Not What I Expected

***I started this post a few weeks ago, but it continues to speak to my feelings and is a good example of my anxiety, so I decided to finish it up tonight***



I have become someone that I never wanted to be.

Now, I didn't say that I've become someone I don't want to be, or that I don't like the person I have become. Simply that the person I am today is never something I wanted when I was growing up or in early adulthood.

The only career I ever wanted for my myself was to be a stay at home mom. It's still something I wish for so dearly. And I know that circumstances don't always work out that way. I know that it's frequent that the mother must work in order to help support the household. I'm aware that this is an ideal, but it's still something I've always wanted.

As I went to college and had to choose a field of study, I realized that there wasn't anything in particular that I wanted to do. I picked a major that I enjoyed, but didn't really push me in a particular direction, and the post-college job search was difficult as a result. I just wanted a job that I enjoyed and treated me well.

Now, all these years later, I've reached a really great place in my career. I somehow managed to find myself in management. It wasn't something I had planned, but my skills and interests turned out to line up with leading people. For the most part, I really love my job. And when I'm at work, I'm 100% committed to doing the best job I can and looking for promotions. When one is available, I am all over it. I am confident that I could do well and that it would be a great change and wonderful advancement in my career plan.

At home, however, it's a completely different story. No matter how confident I am at work about what I'm doing, I tend to fall into a panic trap over moving too fast or just not wanting to do the job. It's especially bad now, as I've currently been promoted. Things calm down a bit once I've gotten used to the change and I'm more confident, but any talk of career advancement turns into panic once I'm home. Every promotion reminds me that I'm not in the career that I truly want, and that somehow equates into kicking and screaming all the way to the day of the interview. As if not getting a promotion will somehow get me married off faster.

I do feel that there's a bit of truth in that, though. As I grow as a leader, as a "career woman", I feel like I'm getting more out of touch with the dating world. Rather than having more confidence in talking to guys, I just feel more awkward because I have less interaction with peers and definitely no flirting opportunities at work. Plus, the more I advance, the more independent I become. That, combined with the intimidation factor I always have to deal with, makes me feel like most guys just go running. This is especially rough because I come home from work with my head full and I just wish someone was there to let it all out to. I crave the companionship of marriage that seems to so fully elude me.

One trick I've learned in dealing with my anxiety is to think about how I feel in different situations. I remind myself of all those confident feelings I had at work. I know that generally, any panicked thoughts I have at home are the result of letting myself dwell on fantasies and what ifs, not the result of rational thought. It helps, but it still makes Sunday nights rough sometime, knowing I have to go into work the next day and not feeling fully prepared.

The good news is that I know the newness of my position is what makes this so rough. I just have to give it time to settle in and get things figured out. I have to let the rational side of my brain take hold more often to remind me that I need to look at the big picture. I am an independent woman, and that's good. I've come a long way from the timid little girl that I once was. I tackle challenges that many people would shy away from, and I have to remember that my strength is one of the most important things that I have built in my life.

I'm working on it :)

Admittance

Tonight, I googled "tricks to beat depression" for the very first time. This marks the first time that I've officially admitted to myself that I struggle with that. I've thrown the word around a bit here and there and tossed the idea around in my head that it might be real for me, but I'd always thought that maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just a rough day. Maybe I was tired.

Depression and anxiety both run in my family, so I always knew that it could hit me. I thought for years that I had avoided it. Growing up, I've watched my mom suffer from both. So much so that it's been an unspoken goal in my life to never show any sign of weakness, as mentioned in an older post. I knew how much my mom had on her plate, especially as we all got older and some of my siblings fell away from the church and enjoyed various levels of riotous living, and as I watched my parents' marriage struggle. I focused so much on telling myself that I was the cheerful, upbeat, optimistic one that it never occurred to me that I might also be struggling.

It's been about a year since I admitted to myself that I suffer from anxiety. I would have panicked thoughts that were so intense that I more than once mistook them as warnings from the Spirit. I don't even remember what triggered the recognition, but once I understood that it was anxiety, everything was different. Everything made more sense. I could talk myself down from the panic. I was more in control of my mind. I can now tell myself, "This is just the anxiety talking. Take some deep breaths and calm down, and everything will look better".

I've used all my mind power over the years to convince myself that anxiety and depression are not weaknesses, but there's a tiny part in the back of my brain that instinctively whispers that they are. It's a knee-jerk reaction, a lie that I tell myself because I have worked so hard to be so strong. I hate admitting I need help. I feel like I've talked about this a lot, but it's very true. I expect perfection from myself. I have to tell myself everything is fine so I can project that image onto my face. In addition to needing to be the strong pillar in my family, I also feel that coming out and admitting I have these struggles would feel like I'm jumping on a bandwagon. With so many people in my family struggling right now, it would feel less sincere to say I know how they feel, especially when I really don't. I suffer from far lower levels of depression and anxiety than they do. It's like telling someone with a broken arm that your finger hurts. Each person's pain is very real, but yours seems so superficial next to theirs, and they're clearly too busy with their broken arm to nurse your finger.

So clearly the most logical step is to get it all out on a blog that my family knows nothing about. In all seriousness, though, writing is very cathartic. The other step is acceptance. Accepting myself with all my struggles is the biggest thing. And guess what? I even got a few good tips from my Google search. So I'll have to try those out and see how that goes.

A Little Illumination

There's a guy on my team at work who is most likely going to be fired soon. He's been on a performance plan for just over a month, and I've been working closely with him since before the performance plan. The position he's in can be challenging, but I wouldn't say it's particularly difficult, and the changes that he needs to make in order to improve and maintain employment are so simple. I've become increasingly frustrated with him because he seems to care so little about getting better at his job. I tell him the same things over and over again, and he's still not doing what I've asked him to.

I've been very honest with him lately that it's likely that he will be let go without drastic improvement, and in our meeting today he asked if it would be possible for him to voluntarily resign if it comes to that. This young man would rather lose his job than take the simple steps needed to be successful and remain employed. It boggles my mind that he can just casually turn from something right in his grasp.

I went to institute tonight, mind still boggled, where we talked about the book of Hosea. The story of Hosea is of a woman turning away from her husband, much like Israel had turned from the Lord. We discussed that when a spouse is unfaithful, it is the other spouse that feels the hurt first. They feel betrayed. Their trust has been broken. In the case of the Lord and Israel (or any one of us), He is the one hurt when we turn away from him.

Suddenly I realized that the frustration I have been feeling is in some small measure the same frustration that our loving Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ feel for us when we are not doing all They ask of us. God sees us sinning and knows we can do better. He knows what we can become. He wants to give us all He has. All we have to do is turn to Him and ask for His help. It's so simple. There's so much waiting for us, and we just have to have faith in Him and live righteously.

Of course, the similarities in my situation only go so far. If this person is separated from the company, I will have no lasting regrets. This will be his choice, and I'll move on. But that is not how the Lord operates. Because of His unconditional and unending love for us, He will continue to wait for us to return. No matter what we do, He will always be there with His arms open, ready to forgive us when we repent. Ready to give us all He has and help us become like Him.

The Tale of an Awkward Date, and What I Learned from it

**What you are about to read does not paint me in the best light. Please understand that I am communicating my honest feelings at this time. I'm not perfect; I know that some of my feelings were not kind. I'm hoping that this is a safe space where I can share my deepest emotions**

My stake recently started up a matchmaking program. We all filled out papers with our best features and things we're looking for in a date, and then checked a box authorizing the Relief Society to find us dates. It's the sort of thing that's totally out of my comfort zone, but I figured I might as well, since I never date (still haven't been on a date since the fiasco a year ago).

So I went forward with faith, and when the day came to receive our matches, I was really excited. I looked at the names and wondered at the possibilities. One of the sisters on the committee stressed that a lot of prayer had gone into choosing these matches. They had even attended the temple during the decision making. Excitement quickly turned into dread, however, as I looked at the profile of one of the guys, and the dread grew when I went home and Facebook stalked him (let's be honest; we all do that). It was apparent that this guy was not my type at all. I don't know how to communicate this without sounding super judgey, but I could that he just wasn't at my intellectual level.

I was devastated. I had stepped outside my cozy little bubble to try something new, and it looked like I had been assigned a pity date. Again (a similar thing had happened to me the last time the stake set up blind dates). I was sure that there were a wide variety of guys that signed up, and not all guys would be everyone's type. My thought was that someone had to go on dates with guys that might not match up with girls. It's the type of situation you can't really avoid, but it was hard for me because I'd really hoped to meet someone that could become something more.

I had just started to get frustrated and wanting to write off the whole thing when I remembered the sister informing us that the committee had really prayed about these matches and a worse thought came to my mind. Maybe this guy was a good match for me. Maybe I've had too high of an opinion of myself for all these years and Heavenly Father was trying to kick me down a few notches. I started to think that I'd been so vain all these years to think I could be a match for the type of guy I'd always hoped for. Was this why I never dated anyone? Was this why guys never give me a second look? Could it be that I'm just as weird as the people I have always shied away from in social situations?

I sat through the CES fireside at the church that night, holding back the tears as all of this stormed in my head. I went home and sobbed, alternating between feeling like a horrible person for judging my match, and feeling so foolish, questioning anything I'd ever felt confident about in my personality and appearance.

Of course, my match had also gotten me and called and texted me to arrange a date. After a lengthy, awkward text conversation full of small talk, we set up a date. He didn't have a car, so I would be meeting him at his house. I spent the whole day feeling sick. I spent the whole week feeling like a horrible person for all the thoughts I was having, still feeling the ache of lost self-esteem.

Eventually (with the help of friends) I shifted my focus. There had to be a reason for this match. I decided the reason was probably to teach me a lesson about judging people. I spent the rest of the week trying to be open-minded, but still dreading the date, which was almost certain to be horribly awkward.

The night of the date came. I drove over to his apartment, and we had our date there. It was terribly awkward and very poorly planned, and after two hours, I said I needed to go home and headed back to my car, happy to be done with two very awkward hours. It was over, and I hadn't died. I remember thinking maybe that was my lesson, to not take everything so seriously and to just be a nicer person.

As I sent a report text to a few friends, I reflected on the night, remembering all the details. I kept coming back to a moment when he was cooking dinner. He stopped, turned to look at me, and said "You know, you are really cute" with a fair amount of enthusiasm. I felt terribly awkward, as it had been quite a compliment from an awkward date. I hadn't known how to respond besides a "thank you". I realized that no man (besides maybe my dad) had ever given me a compliment of that nature. I've never been told that I was even remotely decent looking. I've gotten the odd compliments from girls (one woman I knew at a previous job made several comments about how good my skin was), but I've never had a guy tell me I was cute.

In hindsight, I was blown away. It was delivered in an incredibly awkward situation, but it was genuine. I started to think that maybe I wasn't a hideous, dim-witted human being. I started to hope again that the kind of man I want would want the kind of girl I am. This awkward young man gave me back a flicker of hope that maybe someday, I'll be able to find that eternal companion. And that small flicker made an incredibly rough week worth the pain.

Finally.

Through all the past months of weeping and wailing over the loss of my ex, I always knew, in the back of my mind, that I would have a much easier time getting over him when he started dating someone new. Despite knowing this, I would frequently plead with my Heavenly Father to keep him from dating anyone else; I didn't think I was ready to move on. I couldn't let go yet.

About a week ago, I hit an especially low point and finally told Him that I was ready for the ex to be dating someone. I knew that it had to be done, or I would continue in misery for a long time. Just like that, a few days ago, I found out that the ex was dating someone. I was sick to my stomach for a whole day, but then I started to heal. I knew from that moment that the time had come to move on.

The night that I found out, I had a dream. I dreamed that I was sitting in a small group, having an informal gospel discussion with President Uchtdorf. He asked us why it was that we so often put off the blessings that the Savior is willing to give us. The people around me gave the primary answers: not enough faith, pride. I raised my hand and, tears in my eyes and throat constricted, I stated that sometimes we believe the pain that we are in is better than the blessings that await us. We equate the pain we are wallowing in with staying close to something that we have lost, and we don't understand that Christ is just waiting for us to let go and accept what He has waiting for us.

It's like that story of the little girl and the pearls. The girl had saved up her money to buy a string of pearls from the corner store. Even though they weren't real, the little girl loved them. They were her prized possession. One night, her father came into her room and asked her if she loved him. She responded that she did. He asked her to give him her pearls. She told him that she couldn't possibly give him her pearls, and her father didn't argue, but left quietly.

This happened for the next two nights. On the third night, the girl was crying when her father came in. She told him she loved him, and that he could have her pearls. The father took the pearls from his daughter, and handed her a beautiful velvet case. Inside the case lay a string of real pearls. All the little girl had to do was give up what seemed so precious for something infinitely more dear.

We all have moments like this girl. We can become so blinded that we aren't willing to give up something fake and temporary for something genuine and eternal. Our Heavenly Father is waiting for us to give up the foolish things in our lives so he can give us blessings beyond measure. He will wait patiently while we learn our lesson, waiting for us to listen to the Spirit and reach out to Him.

I'm not saying that I've been foolish this whole time. I honestly don't think I was ready until a month or so ago. But I should have listened to the Spirit sooner and taken action. Life is too short to latch on to unnecessary pain when there is so much joy available. I'm ready to feel that joy in my life, and to take on whatever comes next.

Still.....

Guys. It's been almost five months. FIVE MONTHS. And I still can't get this guy out of my head. There is something that reminds me of him every single day. We just had so much in common and shared so many of our likes that my head is just full of him. I can't even put into words how pathetic I feel, and how ashamed I am of not being able to move on. The way he left things makes me feel that no one will ever want to date me and I'm afraid to even make an attempt. I feel broken, and I hate that feeling.

I feel so foolish about this whole situation that if it weren't for the fact that blogging is cathartic for me, I wouldn't even be typing this. But I need to get my words out. I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me; I just need a voice, even if it's a silent, anonymous voice.

So here's the uplifting part that I always hate to write but make myself do it anyway because it makes me feel better. My scripture reading last night was Moroni 7. Verse 11 reads, "For behold, a bitter fountain cannot bring forth good water; neither can a good fountain bring forth bitter water". I read that and realized that I am the bitter fountain. Not in the exact context of the scripture (it goes on to say that a servant of the devil cannot follow Christ), but in the sense that my life will never get better (bring forth good water) if I continue to be so mopey and focused on this one terrible thing (being the bitter fountain). I need to try harder. I need to be the person I am capable of being. I've been doing a few things that are helping me climb out of this hole, but it's not enough. I've been trying to make myself go to ward activities. I'm trying to talk to people and make friends. It's hard, but I'm trying. I don't want to be the bitter fountain. I don't want to sit in a hole with my memories. I want to stand in the sun and be the good fountain that brings forth good water. I want to be happy.

That's all. I don't really have any fancy wrapping up sentence to tie this all together. Just a list of wants that are really more like needs. Maybe someday I'll get there.

Two Month Checkup

Imagine that you were born with one arm. When you're young, everyone your age has only one arm, and you don't really consider the possibility of needing more than one arm, but as you enter adulthood, suddenly people around you start sprouting second arms left and right. You patiently wait your turn, but it never seems to come. People younger than you are getting their second arms. People you babysat years ago are getting their second arms. You start to wonder what you possibly could have done wrong for them to get their second arm before you.

Eventually, you learn a bit of patience and focus on your one arm. You realize that you are able to function quite well with just the one arm. Sure, a second arm would be great, but that's no reason to look down upon yourself for only having one arm. You frame your life around making the most of your one arm, rather than waiting around for life to start with a second arm.

Then one day, you find yourself with a second arm, and it's everything you'd hoped it would be. You finally have what you've wanted for so long. Life just seems so much greater with that second arm. You find that there's so much out there you were missing with just one arm. Everything is wonderful when you have a second arm. You love having two arms. You hope that you have two arms forever.

Sadly, all too soon you find yourself back to just one arm. At first, it's miserable. How can you be expected to go back to one arm after knowing how great it is to have a second arm? This must be some kind of mistake. There's a period of denial, when you think that maybe your second arm will come back, followed by the painful realization that you really are back to only one arm. You have this horrible, haunting ache where your arm used to be. You watch movies celebrating second arms and spend night after night crying as you mourn the loss of something you waited for your entire life.

After a while, even though you didn't think it was possible, you start to feel a little better. Instead of spending all your time moaning and groaning because you lost your second arm, you start to remember that life was pretty great with just the one arm. You're mostly not bitter, at least you almost never want to punch cuddling couples. You no longer have to fight tears during marriage and family lessons at church. You still have memories pop up or dreams about the lost arm, but they no longer control your day and your attitude. You're okay, mostly.

That's pretty much how I feel right now. To wrap things up, I'd like to share the phases of my breakup, illustrated by Christina Perri songs. These are the songs I listened to and identified with before, immediately after, and two months after the breakup.