Contemplating life

Writing this blog has really made me sit back and contemplate my life. Like… how did I even get here? How did all the big things and little things shape who I am today? The stuff I went through growing up, the people I loved, the people who hurt me, the choices I made, the trauma, the survival mode, the depression… all of it made me into the person I am now.

And honestly? I think one of the biggest things I’ve struggled with my entire life is being a people pleaser.

Trying to fit the mold. Trying to be the “perfect” wife, the “perfect” mom, the “perfect” church member, the “perfect” human. But the older I get, the more I realize that was all just a game. A very exhausting game.

Before Anthony and I left the Mormon church, I used to joke before we walked out the door, “Okay, fake it till we make it.” And I meant it. Pretend we had it all together. Pretend we weren’t loud, inappropriate, over-sharing, emotional humans. Hide the funny parts, the messy parts, the sex-loving parts, the sarcastic parts, and just act polished.

But that was never really us.

I always felt judged there. And yes, people say, “Maybe you’re just assuming everyone is judging you.” No. I can read a room. I can feel the stares. The up-and-down looks. The silent measuring contests.

In that world it often felt like if you didn’t have the big house, the nice cars, the perfect-looking family, then somehow you weren’t worthy enough.

The crazy thing is… we did everything we were “supposed” to do.

We paid tithing.We helped people.We served.We sacrificed financially.We kept showing up.

And we still struggled all the time.

One of my biggest regrets is continuing to go after I knew my daughter was gay. Hearing people say things like “love the sinner, hate the sin” honestly made me sick. Being gay is NOT a sin. I don’t care what anyone says. I believe people are born exactly how they are supposed to be, and I think God loves diversity way more than humans do.

For years I stayed quiet because I didn’t want conflict. I participated even when my heart disagreed with it. But I’m done doing that now. I’m done shrinking myself to make other people comfortable.

And yes, when we left the church we lost people. But we also gained people too. Real people. People who love us for who we actually are.

And honestly? I finally feel peace.

I still pray. I still believe in God. Probably more now than ever before. I just don’t believe God needs a group of old men telling me what I can and can’t do to have a relationship with Him.

Just yesterday I was praying about our summer plans. I had plans to go to Utah and Idaho this month and then again in July with the whole family. But I kept feeling this little voice saying, “Don’t go this month. Stay home. Fix the car. Work. Save money. July will be better.”

So I’m listening.

And yes, the car situation is annoying. It passed safety and emissions, thank goodness, but apparently there’s a recall on the fuel pump and it sounds HORRIBLE when you drive it. Like it’s dying. The mechanic says it’s technically safe, but it gives this weird kickback feeling and sounds awful. It’s almost $1800 to fix, and we JUST paid almost 3 grand for the catalytic converter. But hey… it’s still cheaper than a new car.

Sorry. Tangent. I do that.

Anyways, back to the point.

I’ve lived a lot of different lives in my 45 years.

I’ve lived in homes where I felt safe and loved.I’ve lived in homes filled with neglect, drugs, abuse, fear, and chaos.I’ve lived through physical abuse, emotional abuse, mental abuse, sexual abuse… all of it.

Then back into safer homes again. Not perfect homes, but safer ones. People doing the best they could with what they had. People carrying their own trauma too.

And that was just my first 18 years of life.

Then came the depression.

Real depression.

The kind where you disappear into yourself for years. The kind where getting out of bed feels impossible. The kind where everyone around you suffers too, because depression doesn’t just affect one person.

Reading my old journals is wild sometimes. Especially reading about Anthony and me from the beginning and thinking, “WHY did you stay? Why didn’t you run?”

I saw the red flags even back then.

But life is complicated.

I know Anthony loves me. I know he has his own trauma and issues too. And honestly? Nobody else would have given me these eight beautiful children. Nobody. Our relationship has been hard. Really hard at times. And one day I probably do need to unpack all of that with a counselor because there’s still a lot there.

We started dating way too young. We were basically kids trying to build an adult life while carrying childhood trauma we didn’t even understand yet.

That’s hard.

I don’t think my major depression really started until after Sam was born and after losing my grandma. Losing her absolutely wrecked me. She was my biggest cheerleader. The one person who always believed in me no matter what. And after she died, I fell hard.

I started medication, and honestly sometimes I think it made things even worse before they got better.

I still have dark days.

Yesterday was one of them.

I started reading old journal entries and trying to write about why I married my husband, and I realized I’m not ready to fully open that door yet. I like where we are right now. I don’t want to drag us backward into old pain. But I also know someday I’ll probably need to go there if I truly want to heal completely.

Healing is weird like that.

But when I really sit back and contemplate everything I’ve lived through starting as a little girl… honestly? I think I’m doing pretty good now.

For the first time in a really long time, I feel healthy.

I have my family.I have my best friend.I have the gym.I have purpose again.And for once… I finally feel like myself.