The One Piece

Dear Swimsuit Makers,

Why is there nothing good in my size? Yes, I am tiny and most people find that attractive but that doesn't mean I want to show it off in a skimpy bikini.
Why is it that there are sales for one piece swim suits but they don't even come close to my size? (that's what started this. A cute one piece on sale...$9.38 but not my size. A half way decent, boring, one piece in my size on the same site...$33.08. Are ya freaking kidding me?!)

The "half-off" $33.08 one piece in my size.

And where do some sites get the definition for "one piece"? A bikini top and bottom tied together with a couple stings just doesn't work for me. Just because the top and bottom are connected doesn't really mean it should be classified as "one piece".

Not a One Piece!!

Yes, there are sites and stores out there that sell cute one piece, modest swim suits, but they usually come with a pretty price. I want the one on sale for 10 bucks! Is that too much to ask? I mean really, it is less fabric!

Society says "be skinny, be tiny" but guess what, it is not all it's chalked up to be. Nothing in your size. Like, yes, America is fat but stores really should order more than 1 of each item in the small size. I find cute stuff, swimsuits or not, on the clearance rack but guess what...not my size!!! Never my size!! And it's always been this way.

Guess I'm done ranting for now. Got to get back to looking for something under $30 that fits me and covers up what only my hubby should see...wink* wink* haha!

Thankful for Meds

At first, I didn't want anyone to know. Even now I wonder if people think I am crazy for telling people. But I don't care. Why should I be ashamed of something I have and being able to take medication in order to make me feel better? If I had diabetes I don't think I would mind telling people I take blood sugar medication. Sure, some people don't want others to know about their specific health issues because they don't want the worry or the sympathy. We all want to be normal but, really, what is normal? We all have issues. Some bigger than others and some more on the outside than in, but we all have them. Me? I have anxiety.

Anxiety is something that anyone can experience in their life. It is an emotion. But it can also be, for some people, more than that. It can be a disease. A glitch in your brain that you can't control. Thoughts that you know are irrational make you feel a certain way and no matter how much you tell yourself it is irrational, you still feel crappy.

If you don't have that kind of anxiety, you wouldn't understand what it is like to feel it. Just like I will never know what it is like to be deaf or blind (I hope). Anxiety is hard to explain. It is like being stressed out over a million things to do all at the same time...only, you really only have one thing to do. You can't think straight. You can feel sick, whether it be an upset stomach, headache, dizziness, or whatever it might be. It is different for everyone. It can be aggravating and depressing all at once. You want to runaway from everything and everyone yet being alone seems like the worst thing in the entire world. It can feel like you are being pulled (literally) in multiple directions at the same time.

There are a few things that are specific to me that can easily cause my anxiety. Social situations is one of them. A recent example of this was going to Wal-Mart in Lindon. I don't usually go to that Wal-Mart and not knowing where things were was frustrating, as it might be for anyone. But instead of just dealing with it, it felt as though the store were closing in on me. I was walking in circles. Time was moving slower and I felt like I had been there for hours. My kids seemed louder and more obnoxious. The isles were suddenly overly crowded. It was hot and uncomfortable and I could have sworn other customers were following me. They were right on my tail and I was constantly trying to get out of the way. They were looking at me like an outsider and I felt their eyes on me and could hear their judging thoughts in my head. Women were racing me down the isles like I was going to take the last box of granola bars from them. The World of Wal-Mart was out to get me and I was ready to sit down and cry.

It's times like those that make me say to myself, "It's time to make an appointment with Cheryl (my therapist). Yep, not only do I take medication but I also see a therapist. Call me crazy if you want but being treated for my "craziness" is better than actually being crazy.

Which brings me to one of the thoughts for this blog entry. Because I am finally (for now, anyway) on the right dose of medication I am feeling more like myself. Last year I struggled with finding the right dose and right medication. Mostly because I got pregnant and then had a baby and it put everything out of whack. Because I was feeling so anxious all the time it was really hard to be in social situations or talk to people or even get out of the house most of the time. Which meant I didn't make it to church very often. Of course, I used other excuses like church starting at 9:00am or not feeling good or having a brand new baby, which were all true. They just came a lot easier to use when my anxiety was bad. Making myself put the excuses behind me and forcing myself to go could bring me to tears. I didn't think it was all that bad going to church once a month. And then January hit. Church now starts at 11:00/ My baby is no longer a newborn and I was finally taking the right meds.

First Sunday in January I went to church and it felt great. Like I had been missing out....because I had been. I didn't really think about it because I don't have many close friends in my ward that I missed. But being in church. For the real reasons. Learning the Gospel and feeling the Spirit is what I missed without even realizing it.

And for that, I am grateful for my medication. I don't feel as anxious to go to church and sit by people I don't know. I can say hi to people and get to know others. I don't feel like hiding in the corner or running out before the closing prayer. I want to stay for classes and meet new friends. As I am writing this I am wracking my brain, trying to think of the last time I got up and bore my testimony in Sacrament Meeting. I really can't think of anytime I have, other than at the end of the talk I hating giving. But the last Sunday in January I did it. I just walked right up and did it.

I'm sure many of you have felt this way before. That burning feeling you get that you should get up and do it but then someone else gets up and you have that sense of relief that you just got out of it....until that awkward silence when no one is going up and you know it's your turn....and then someone else gets up...phew! Well, it was like that for me for most of the meeting. And then the last person went up. Bore their testimony and then time was up. The Bishop was going to get up and close the meeting and I felt like I had made it through without having to get up...but he didn't get up. The last moment of awkward silence came and I couldn't take it anymore. The anxiety of not going up out weighed that of going up. It was like I couldn't take it anymore and Jake actually said I looked angry or annoyed. I told him I was annoyed. Annoyed that I couldn't just stay in my seat for 2 more minutes.

It was short and sweet. Like a little kid's testimony but for the first time I didn't feel like I was going to pass out or that my words were all mixing together or that I just wanted to sink down, behind the podium. And of course I mentioned I had anxiety and that it was the reason why some people may think I am new to the ward even when I am not. That I have a hard time talking to people. So what do people do after you tell them a thing like that? They come up and talk to you, of course. I was a little annoyed because I am so used to keeping to myself but decided it wasn't that bad in the end.

And since then, I have been better about going to church. I don't have perfect attendance but I am doing a lot better than I have been. I just hope I can keep it up and that my meds keep working the way they are.

I know some people struggle with trying to be on the right medication and it can take years for them to finally find something that works for them. And then I know others that are able to get off of it altogether once they have worked out certain issues. I tried that. Worked out all my issues, I thought, and went off meds. Had the worst 2 weeks ever. Decided it just isn't time to be off meds. Maybe some day I will be able to but that day is not today, or even tomorrow. I have heard of lots of other, more natural, "cures" for anxiety, (diet, exercise, etc.) but because of what is going on in my life right now, just thinking about those things stresses me out.

So I guess for now I'll stick to what I know works and be thankful that I live in a time of modern medicine that works for me.

Thankful to be Me

Simple as that. Everyday I think of more to be thankful for. Things I don't usually feel thankful for. Things that I shouldn't take advantage of like I do.

I hear and see things on TV and Facebook that sometimes make me wonder how I ended up with the life I did. And makes me wonder how I am even allowed to think about complaining.

I was born in a time of heat, air conditioning, running water, electronics for just about anything that would require hard labor, medical technology, cell phones, etc.

I was born in America to a middle class family that were already members of The Church.

I think a lot about Russia. Not because of the Olympics or anything but because a little bug or something climbed in my head a long time ago and said I was going to adopt from there. I don't know when, and lately I don't know how because of the new law there, but I do know I will eventually do it.
I think about the children there and in countries all over the world that are in orphanages. Rows of beds, dirty clothes, little food, and little warmth. No one to pay for medical expenses. And I wonder, how did I get so lucky? And why do they have to suffer?

Makes me think of the bigger picture. Having a body and coming to earth must be the most important thing we will ever do, throughout eternity. We knew of the hardships we would have and yet we still chose to come. Makes me wonder if I was a big baby about it. I wasn't one of the stronger ones that said, "Let me be born in "whatever" country and in "whatever" time and I will deal with the hardships of that land and time. Put me in Germany, in 1940, and better yet, make me a Jew." or "Put me in Russia, born with FAS, a mother that abandon's me and a life in an orphanage that has little heat and little food and only a few caretakers." or "Give me a family but make them abuse me in the most horrible way possible until I lose the will to live." or "How about the Middle Ages where I watch everyone around me die of plague and then I do the same."
I could go on but we all know how hard things can be and have been for people.

I've talked to Jake about this and he tells me that we all have our own hardships to go through and they are made for us. We were born at the time and place we were for a reason. I know this is true but I just can't wrap my head around it. I understand that we are all born at the time we should be but why am I one of the lucky ones?

Sometimes, I just wish that I would remember this more often. Remember that things could be worse and I really shouldn't be complaining at all.