Evolution

Today I was on a 14 hour car ride to Denver, Colorado and I was thinking about life. Seeing nature always helps me to remember that even when catastrophic things happen in nature, life goes on. Forests burn down and lakes dry up, but eventually new lakes are made and new forests grow. The human experience is so similar to nature, this comforts me in times when I feel like misery will last forever. 

This morning, however, I had the realization that every living thing has always evolved over time. And many species go extinct due to other species over hunting or over crowding their habitats. 

How are humans any different? We are slowly evolving and changing over time, just like the plants and animals we see today. We constantly seem to have to adapt to things that seem "unnatural", but change IS natural. It is natural for a species to over crowd and self promote and do what it takes to survive. Humans are doing just that-slowly evolving and changing over time, while also dominating the "lesser" specieses around them. If any other species were given the opportunity, they'd do the same to us.

Maybe those who are born without the ability to feel or know what others are feeling are LESS EVOLVED than those who can. Maybe humans are slowly evolving to have more empathy for others. We have the capacity now to see and feel how our actions affect others. Maybe this type of thinking is also something that has slowly evolved over time in the human brain, as new foods, medications, and chemicals  have been introduced to our bodies.

It wouldn't surprise me if humans went extinct one day as well, while another species takes our place as the superior race. This thought initially scared the shit out of me-if that is the case, then there really is no possibility of a human God-and that could mean endless possibilities after death, including the cease of existence. However, as I thought about it, I realized that I no longer felt anger for those who are selfish or those who hurt others. Humans are evolving and doing what any other living thing would do-fight for it's own life and well being first and foremost. 

I feel, now, that there is no good or bad. Things just ARE. There isn't anything out there that's "allowing" injustices to occur-injustices occur because they occur. It's my responsibility to live my life the way I want to AND THE WAY I CAN ACCORDING TO MY CIRCUMSTANCES. Because NO LIVING THING has ever or will ever get to choose how long of a life it gets and what kind of life it experiences. We all get what we get, and we get to do what we choose with it.

Would we call a lion "bad" for killing a zebra for food, or better yet, for sport? They do this.

Some animals will rape each other. Would we scold them or make them extinct because of this? No, because it's "natural".

I'm not promoting rape or murder in the slightest. My point is, over time, humans have evolved to be able to recognize how their actions affect other living things. Maybe this is why newer generations are considered "sensitive"-because they recognize that their actions affect other things. Just because something "has always been this way" doesn't mean it always should be this way. Maybe, just maybe, it's evolution.

Today I Wanted to be Dead

I automatically woke up at about 0500 hours, just like I have been every morning for the past few weeks. I forced myself to take a shower and ended up sitting on the bathtub floor while letting water run over my body. I was just hating everything about myself.

"Why can't I be so sick I lose all this extra weight I have?"

"I'll just be fat forever."

"Are all guys selfish assholes? Am I ready to be alone for the rest of my life?"

"Do I really want to get in another relationship and have to work on it? That gets tiring. I am not sure I want to."

"But I want that human interaction. I want someone to share experiences with."

"I don't even have a job. I'm a fucking loser."

Water ran on my head and down my body that was feeling heavy and sad. I thought about being dead and how much easier it might be if that was the case. I stared at my feet, feeling empty and hating everything about me.

I got out of the shower and looked at my phone. I had a notification from an app called "i am".

"I have a lot to offer the world."

I asked a couple friends for help and they both said things I didn't necessarily want to hear, but I needed to hear.

"I don't really know what you want to hear indago, it comes down to personal responsibility. I'd say you owe yourself more than being wreckless."

"I think you should replace those habits with something more healthy and try to pick up a new hobby or something. Write in your journal and listen to motivational videos. Exercise and keep your brain working and occupied with other things. It helps to think of the outcome. How are you going to feel afterwards? I'm not saying go run a mile. Go walk out to the mailbox. Or go down to the dollar store and walk and look around in the AC. Start small and then work your way up from there. I love you but you know I was raised on tough love. The only way YOU are going to feel better is if YOU do something about it." 

My friends are right. The only way my life will change is if I change it. I thought back to the app notification.

"I have a lot to offer the world."

Was it God? No. I wouldn't have the app if my friend hadn't told me about it. I downloaded it and I put it on my phone. Not some imaginary sky man. Me.
Who got myself up and in the shower? Me.
Who put on my makeup? I did.
Who had me get heels on and walked around a couple stores just to get out? Me.
Who lied on her floor and listened to a meditation? Me.
Who got up and started working on schoolwork that is due this weekend? Me.

It's all up to me.

"It's not living if it's not with you."

Why is it drilled into our heads that we need to find "the one" in order to be happy?

About 3 weeks ago, I decided I was going to get a divorce. A lot of thought, pros and cons lists , tears, and discussions have gone into this decision and I can say that it is the best decision for me. I realized I lost myself, not only in my marriage but in my life. I don't know who I am anymore, or if I ever knew. I was like the giving tree, who gave every bit of herself to someone who did not give back. Finding myself a stump in the ground, I knew things needed to change.

Today I have been feeling bad for myself. "Boo hoo I got fired from my job. Waa I am getting a divorce. Meeh I got COVID. School is hard booo. " (Yes. All of these things have happened or are happening right now.) I realized I just want to feel wanted, but that I don't even want myself. I got frustrated because...WHY don't we teach each other how to want ourselves? Why are movies and TV shows filled with people who are fixed by someone else? Why are women STILL expected to take care of everything in the home i.e. cleaning, schedules, bills, children, etc. I still see stories of women "saving" men when that is never the case. Real change occurs within oneself, and has nothing to do with other people who might be around.

The title of this post is a song title by The 1975. I listened to it and began to feel annoyed because, why can't I learn to live life with myself? Most songs are about finding the right person out there, but really, I wish I had been taught how to better love Indago. I think she deserves more love and care than she likes to think, and the best person for it to come from is herself. One of the hardest things I have ever done is to learn how to love myself. For some reason, I am willing to say things to and about myself that I would never EVER say about my friends or family members. Why is this? I still don't know. I think some of it has to do with always being taught to look at other people and worry about them. Always try to help someone else and disregard your needs because they will come. Really, I need to take care of myself FIRST. Then, I can try to help other people. I matter. I deserve my love. And I am determined to make me see that.

I went to a psych hospital.

I know I don't blog often, hardly ever. But I feel like this is a nice way of journaling and getting things out in the open.

As many of you know, I recently found myself at a crossroads in terms of what to believe in. Having been a devout, life-long member of the mormon church, I had always had "the answers". I knew how to solve every problem, and I knew God would take care of everything.

Now, I am not sure what I believe in. I am still trying to figure that out. But, I began feeling "burnt out" near the beginning of the year. Everyone fighting over politics, corporations controlling everything, people only care about money (even in healthcare!). It seems that the only thing that matters to anyone is

M O N E Y.

I work with a unique ambulance company that does not work off the 911 system. Rather, we respond to emergencies at homeless shelters, detox centers, psychiatric facilities, jails, and some random ass assisted living facilities every once in a while. We also do a lot of transports from one facility to another. Consequently, we encounter a lot of alcoholics, drug addicts, homeless people, and inmates. Many people with mental illness get shuffled around from place to place, and then are eventually kicked out and live on the streets. They get clean, but then have nowhere to go. They turn back to drugs as a result. Then the cycle starts over.

I get very sad thinking of all the people that I cannot help, and instead of taking care if myself outside of work, I am always on the go. I either have homework or house work to take care of and never take time for me. A couple weeks ago, I was working and had a mental breakdown. I almost began crying from frustration while we were dropping a patient off at a hospital. Once we got outside, I could not hold in my tears.

"What is the point of life? No body gives a fuck about anyone else. I am sad and angry and feel like that will never change. Not to mention, I am exhausted 6/7 days of the week (thanks a lot mystery illness). The healthcare system is broken. The mental health system is broken. Everything is broken and no one can do anything unless they have lots of money. God isn't going to take care of these people, like I once thought."

I already take anti depressants, I have seen a therapist for Y E A R S. I see a psychiatrist. I didn't know what else to do. I thought, "Maybe I need to go to an inpatient psychiatric facility," I thought. I texted my supervisor and she said she was actually thinking the same thing. So, her angel self called around and found me a bed at a facility. I called Andy and he came and picked me up from work. I was so scared to go to this place, I cried the whole way there.

I could only bring certain things with me, and they made me take out my piercings (RIP nose ring. You will one day return.) I couldn't have my deodorant, conditioner, or any notebooks with metal coils. Andy could stay with me during the intake process, which was very comforting. But when he had to leave, my heart dropped to my stomach. I sobbed while the tech took me to my unit. I sat in a chair looking, like a scared rat, while everyone else on the unit lined up for their smoke break. Some people tried talking to me but I did not want them to. I just knew I would miss my dogs, my husband and my house. I also knew I was stuck there until my team felt it was okay to let me go home. I was led to a bathroom where I stood, almost naked, in front of 2 nurses while they checked me for injuries, tattoos, bruises, etc. I then laid down on my weird bed, my head on my 2 dimensional pillow, and cried myself to sleep.

I was abruptly woken up for my vitals to be taken, and then fell back asleep. I felt like a train had ran over me, backed up over me, the conductor got out to see what he hit, he didn't see me as I had been directly under the train, and then ran me over one last time as he continued on over the horizon. Somehow, I was still in this prison. I was awakened again to get my blood drawn. Then once again for breakfast. I couldn't brush my teeth before breakfast because they keep our hygiene stuff in a bucket locked in a room. My breath smelled terrible, and I looked even worse. I ate the breakfast, and we went back to our unit. I was finally able to take a shower. I had to press the faucet every 30 seconds to keep the water on, and I could not shut the door all the way. My deodorant was in a packet that I had to squeeze onto my hand and rub on my armpits. Every patient in the facility smelled like death due to the poor quality packet squish gel we were expected to put under our arms every day. I really wanted to stay in bed all day long and cry, but I knew I had to get out of there. I had a paper to write, and other schoolwork. I could not do it while I was in the facility.

I went to the group activities. There was a lot of talk about drug and alcohol abuse, and how a person can resist the urge to use again. "I don't belong here. What the heck is this? I am not an addict. I am not one of these people." I participated in my groups and kept to myself the first day. I called Andy and cried to him, telling him how alone I felt and how angry I was that I went there. I felt like an idiot for admitting myself to this place. I felt like I would never get out.

I started talking to people on my unit and making friends. I realized that there is so much more that goes into addiction than the choice to try a certain drug or drink. A lot of them had the same problems I do, they just use drugs to cope. Some of my unit-mates had horrible childhoods, and it hurt my soul. One of them had overdosed nine times last year. Nine. Times. Some explained that once they get sober, their depression and anxiety come back full force and they can't handle it. They turn back to drugs or alcohol to stop feeling. Some went to war, and came back with broken bodies and broken lives. Drugs were there for them and they turned to drugs. Being numb was better than feeling pain, but what kind of life has no feeling? Feeling is what we need. I learned that feeling pain and sadness is better than feeling nothing because as a result, I can feel happiness, joy, and peace. I felt like I could better understand others just by listening to their stories. Today, people are so worried about sharing their perfect moments, they don't share their STORY. Your story is what makes you YOU. So much anger and hate would be dissolved if we could all hear each other's stories.

I started to not hate being there. I learned a lot. I feel like I am better than I was before I went in. Ultimately I was there for 4 days. I came home and took off a week so I could reset and adjust. I knew I need to start taking care of myself. Boundaries would be beneficial. Rest is not lazy. Small amounts of exercise can go a great way. No food is "bad" or "good". And, I can challenge the negative thoughts that pop into my head. It was good for me to go to the psych hospital. I am not ashamed to say it....actually, I am probably shitting my pants as you read because I actually posted this. Why is it that if I broke my leg and had to go to the hospital, I could say it without thinking twice? But I have great anxiety discussing my experience at the mental health hospital.

Please, take care of yourself. You matter.

#metoo

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Hope

9 times out of 10 I find myself in a whirlwind of thought. I'm so entangled in my own brain it's hard to fight through the mess to see what's real, and what's pure thinking. I get upset with myself because I can never do good enough. Nothing I ever do is sufficient. I constantly need to do more and more.  I'm worthless, bad, and most importantly, unlovable. Why should someone love me? Why WOULD someone love me? I can't fathom it. It's such a silly waste of time. Not only that, it also isn't possible. A person may say they love me, but little do they know, I'm not worth it.

There are so many other people and things people could invest energy and time into..why choose me? What have I ever done? Nothing. I'm a selfish, ugly, cold-hearted, stiff necked human being. I would be better off alone, by myself, where I could just torture my own soul, and save others the trouble of having to deal with me and my existence. What is my purpose anyway? I hate myself.


For many years of my life, I have felt this way. I have hated myself, and as time went on, the rock in my heart grew. I became disconnected with my body and heart, and only focused on what was in my head. If someone ever said something nice to me, I could not accept it. The little rock in my heart was there, and I couldn't believe what was being said. I just smiled and said thank you, while that little rock jabbed me a few times until I shrugged off the compliment.

I tried overcoming this all by myself, because I didn't want to ask for help.. But one day, I had a strong feeling to start meeting with a psychologist? counselor? psychiatrist? My bishop recommended her to me, and I started going to her. I told her about my childhood, and how unhappy it really was. I told her of being left home alone since a very young age, the verbal, emotional, and mental abuse that occurred. She said we could do a treatment that would help me process the bad memories into good ones, replacing the bad feelings with new, good ones. I was feeling pretty hopeless at the time, and I didn't believe her. But I was willing to try anything. I wanted to get better.

So, here I am. Processing my old memories; the ones that you can feel, smell, and even taste. Those ones that you think back to, and it's like a stuck point in time. You're there again, and you can't get rid of it. It's like a wine stain on white carpet, it's not coming out.

Well, this treatment helps with that. It's the scrub brush, the soap, and the hard-working hands, scrubbing away at that stain. And you know what? After a long, hard life of not believing I was a good person and that I was truly loved, I was finally able to look someone in the eye and say,"I am good enough. I am a good person," and believe it. I imagined a version of myself in my head, locked up, finally getting the strength to stand up and scream,"I AM GOOD ENOUGH!" And I really did believe it. I felt it. I knew it. It was an amazing moment. One I will truly never forget. My heart was warm, my mind clear. I knew, for sure, it was true.

I hope that if anyone reading this has ever felt anything like what I have felt, PLEASE reach out and ask for help. You are not meant to go through this life alone. And, might I add, you are loved more than you ever know! You are cared for. YOU ARE WORTH IT. And I know that to be true. It is HARD to reach out, and some of you may be angry when you do it, but please, just do it. We learn when we do hard things. And we all have hard things. Together, we can make it. Together, we can overcome this.

Thank-you

I began writing this a while ago, and I finally finished it.....

Well, yesterday being Mother's Day really made me want to write my first post. I have been thinking about this for a long while now so here I go.

I was at dinner with my fiance's family last night, when his sweet grandmother was trying to make conversation with me.
She politely asked,"Oh, Indy, did you see your mother today?" expecting me to say something like,"Oh yes, it was so lovely. I love my mother. She influenced my life so much and was always there for me. I know she loves me too."

I replied with a simple,"No."

There was an awkward silence I found hilarious, and no one really knew what to say. I laughed to myself and quickly tried to change the subject so grandma wouldn't feel as though she'd upset me at all, because she hadn't. I completely understand that most people's Mother's Day consists of lots of flowers, gifts, cards, and chocolates. They want to do something for their mom's who had sacrificed so much to raise them and love them no matter what they did. These mothers are such a huge influence on everyone and they deserve a day!

On the other hand, there are those whose mothers did NOT sacrifice so much for them. The moms who slept all day, worked all night, avoided their families, and regretted having children. The moms who resented and even envied their kids, those who made their children become adults when they should have been children!

I spent a lot of my life wondering if my childhood was normal, and it wasn't. It isn't normal to make peanut butter and jelly for you and your brother when you are 3 years old, and then macaroni and cheese at 5. It isn't normal to be left home alone every day, you and your siblings watching each other. I know there are many who have had similar experiences and even worse ones. I am fully aware that I am not the only one who had to grow up in a broken home, with fighting parents and a disconnected mother.

But that does not mean that my feelings and thoughts are irrelevant. I am allowed to wonder and ask,"WHY. Why did this happen to me? I want a loving mother whom I can trust! I want my parents to be married and happy forever. I don't want to hate my mom. WHY COULDN'T I HAVE THAT HAPPY LIFE LIKE I WANT? Why was I given this?"

And I think I finally know, at least a little bit, why.

I now have a great, detailed example of what I DO NOT want to be as a parent. I want to have love in my home, I want to love my family! I have such great motivation behind me to do good and be a good mother. I know what happens to a person when they don't, because it happened to me. And that doesn't mean that I am broken forever and I am depressed, BUT I AM ALSO ABLE TO BE HEALED. Yup, I said it. I can be healed, through the Atonement of our Savior, Jesus Christ. He suffered so that we never have to suffer alone. All the times we are sad, hurt, angry, miserable, sick..He knows how we feel because He already suffered those things for us, and because of that, we can be fixed and mended...we can be made whole.

The point of this post is to show that we are never alone, and that Jesus Christ is real, He lives! We all pass through problems, trials, mishaps, and sickness. but we can always learn from those experiences and find the good in our every day. I love my Father in Heaven and I love Jesus Christ.