Why Are We So Afraid to Talk About This?

It happened when I was very young, four or five years old. I don't remember much about it. But it taught me to fear. It taught me so many lies. Like these.

You are bad.

There is something wrong with you.

You need to hide.

You can't trust people.

You are of no value.

It does not matter what you want.

There is nothing wrong. You are imagining things.

You are weak. You are helpless.


I believed these lies so much that I didn't like myself. I didn't see how others could like me. And so I pretended that it never happened. I hid it, even from myself.

If you capture a princess, lock her in a dungeon and dress her in rags, does that change her identity? Only in her mind. Even when freed from the prison, she may hold onto the lie. She may cling to the rags because without them she feels exposed, not knowing that under it all, she wears a royal robe. But as long as she does this, she will never be free. She will carry the prison in her head.

The greatest lies of abuse are these: This is normal. This is your fault. This will end on its own. This never happened at all.

It's strange how they can all exist simultaneously in one brain. Abuse causes confusion.

I have come to understand that they are all lies. It is not normal. It was not my fault and it did happen. It must be stopped. Yet, there is one more lie that continues to trap me and impede my progress: You can't tell anyone. They will hate you.

Image Credit: everydayptsd.com

Hate me or not, I will not hold onto this lie anymore. I'm tired of being afraid. I will talk about it. I. Will. Not. Hide.

Today I take off these rags.

I was sexually abused as a child. It happened more than once. It was done by a man. Someone I knew well. Someone I loved.

I hated it. I blocked it out of memory. I never told anyone.

For years I felt guilty for my sexual knowledge and curiosity, never knowing where they had come from. I thought I must be bad.

I never knew why I would feel uncomfortable and ashamed when I tried to look pretty.

I couldn't tell you why I was afraid of men.

And I still can't explain the terror that comes to me when I talk about being abused. Even now.

But it can't be denied. I remember more all the time. And the more I remember, the more I want to block it out. Again. It is horrible. It is dark, grotesque and utterly sick.

The purpose of this blog is not to make you ill. It is not to burden you. It is not so I can play the victim.

An abuser told me long ago that I could never tell anyone. Every time I hide, I am continuing that abuse. No more.

I will fight. And I will fight it in the most effective way, by getting help. And that brings me to the point.

If any of you have been or are being abused, I plead with you to get help. Get away from it. Never go back. If you know that someone is being abused, I plead with you to report it. They need professional counselling. The abuser needs it too.

You may be afraid, and with good reason. There are safe places you can go--shelters-- where you will be protected and anonymous. You can ask a police officer, a social worker or a spiritual leader for help. You can call this number 1-800-500-1119  TTY (386) 872-4976 for the Domestic Abuse Council.

If you still feel trapped, consider this. I learned something about abusers, something that made me less afraid to fight. The reason they threaten you if you tell, is because telling on them will cause problems. You DO want to cause them problems. You have a wonderful opportunity to cause them so many problems that they will never be able to abuse anyone again. They threaten you because they are afraid. The reality is, they will have a very difficult time doing anything to you while they are in prison.

Even if you're not afraid for your life, it's scary to tell-- I know it is!

Do it anyway. You don't have to write in in a blog like me. But tell someone---Your parents, a doctor, a bishop, a police officer or teacher---someone who has never abused you, someone you trust. They can help you stop it. You can also call the hotlines listed below, or click the links. (Note: If you suspect that your Internet use is being monitored or tracked by the abuser, you can go to the library or a friend's house to check out the links.)

It is not your job to stay and be hurt. You are not a bad person if you stop abuse from happening to you. You are not bad for saying no. You are a child of God. You deserve better than a dungeon and rags. You deserve to be treated well. And so do your children. So does your family. So does everyone you know.

National Child Abuse Hotline

1-800-4-A-Child

1-800-422-4453

1-800-799-7233 1-800-787-3224 

(TTY)

1-800-656-HOPE 

Emotional Abuse.  TEXT “GO” TO 741-741

National Domestic Violence Hotline

Is This Abuse?


Child Sexual Abuse

National Sexual 
Assault Hotline

Cries of The Fatherless

Dear Dad,

I wish I'd met you sooner. I wish I'd known you before I learned to hate men. I wish I'd gotten to know you when I was trusting and ready to love anybody. I wish I'd had the chance to learn from you before I broke my heart searching and searching in vain for someone to be my father. I wish I wasn't afraid of all parental love, waiting to be disappointed.

I don't know how to love you but I do anyway. I couldn't help it, you know.

I don't know what to expect of you. I don't know what you expect of me. Parents are supposed to teach their children what's expected of them. I am my own parent, raising myself. Where does that leave me?

I don't really know what a good parent is. That is why I struggle so hard with being one. And I feel like I'm failing, so miserably.

Have you ever felt my pain? Have you, perhaps, in the agony of your soul, cried out for a mother or father? Have you, in your darkest abyss, felt the weight of the entire world on your shoulders and wished to God that someone would come and take it away? That someone would tell you what you were supposed to do? That someone would hold you in his arms and make everything okay? This is my life.

Yes, Heavenly Father does comfort me and I'm grateful. But I'm also a little jealous. Of your children. Of mine. Of everyone with parents who take on the world, so the kids can be kids. And I wish they would love me too.

I don't really expect anyone to adopt me. (I mean, is it fair to find someone who is all done with raising kids and ask them to take on a new daughter, who is, in all reality, about five years old?) I don't expect it, but I wish they would.

I don't really know if you love me. Because if I let myself believe that you love me, I might find out that you don't and then I would lose my father. Again. I've already lost my parents once. And I couldn't bear it. And so I push you away. But please don't go.

I want so much to be your daughter. Can you teach me how?

Find Your Power Within

 I love hot air balloons! They inspire me. They are beautiful. They rise above obstacles. They can carry others. They lift.

I've liked them since I was a small girl, but now I feel a reverence when I see them. These beautiful airborne vehicles have become a symbol of faith for me.

It was during a time of great difficulty and sorrow. My heart was breaking, mourning the death of my children. I was angry, anxious, depressed, hopeless. One day I saw a small air balloon wind chime in a store. I was impressed that it seemed to be going up, up, up. I thought, I want to be like that. All that day, I pondered about balloons. I even did research. It helped me to raise my thoughts to Christ. I could rise above my grief. With His help, I could see further. Here is the story.

I had been reading my Book of Mormon daily. One day, I came across a passage that I had read many times before. That day, I found what I needed. Nephi's family was travelling in the wilderness. He had a good attitude and his brothers did not. (See 1 Nephi 17:1-6.) We all know this story. In our heads, that is. That day, the Holy Ghost carried it to my heart with convincing power. I learned---in my heart---that I could be happy. I could rejoice in my wilderness, and I didn't have to wait for the Promised Land. I could be joyful outside of any circumstance. Poverty. Frustration. Death of loved ones. Feelings of betrayal. Seemingly never-ending, crazy-hard work. Not getting what I wanted. Not receiving the blessings I had looked for.

 I was learning that my happiness didn't depend on anything happening or not happening in my life.  Jesus Christ loved me-----had atoned for me.
ME!
 And nothing could take that away. I could be happy for Him. Because of Him. Nothing needed to change. And when I learned that I COULD be happy, something changed inside of me. I WAS.  

 And then a crazy thing happened. I stopped fighting the trials. I accepted them, was reconciled to them. I was even grateful for them. I felt stronger because of them. Many times I found Jesus Christ carrying my burdens, and sometimes carrying me. It wasn't quick or easy, but I learned that Patience can ONLY be learned though longsuffering. Patience is learned the hard way, or not at all. 

I didn't ask for the trials I've received and I'm not asking for any now. But they will come, I know. When they do, I want to rise.

I've been thinking a great deal about the balloon. It can be a type for each of us.

Consider for a moment. What makes the balloon rise?

It's the fire---the light----the power that they carry within themselves. 

Their light will shine whether they are up or down. But they were meant to go up.

Our light is our testimony of Christ. It may be small but even the largest flame began with a tiny spark. They can and will become great as we feed and nurture them.

The light requires attention and care or it will go out. Balloonists avoid going too long without stopping to replenish their fuel. We also must take care and replenish our light, through prayer, study and regular church attendance.

Like the hot air balloon, we can't rise when we're tethered to the ground. We have to let go of the things that hold us back. We have to not fight our power source. 

We carry burdens, some helpful and some not. Balloons only carry necessary burdens. The basket is heavy but it provides balance. Without it, the balloon would fly out of control. However, if the basket is filled beyond its capacity, it will never rise.

Some burdens, such as sand bags, are carried only for a time. Their adjustable weight helps offset the variable heat within the envelope (the big balloony part.) They are released when the balloon begins to sink or when they become unnecessary. We also can take on or release projects, depending on our strength. The condition of our light tells us when to let go. We choose what to let go of. (Hint: It shouldn't be the light.)

 Where can we find light?

  Jesus said,
"Hold up your light that it may shine unto the world. Behold I am the light which ye shall hold up---that which ye have seen me do. Behold ye see that I have prayed unto the Father, an ye all have witnessed." (See 3 Nephi 18:24.)

The answer to every question, is to do what Jesus Christ would do. He is our power. We can find Him in the scriptures, in prayer, in listening to the still, small voice. When we truly find Him, we will want to let Him in. He fills us when we are empty. He can raise us up, and we can raise others. He is our power within.

It Was A Lovely Party. And Then I Saw The Pictures

This was my bridal shower.

 I'd taken my bridal photos that day and thought I would look cute. Ha! I make wretched faces in all the pics but wait 'til you see everybody else's.

It started with a nice speech.

Then it got nerdy.

The toasting fork is nice. 

 And this gift is even "cooler".

 But this one gives me warm fuzzies.

 Dorky face.

This one is the best. These two women are watching me unwrap some intimates. Guess which one is my future mother-in-law.



(I totally love my mother-in-law. And I LOVE this picture!)

 Cleanup was fun.

I've been laughing at these for 8.5 years. Now you can too.

My Husband Gave Me An Hour-Long Massage Because I Wrote This

I love to talk about my husband. But I'm not going to brag about what kind of wife I am.  You'll never know whether I give good back rubs, cook his favorite dish or wear a swimsuit for the haircuts I may or may not give him. 

This letter is all you're getting. (I hope it makes you cry. I always like an emotional response.)

Dear Velcro, (Because I'm stuck on him.)

 I love you! Always know that. Everywhere you go, I love you. I am thinking of you. Eight years doesn’t seem like such a long time after all. I want more. So many more.

Thank you for being sweet and supportive. For working so hard. 

For dancing with me by candlelight. For helping me choose my clothes in the morning. 

For helping me shop. For letting me spend our money, knowing that you won’t get mad, even if I blow the budget.

Thank you for playing with our sons. Nothing warms my heart more. I look at you in those moments and think, “This is what a good father is.” 

I never had a father. Thank you for teaching me what they look like.

Thank you for cooking every single day. I know it gets old. I love you for it.

Thank you for being so patient with me, with the boys, with God and with yourself.

Thank you for trying to change for the better. I love who you are. I love that you want growth.

I love that you think I’m beautiful right when I wake up. I love how sometimes you suddenly stop and look at me and forget to listen as I’m speaking.

I love that you read to me and let me read to you.

I love that you let me sing to you. I love that you like it. 

I love when you write me notes. 

I love when you play your bells just for me. 

I love that you laugh at all my jokes.  I love that you send me flowers. I love that you open my door. I love your kiss on my hand.

I love that you help with the cleaning and laundry.

 I love that you remind me to work on my goals. I love that you work on yours.

I love that you taught me how to cross stitch, carve pumpkins, fish, make bread and shave a man.

I couldn’t ask for a better friend but I get a new one every day. It’s always you. Please let me love you forever and ever.

Your Lover

Our trials make me love him all the more, because I see him not giving up on me. Here's to forever.

Dealing with Depression: A Letter to My Mother-In-Law

Dear Mom,

Remember the day we went together to get my engagement ring sized? You were explaining to me how gratitude helped you and how important it is to stay positive. I remember we sang out our thankfulness for traffic lights, family members and pretty trees as we drove through the snowy streets.

When you looked at me that day, could you have imagined what the  next nine years would bring?

Did you see me lying on the floor at two in the morning, singing "I Am Glad for Many Things" trying not to go insane? And that first Christmas Day,  you confided your feelings of having no purpose after your children left home. Did you see me struggling with my identity when my babies died?

Did you know how angry I would be at God? Could you hear my screaming?

When you surrounded yourself with beautiful and cheerful things, did you know how I would stare at  sunsets and flowers? When you put humorous and uplifting messages in every room, did you know that I would do it too? Did you know how much I would need laughter?

All the times you invited me on your daily walk, did you know how important exercise would be to my survival?

All the times that you spoke openly about your struggle, did you know how I would need the support of others? Did you know you were freeing me from self-judgement?

When you made your own joy, when you forgave those who hurt you, did you know I was watching?

When you suffered so much, fighting your way out of a dark hole filled with fog and terror, did you know you were teaching me how?

Now you do.

You may wonder why you had to go through it all.

Remember the first time I pranked you at Christmas and invaded your Christmas village with green army men and tanks? Remember the dummy I built and put on your couch? All those times that I tried to make you laugh, all the times I dressed in funny clothes--all the visits and the talks we had---I thought I was helping you. I never realized how much you were helping me.

Thank you.

Your experience had at least one purpose. I have to believe that mine does too.

How to Make Miscarriage Suck LESS

I have had five  miscarriages. I've been pregnant seven times so that means I have a 71.4% failure rate. It sucks--It really does. And the more you have, the worse it sucks. (See my post.) There are times, especially in the first few weeks after a miscarriage, where nothing will help, at all, even a little bit, and you just have to endure, and pray, and get through one day at a time. However, while there may not be anything to make it better, there are a whole lot of things to make it worse and you can AVOID these. If it's too late to avoid the first two, you can still try the rest. Here's what you do.

1. Don't Tell Anyone You're Pregnant.

OK, you should tell your spouse and your doctor. Otherwise, Nobody. Not your mom, not your boss unless you absolutely have to. If you don't tell anyone you're pregnant you'll never have to tell them you miscarried. This way, you don't have to talk about your loss to anybody you don't want--and you can avoid hearing dumb questions over and over. Once you feel strong enough, you can tell select people that you've miscarried, and they can give you support.

2. Have Health Insurance

It really helps if you don't have to worry about medical expenses and it may even cover therapy, which I recommend.

3. Take A Break

You need a week or two off for grieving, to say nothing of physical healing. Work can wait. Get a letter from your doctor to make it official, then stay home and sleep in. You'll be crying, dizzy, unable to think straight, having no motivation and little physical strength, with occasional seething rage. (And the possibility of a bleeding mess.) Trust me. A sane boss doesn't want you there. Take your rest and do some things that you want. Continue for as long as it's helpful. See # 7.

4. Avoid the Person, Place or Activity That Is Most Painful

Pick one or two things that bother you most and feel free to skip them. Refuse to feel bad about it. My personal choice is baby showers. I avoid baby showers like bubonic plague and conjunctivitis. I also minimize my contact with chatty pregnant women. (You can probably think of a few. They don't mean any harm but they can't stop discussing pregnancy and it's seriously annoying.) There is no reason to exacerbate your difficult situation by forcing burdens on yourself. Once you feel ready, you can pick up where you left off.

5. Get Enough Sleep

Really. In the first few days, it may be the only relief you get emotionally. Don't stay up late. Sleep deprivation causes every kind of mischief. Plus, the physical and emotional stress you're experiencing places increased demands on your body. You'll need extra rest, perhaps for a long while. Give yourself a break and go to bed as soon as you want. Take naps. Sleep in sometimes, perhaps often. If anxiety or depression keeps you awake, sleep with lights on, have a good cry, do yoga before bed, turn on soft music or read a low-stress, spiritually uplifting book. Ask your doctor about sleep aids, natural and otherwise.

6. Keep Taking Those Vitamins

It may be hard for you to do anything for you, and it may seem pointless when there is no longer a baby to benefit from your self-care. Do it anyway. With or without a baby, your body now has to heal and transform itself to a non-pregnant state. It's almost as much work as growing a baby. You don't want to become deficient in vitamins and minerals--that makes everything worse. Keep taking them regularly. If you can't make yourself do it, ask a friend to remind you and make you accountable.

7. Make Yourself Get Out And Do Stuff

When you wake up in the morning and your body says "Get up" and you mind says, "What for?" that's normal. You do need to get up though. After your initial rest, staying in too much will not only lose it's usefulness but actually cause more depression and anxiety. It's time to get back in the world. You may hate everything you used to love and think nothing sounds fun, but chances are, it will end up being more fun than you thought. And it will help you, little by little, to get out of the rut. For me, having a (flexible, non-demanding) job was the best thing. It forced me to get dressed, to comb my hair and to focus on something other than my misery for a few hours.

8. Exercise!

Relieve stress and occupy your thoughts with something you CAN control. Exercise does it all. I have had great results from hiking every week. Think about it. You've climbed a mountain! You've accomplished something difficult. You're getting fresh air, sunshine, exercise and a change of scene all in one. You'll have positive memories to look back on. And, if you're feeling fat or slobbish, a workout helps with that too.

9. Try Not to Think Too Much

Make time for physical activities. Thoughts and feelings are important, but don't make negative thoughts the center of your life. Get things done. Work with your hands. Try something new. Don't get caught in the guilt-building nightmare of "I should have," "I wish" or "If only." Instead try, "This is the situation. This is how I feel about it." Allow your feelings. Process them when it helps and distract yourself when it doesn't.

10. Don't Go Back

You'll need time to grieve and cry. Give yourself this time. It's a process that may take years. However, once you've got past the most painful time, (probably several months,) don't keep going back. Dwelling on the pain long-term will not help you. Instead, try to focus on the positive as much as you can.

Things will get better. There is always hope.

There is one more thing that really helped me. I tried to think of what purpose God might have for me and why I kept having miscarriages.

I found one; so personal, so wonderful. And I received a special witness that my children are real, mine, and they love me. My Leif, Jenna, Alice, William and David. I do have seven children after all. And despite all naysayers and advice to the contrary, I do not believe that I'm done. God has a purpose and I will not fight it anymore. His way is always the best way.

I believe He really will wipe away all our tears. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning"-Psalm 30:5

Six Questions People With Big Families Wish You Would Stop Asking

I have a big family. My sister has a big family. (Everybody in my family has a big family.) Guess what. We like it. Stop assuming that we don't and stop assuming that our parents were crazy. They were, but you can't just assume that everybody who wants kids is crazy. Chances are, they were perfectly sane until they became parents. And some people actually like their kids. Really. So quit all the shocked stares and sorrowful shaking of the head. And never, ever ask these cliche questions again.

1. So, You're Done, Right?

Are you done asking me about my romantic life and use of contraception? What are you, my doctor? Make like my mom's third baby and butt out.

2. Are You Crazy?

Probably. But maybe it's you. My siblings are hilarious. My children are hilarious. I happen to love to laugh so it's natural to want to fill up a room with highly entertaining people. If you don't want to, you might be crazy.

3. You Have Eleven Siblings? Did Your Parents Ever Do Anything Else?

After I get done cringing at your vulgarity, you should understand that under the right conditions, trying for babies once a year for twelve years can produce twelve children. I'm not saying that's what they did because, oh my! It's none of my business! And none of yours.

4. You Have Two Babies And You're Pregnant Again? Don't You Know What Causes That?

Um, no. Won't you please explain it to me? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I was there but it's just a bit fuzzy, ya know?  Hmmm. Interesting. Well, now that I know, I'll definitely make different choices, and all because you took a moment to ask impertinent questions. Thank you so much.

5. Was It Planned?

As a matter of fact, I want kids. Having kids close together so they can have a playmate? Totally on purpose. You know what wasn't planned? Having this conversation with you. I tried really hard to prevent it but, you know. Accidents will happen. If only there was a pill or something.

6. Don't You Care About Overpopulating the World?

No. Your reluctance to reproduce is more than adequate.

In all seriousness, the births in most developed countries are below the replacement rate. More people are growing old and dying than are being born, which is a real problem economically and strategically. Somebody has got to have children and teach them to be responsible, ethical citizens. You're welcome.

BONUS QUESTION

7. Don't You Need A Better Financial Situation Before Trying for Kids?

Don't you need to get the facts before you speak? By the way, I'm not going to tell you the facts. (They're none of your business.) So don't speak.

Questions You Should Ask

Can I get you some water?

Yes, thank you.

Would you like to sit down?

Sure thing.

When can we do a play date?

Friday at 2 pm.

Wanna hang out and watch a movie?

Yes! What movie?

Is there anything I can help you with?

I think I'm okay right now. Thanks for asking.

Are you excited?

I can't wait to hold him.

Are you just amazing?

Awww. Mostly, I think kids are amazing.

Are your parents strong and courageous?

They must be. They put up with me.

Are you ready for this?

Bring it on.

Are you having kids just to pass on your stunning good looks?

How did you know?

If you have five kids, you have a basketball team. Have a few more and you've got a full dugout. Whether you're into sports or want your own personal choir and stand-up comedy club, a big family will never leave you bored. (And they may never leave at all.)

In my family, two's company and three's a party. We smile, we laugh and joke. We say, "Do you remember?"  And we do remember. And we fall off our chairs sometimes. When I get together with my million best friends who I've known my whole life, I feel a closeness, a security that can't be replicated anywhere else. We have our fights, our disagreements and our times of sorrow, but this feeling of safety, of belonging is what keeps me coming back.

Sometimes people ask me if I would go back and change anything about my childhood. The answer is yes. I would change a lot of things. But not my siblings. I'm keeping them forever.