattoos or many piercings, we believe our body is a gift from god and we want to treat it respectfully. How we're supposed to handle people who don't follow that commandment is with love and respect. Especially if they're not Mormon, how are they supposed to know?
Instead I've seen so many people quickly judge "Oh, they're going to hell for that." WHAT?!  God has a lot more to deal with than if someone got a picture on their skin. It might not be his favorite, but he has so many bigger fish to fry.

Another would be the a total double standard for modesty, if boys are shirtless it's cool, but if a girls in a bikini top/tank top she is NOT cool. Modesty was created to help avoided being objectified. If someone isn't modest, they aren't asking to be objectified. To those who look down on others for modesty, it's you who modesty was created to try to avoid :) I absolutely hate how at times, I feel Utah county church almost teaches rape culture. That's the most unokay thing in the world.

Not only does it push people away but it makes all Mormons look like assholes. We're not, in fact I'd say the majority have brains and can think before they speak. But the few crazies happen to be loud and ruin it for the rest of us. It's very disappointing. It's just so sad to see people treat swearing or tattoos or someone who drink socially or something small like a it's carnal sin. Something unforgivable.

That's just not the case. Jesus and God love everyone. Period. Some people less than others (murderers, rapists, you know the kind of people who deserve to be cheese grated into oblivion), but still more than any human could possibly fathom.

Jesus freaking loved the sick, the afflicted, the sinners. Jesus was homeless. He loved and forgave a woman who was supposed to be stoned to death. This is our role model, not hatred.

Where did the love from us go?

I really wish that in church we were taught, genuine love and compassion and how to communicate. Not Just Jesus said this, and by the way this is a sin. How you say something is just as important as what you say. I think that leaders don't necessarily know any better, and it's not EVERY leader. But even one person that teaches to shut people out is one too many. I think there should be room for everyone in our chapel.

You look like a scary tattooed biker mo-fo? Come as you are, you are loved for who you are. You're openly gay? Come as you are, you are loved for who you are. You don't know anything about religion and only have jeans? Come as you are, you are loved for who you are.
You're inactive because of some ass hole in a leadership position that destroyed your faith in humanity? Me too. It's hard but it's okay. Come as you are, you are loved for who you are.
Don't EVER be rude to someone who's left the church. Even if they are rude, even if they say things that break your heart (Be the bigger person). You don't know why they left.

I know a girl who confessed to her bishop she was date raped by a missionary who was at the time serving on a mission. He called up the missionary who told him it was consensual. The bishop demanded she repent. She left the church. She is a good person. She doesn't need your disapproval.

My bishop (from a long time ago) showed up to my hearing. He was there to support the pedophile. I will never forget what he looked like, what he said. I almost couldn't go anymore. I almost couldn't believe.

I know an incredible woman whose husband, who was supposed to be her companion for eternity. Left her and their child crying in their drive way and left his family for his wife's best friend. They then showed up pregnant at church with each other and this incredible woman had her recommend taken away for being too angry. Honestly I have words for her old bishop. There is no commandment about anger, but he seemed to disregard the one for adultery. She doesn't need your opinion of her choice to leave. She needs love, she needs to be shown she is wanted here.

I know a man who moved because the leadership and some of the neighbors in his ward supported his ex-wife who plead guilty to being a sex abuser of their foster children. I wouldn't be surprised if he never came back.

Regardless if the issues are handled or not, sometimes its' really hard to come back. Hopefully if you report something like this to someone higher up they will deal with it. But sometimes it's so traumatic and trust is so betrayed that you just can't. It doesn't matter that they've learned their lesson. That they apologized. Because the damage is already done. Because you can't trust whose been appointed 'by the lord'. Statistically the church does fairly well with dealing those who misuse their power but their policies MUST be updated. There should be MORE training for bishops, including some actual therapist coming in telling them this is what you do if abuse is reported. There should be SEVERE consequences if they disobey the rules, there should be PUBLIC apology. (Homies up in the church head quarters, contact me so you know what the people who have been burned want. Also if you have more questions on these incidents. It's not unreasonable. We just don't want to feel like garbage that the church stopped caring about.) To be fair, the church has done a pretty gosh darn good job of taking care of issues if you look at the stats, but even one issue unresolved is one too many. So don't slam them, give them constructive criticism so we can get somewhere.

Problem is God's not down here. He plays a game of telephone through a bunch of mortal idiots, who I'm sure often get it wrong. But they're trying.

Can you imagine what it would be like if a gay christian couple came through the doors of our church? I think some people would handle it better than others. But sadly I honestly believe they would be judged and feel unable to return. God forbid they actually feel welcome right?
You definitely don't have to agree with their choices, but you can still love them. If their actions don't hurt you, then don't judge them.

God loves you for where you are at. It's okay to be where you are, people expect perfection from others and are blind to their own imperfections. Don't let them take away religion for you. Don't let them shame you for coming how you are, (still be respectful, and please actually try) come how you are. You are loved for who you are.

This is why I only attend sacrament meeting. I renew my covenants I made with god and then get out. I'm coming how I am. Imperfect, confused, angry, conflicted. I don't necessarily fit in with the others in my ward. I don't necessarily agree with them on many issues. But I suck it up and go, because they can be different than me. I'm coming how I am, even if I think there are arrogant people.

My grandmother who is now a relief society president, and a temple worker really made me question my faith. How could god allow someone who did this to me to 'work for him'? For a while I thought I wanted no part of this. I felt utterly betrayed. Sometimes I still do a little. But I'm being brave. 'Mormon' does not define me or my religion. My religion is loving others, and trying to improve myself. My religion is my personal accountability and my relationship to god. Just because she calls herself a member does not mean we share the same religion. It's still hard. It still makes me angry that bishops believe her lies. It makes me angry that part of my family threw me under a bus as soon as it was convenient. But they will not take away religion from me. They're the kind of people who are offended by bare shoulders. They do not practice understanding and love, they practice shoving sticks up their butts.

I do not attend the temple. It kind of disgusts me that so many assume it's because I did something wrong. On the flip side there are A LOT of amazing Mormons who are very mormon-y who get it. Who are hurt when people generalize about Mormon culture. Who care about everyone. Don't let one crazy scare you away. Nope. It's because if I saw my grandma in a temple, there would be a physical fight some really poetic angry words and at the end of it she might be bald. Understanding that there are REALLY bad people in the temple scares me. I don't feel safe there anymore. That kind of breaks my heart. That's the focus of the LDS faith. Good thing it doesn't have to be the center of my religion. Love is what matters most to me. People who chastise or hate others for something they are uneducated about and don't understand are not who associate myself with. Even if they call themselves Mormon.

If you can find your religion in a TV show, a song, a person, a picture than find it and spend time thinking about it and with it. There have been plenty of times in my life where Les Miz has spoken more to my soul than relief society ever could. Find it in the mountains, in the small miracles you can see everyday. Don't be little *insert favorable cuss word here*. Listen to Kansas. You can do this. Jesus sends you love, fist bumps, and dogs to help you handle the bad stuff.

Find your own religion. Go against the grain. You are not defined by someone else's understanding of membership. We live by example. If you want to be loved and respected love and respect.

Be the person you needed.

I'm talking about the dawn of justice for a second, There are no spoilers :) If you don't follow it that's okay it will make sense in the end.

Batman is someone immensely important to me. Because when I felt like I couldn't do this anymore I looked at him and I knew he had felt the same way. I knew he understood what it felt like to live with so much guilt that you live with the monsters inside your head. The monster that is yourself. It is always saying "you're a damn coward." "Why didn't you try something else?" "You could've done something." It whispers to you constantly until all your mental strength is gone. The battles in your head so intense you honestly don't know if your going to destroy yourself. If the version of yourself you want to be will die.  Even if you can look at your situation logically, you believe it when you hear the monsters say "This is all your fault." Bruce Wayne's parents murder was not his fault and everyone on the planet could tell him that, but it wouldn't matter. It doesn't change he felt. How I felt.

Batman was formed out of a sense of honor, self inflicted pain, trying to right wrongs, trying to be the difference he needed as a child. These are reasons he doesn't kill. It's too traumatizing to him, to use the thing that destroyed his life. To become his own worst enemy. What makes batman a superhero is that he doesn't cross that line. It's unrealistic and sometimes illogical, but from a hurting human perspective it makes so much sense; it's truly incredible. He understands that even scumbags have family too. So when I saw batfleck with a gun, I knew I wasn't going to love this movie. If I didn't know the justice league, or care about them I would be liked the movie. But it fell so short of what it could've been, it freaking is pissing me off. Basically Zach Snyder has made a bunch of hipster impostors. Not the justice league. He also took the best stories from several story arcs and cheaply threw them in to start 'establishing the dc universe'. The thing is, they are going to suck because he's lost batman.  I hope he's really proud that he has cheapened a legend, an icon, a source of hope. He has officially earned a place on my list of peoples I'd like to punch in the face. He's playing god with characters, that have become people. I really was upset by that. P.S. Zack, get your own good ideas dude. Leave my batman alone.

I promise that was all relevant, and probably only a couple of you followed that. but Bruce grows up and strives to be the person he needed. When I look back on my life I see what I needed, what I would say to thirteen year old self if only I could. I'm trying to become the person I needed, to help myself and others. I honestly needed batman, someone who didn't sugar coat things. That did what was right, not politically correct, someone that understood everyone is important. Someone that gave as much as they could, someone doing their best to help everyone out. I feel like I fall so short of what I needed, I'm not batman. I'm not very smart. I'm not someone who can solve problems quickly. I'm not loud enough. I feel like even if I scream what I have to say at the top of my lungs no one hears me. I'm not a symbol. I don't mean a thing. At best I'm an annoying, overly opinionated, confused girl. I'm trying, really hard. But I don't change enough, I don't do enough. I don't think I'm enough. I'm glad I don't hear the monsters in my head as much as I used to. I'm glad that i'm compassionate, and blunt.

But I fall so short of what I needed.

What does that mean? Do I have purpose? Is this ever going to be worth it? I don't know. Without direction I'm swallowed up by the black waters in my mind. I don't know If I should sink or swim, I'm completely unoriented and while I'm thrashing in water. I can no longer see the goals or dreams I have for myself. I'm afraid. That's how I've felt for so long. Afraid. But I keep going. I know that this fear, the pain of never being enough is going to plague for the rest of my life. How can I ever be strong enough to help myself? To be able to save myself by saving someone else? But I fight it. I wake up. I don't feel anything for days on end. I don't sleep. But I keep going. Through the ptsd that fires at me when I least expect it, that turns my life into a war zone. The insomnia that takes all the strength I can muster some days. The night terrors, that make me afraid of my safety nets. The aching depression that ate away at me for so long I didn't know if I had a soul anymore. There are days where all I do is cry because I understand I probably have eighty more years of this. Still, I keep going.

I try to make it matter. By doing something so good one day that I can say this was worth it. I guess that's what bravery is. Wow, that makes me sound like a douche bag, pegging myself as brave. But I mean it, I choose to be brave. That's what I say to myself each morning before my monsters awake. "Choose to be brave. Choose to do whats right." I know that some days will be easier, and that some days I'll be drowning. But someday maybe I'll get there. Maybe I'll escape the waters that wash over me and dilute who I am with doubt. I guess that's the one advantage I have, one step closer to being batman.

Be the person you needed for direction when your life was too much to handle. Be your idol. Be your friend. Be who you want to be. Create yourself, instead of soul searching.  Even if you feel like your not enough, keep trying. You can make a difference. Hold onto yourself. I'm proud of you, and I promise If you're one of the five people who read this you made a difference to me.

Choose to be brave.