I love my husband

I really love my husband. I can't tell you how much he means to me. I realize that I'm a newlywed and I have no idea what's ahead, but I know I'll enjoy it when and while I can.

Sure, we fight occasionally. Everyone does. It's usually over silly things and it doesn't last long anyway. They're more like discussions than anything. He has never yelled at me, and that's something I really appreciate.

Another thing I appreciate is that he makes a perfect friend for me. I get needy for affection from him at times. I get insecure and anxious at times. I get irritated, sad, and talkative. No matter how I am feeling, he knows how to respond. He makes sure not to spoil me or get me accustomed to too much of anything, but ensures that I am satisfied/comforted.

He doesn't mind fooling around. In both meanings of the word, but I'm referring to the G-rated version. He knows when to be silly and he knows that being silly together is important. It is a form of bonding that fosters friendship and stress-relief.

I love talking with him about issues. I like knowing where he stands, what he thinks, and why he thinks that way. We both feel strongly about certain issues and I like that, while we view things similarly, we don't think the same way about all of the same things. It is refreshing to discuss opinions, insight, experience, and knowledge with someone besides yourself once in awhile.

Anyway, just thinking about that today. I really love him.

Careers?

Ever since my first career choice when I was 5 years old, I have wanted to be (in order):

• A meteorologist
• A veterinarian
• An astronaut
• A police detective
• A prosecutor, then a defense attorney 
• A physician's assistant 
• A commercial sailor/fisherwoman
• A forensic photographer
• A forensic nurse
• A forensic scientist
• A coroner
• A forensic pathologist
• A legal mediator 
• A massage therapist
• A studio violist/viola teacher
• A geologist
• A forensic science technician
• A police officer
• A sociologist 
• A mortician
• A phlebotomist 
• A florist
• A social worker
• Anything to do with the CDC or WHO

Two things you've probably noticed: 1) these are pretty different and 2) there are a lot of them. I've visited a few of these options multiple times. Some of them were at times when I was really unaware of my limitations, others were because I was too aware of them. 

To be honest, I am still not entirely sure what I'd like to do. Right now, I'm in school with a declared major of Social Work, but I worry a lot about how I'd handle the job. Obviously, I'd love to actually help people (which is the main draw of this major), but I am really afraid I wouldn't be able to do the job well because of my mental illness. I try to work on breathing and thought control when I talk to people or when I'm in front of them, but I am not confident I will be able to communicate efficiently. 

I have other issues too. Aside from my social interaction problems, I am not very smart when it comes to mathematics or hard sciences. Obviously I love geology, but its sisters; chemistry and physics may as well be gibberish. On the other hand, while I love social science, a big part of social science degrees are careers that require a lot of social interaction. 

To make it short, finding a suitable degree or career is pretty impossible for someone like me. Oh, there is also this STINGING need to do something worthwhile/helpful/important. I just HAVE to do something I can wake up everyday and say: "I'm going to make a difference", or I won't stick to it. I absolutely could not go to work doing the same thing every day and getting nowhere. I have to know I'm making a difference. Preferably, I'd like to see the positive impact. 

Anyway, currently I am thinking of doing something with the CDC or WHO. I have always wanted to respond to disasters and help where I can. I would like knowing about diseases, world health issues, and prevention. Also, did you know that domestic violence is a health concern? I would like to have a hand in prevention and awareness of that as well.

I'm also thinking about being a forensic science technician again. I have gone away from and come back to this particular profession a million times over. I would just love to be one. I would love to gather evidence at crime scenes! The crime scene is the most pivotal part of serving justice. Getting every scrap of evidence that you can helps to ensure that the right person gets put away and that the recreation of the event is accurate. I love criminal justice classes and I just love learning about that stuff. My issues here are: 1) maggots 2) impact magnitude  3) the profession itself is dying out. 

I hate maggots. I cannot explain what they do to me, but I hate them. From my classes and common sense, I know I will come across many of them. I really hope that I can get over that. The impact magnitude refers to the amount of people I'd be able to help doing this. I know that the families of the victims would be appreciative. I know the courts would be appreciative, but I only found/gathered the evidence. I did not test it, use it, or prosecute/defend with it. My role was somewhat unimportant and it only affected a few people. Reason number 3 is the most important reason against choosing this career. Forensic scientists can do this. Police can do this. What state would hire someone only to gather evidence when their other employees can do that and then some? 

So...I really don't know. I feel bad not knowing, but that is how it is. The plan as far as next semester goes is to get an associate degree in Criminal Justice. I have a bunch of CJ credits already, so I can just get that and then go into Social Work if I still wanted to. I could get a BS in Community Health. I could get a BS in Criminal Justice. I could get a bachelors and then a masters in almost anything. 

At this point, it is all in the air.

Tough lesson

Not everyone is going to treat you how you deserve to be treated. You have to accept that. It's a tough lesson to learn, but once you learn it, you will treat others better. You should, anyway. You never know what someone is going through. You never know who's apology they're waiting on, why they're waiting on it, or how long they'll have to wait. Just apologize when you have to, always show kindness (or at least decency), and don't let someone who hasn't learned these lessons hold you back.

Viola

I can't tell you how much I love the viola. I don't really know if I could live without it. I mean really live. It is such a beautiful instrument anyway, but after playing it and having a connection, it becomes more beautiful.

I wish I was better at it. I'm alright, but I always wanted to be a virtuoso - they're the only ones who get taken seriously. Anyway, the only artistic things that have given me enough emotion to cry were: 1) The ending of The Crucible 2) The Boy in the Striped Pajamas 3) The viola.

I love the viola and string music. If you haven't found music that made you feel anything, you need to find more music!

Mental Illness

I have it. I am just one in many, and two in my immediate family of 8. It is estimated that 1 in 10 children is affected by it. It is pretty common and it can hit anyone, anytime in life. An issue I have is that it is still terribly misunderstood. There are all kinds of stigmas (which is why I am writing this) for people like me. To tell the truth, I am a little embarrassed to write this post, but please understand that this is only an attempt to aid understanding and cure stigmas.

I can't begin to explain how mental illness (mine are depression and anxiety disorder) disrupts my life. I can't tell you how much I try to be normal. How much I try to "put on a happy face" and "get over it". It is not that simple and if it was, I would have fixed it by now, I assure you.

• Most troubling to me is the need for sleep (and lots of it). If I can't get 10 - 12 hours, I will nap during the day for about 4 hours - no matter how long I've slept. My sleeping patterns are a horror. It is difficult to develop and continue a good pattern because it all "just depends". If I've been around people that day, I need even more sleep. 

• I get a strange physical reaction to people, some more than others. My throat closes up and my voice gets high-pitched. I sweat sometimes, and I blush other times. My heart races every time. I get really light and numb. I try to avoid contact if possible. I really wish I could control this aspect the most because it is probably the most debilitating. Think about it. You need to have good communication in practically any situation or you appear weak, unstable, or shy. I'm not shy. That isn't me, but people think it is because I hardly talk around people who aren't my immediate family. They think I am two-faced and fake because I'm scared - which is something I can't control.

• Pessimism. I can't help but expect the worst in every situation, especially when it comes to people. Pessimists are annoying, they drag you down, and their bad vibes are contagious. I hate this way of thinking, but I can't help but expect the worst - especially when it comes to society and social situations. Obviously what I think isn't entirely unfounded, but I know it's wrong because I've seen that people are good. I know that they always end up surprising me, yet I still think this way. 

• Another reason for the pessimism is that I worry all the time. What I worry about the most are things that I can't change. They are: Global warming, wars, getting old, natural disasters, being useless, being jobless due to what I am, and dictatorship. I worry a great deal about making people around me uneasy like I am. My doctor says that that is something I need to accept, but even after acceptance, it doesn't change how scary they are and how very imminent they are.

• My memory is really bad. It used to not be so bad (still not great), but after taking benzodiazepines for the anxiety (which was really working), I realized that my sentences weren't connecting anymore and I was forgetting names of basic things. I was forced to stop and my memory has yet to restore itself. 

• I am "sad" a lot. I don't know how to explain it, but it isn't simply sadness. It is more like nothingness. I feel like I am going nowhere and I have no hope and no prospects for warranting hope. I feel guilt for not being who I am meant to be, and I feel ashamed for not being able to "be strong". 

• Other common issues include: sexual dysfunction (which I will spare you the details of), irritability (poor Stephen), and weird, dull aches. 

What some people don't know is that there are bonuses to mental illness.

• For instance, when things do bring you joy, you appreciate them so much more. Think of it like this: a butterfly and an ant go to space. The butterfly, which is used to flying will still enjoy being weightless, but the ant, who is used to being grounded, will get more of a thrill. 

• We can understand and recognize mental illness in others. We have an instant connection with people like us. We can talk about things that other people wouldn't get and therefore, we have an instant fellowship.

You have to accept this part of you eventually. You don't have to embrace it and label yourself, but you have to acknowledge that it is there. I try to accept the good and the bad as me, because I know I'm not kicking this anytime soon. I guess it is apart of me in a way. Mental illness or no, I know who I am. She's in here.

There are three myths/stigmas following mental illness that I just wanted to address (the whole reason I started this post). There are many, many more, but I wanted to address these, because I see them a lot.

Mental Illness does NOT garner sympathy from others. For some odd reason, some healthy people want to be mentally ill. They say they are mentally ill (usually depressed) and do not seek help or medication. What this means is that the problem is not big enough to bother you to seek treatment and is therefore, BY DEFINITION, not mental illness. I've tried to gather the reason for this, and what I've deduced is the want for attention or sympathy. I hate to tell you, but you don't get this. If anything, you get the opposite. When I was first started on medication in fact, any irritability or overreaction was followed by "Did you forget to take your medication today or something?" or "Geez, take a pill/up your dose." You do NOT get sympathy and you do NOT get extra attention (at least good extra attention) by any means.

Mental Illness does NOT make you cool or neat. Sure, it makes you unusual, and perhaps quirky, but not cool. If a mentally ill person is cool, their coolness makes them cool, not their mental illness. In fact, mental illness puts a damper on your coolness, if you ask me.

Mental Illness is NOT something you can control. Someone related once told my mom: "I think I have what Vanessa and ________ have, only I can control mine better." FALSE. Basically, if you can control it without medication, you don't have an actual problem.

I hope this has helped you to understand where we come from and what mental illness is. Depression is especially common, and anyone can experience it at any point in their lives. If you are experiencing serious depression, seek help and remember that you are not alone. 

My most tragic tale

Right now I am married to the sweetest, smartest, most lovely creature on the face of the Earth. He is my best friend. We've been through a lot together. I've never been hurt so badly by anyone before and I've never been so uplifted by anyone. He is everything to me, he is perfect for me, he is my other half. I can't imagine anyone better-suited for me than him, but I was not always so sure.

We were both in very dark places of our lives when we met (for the second time). We were friends since middle school, and although we fought frequently, we secretly loved each other and I think we both knew it. For some reason, we lost touch after our sophomore year in high school.

Anyway, I had just lost my job due to mental illness. I had cut up my arm for the first time (also mental illness related), and I was due to drop out of school (for all kinds of reasons, the biggest being that I had no more money). He was not doing anything, really. He was entangled in pornography and the remains of a bad relationship - which eventually resulted in the most painful experience of my life.

He "never cut things off" (was still occasionally sleeping) with his ex and ended up cheating on me twice while we were dating. I'm talking about actual sex, of which we had not had at that point and was probably the reason he decided to do it. It was not long afterward that I lost my virginity to him, believing that he was everything to me and that our relationship was loving and pure. I had not known of this deceit obviously, but I absolutely adored him. I had fallen deeply in love ever since our first date.

At first, he was not upfront. He told me a story or two about an encounter that only resulted in lighter offenses. It hurt even then, but it wasn't until I heard the full story in July or so that I broke inside. I don't know how else to explain it...I was so angry. I was so distraught. I felt like I had been a puppet in some insidious plot made by God as a way to punish me. I had no one to turn to. For some reason, I felt like I could only find solace in Stephen, even though he was 50% of the cause of my suffering. He was still everything to me, I never stopped loving him.

It isn't like it was undeserved by me. I had consciously given my virginity to him. I just knew we were meant to be together. I knew God knew how I felt. It was almost like it was okay and that God understood and would have mercy on me because of my mental state. Obviously, this was not the case. God would never want you to hurt yourself.

He had been in contact with her this whole time. He had talked with her as if they were still dating behind my back. They even talked about me and my family sometimes. The second and last time they cheated on me was just before I came to his house that day. I called and, apparently, had interrupted their session. I knew he was acting weird, and I knew she was there, but I didn't piece together what had been happening. Once I hung up, they continued, finished, and she left before I got there. I brought it up and he said she was just there to pick some things up. I believed him.

As soon as I learned the full story, I was furious - especially at his ex. I messaged her, confronting her about what she had done. She denied everything - another blow. She denied ever even having a relationship with Stephen. She blocked me and had her friend tell me about how I was such a huge liar and how good her friend was - she would never do something like that. I couldn't stand being called a liar, after all of this. Of course, Stephen "didn't know what to do" and, in fact, did nothing.

I finally had him unfriend her on Facebook, about which he cried a lot. He "didn't want to be mean". After what he did to me? After what she did to me? After a long ordeal, he finally unfriended her.

It took forever to heal. Even now, I am not whole. I've actually gone to her house twice to apologize for getting angry and to give her flowers. She was very nice, but she still has not apologized to me, and I doubt she ever will. Why should she? She is getting married to the love of her life in the temple. She is seeing her bishop and being forgiven. Why should she apologize for poisoning my trust? My relationship? My outlook? My life?

It's completely unfair. The kicker? I introduced her to her knight in shining armor. He is a talented, smart, return missionary who would never do this to her. I'm the reason they got together in the first place.

To top it off, Stephen did not care to stop viewing pornography. He was discouraged because this had been a battle of his for a long time. I was patient, but I did not get the feeling after awhile that he meant to stop anytime soon. I tried everything. I started to cut myself every time I found out about it. I wanted him to see what he was doing to me (like I said, very mentally ill). It made sense to me, but since it didn't change his ways, I figured he didn't care.

Eventually, it all came to a head and I broke down for the first time in front of him. I could hardly stand. I told him that was it and I was leaving. I loved him dearly, but I was done being his chump. I was done with his emotional abuse. I cried hysterically as I attempted to leave his house, but he did something strange.

He cried too. Real tears, for the first time. He grabbed me and held me as close as he could. I swung my arms, trying to get away from him, but I was weak. I hit him in the chest a few times, trying to make him let go. I even tore his shirt, but he wouldn't let go. He would not let me leave.

Through his tears, he begged and begged for me to stay. He began spouting out all the things he loved about me and how sorry he was for all that had happened. He was genuinely remorseful for the first time. There we were on his wooden living room floor, crying. I knew then that he was finally going to change. And he has.

Stephen and I have grown a lot since then. He is not that person anymore and neither am I. He eventually realized the errors of his ways. He realized what he had done to me and has apologized profusely ever since. He has stopped viewing pornography completely. He is happier now. He is so kind to me now. He does everything he can to please me. His purpose is to make me happy. He loves me, I know it.

I have changed too. I have learned to be careful who you love and how you go about loving them. I've learned that patience pays off, but you have to be willing to deal with the consequences of that. I will do my VERY BEST to keep people from engaging in pre-marital sex. I had managed to avoid it for 20 years and I didn't realize how prevalent this problem was until I was part of it. It hurts in every way possible. You will always pay dearly for that sin. I have serious, chronic health issues stemming from the use of antibiotics used for the cuts and pus from losing my virginity. I realized early on that I have sexual dysfunction (which still causes me all kinds of pain). The worst part though, is not even the daunting repentance process or the judgement from others - of which I couldn't care less about - it's the disappointment from my parents and Steve's parents that kills me.

I wish I could tell them my story without breaking their hearts. I know they'll blame themselves, but it was our decision that we made with thinking from minds that weren't in proper shape. I am so sorry for what we have done and I have paid the price for it. I can't speak for Stephen, but I think he feels the same way. I just wish I could have made them proud.

It says in my patriarchal blessing that I will go through many trials in my life. It also says that I will teach young women and that "as [I] share the feelings of my heart about the gospel, [I] will be influential in bringing it to others". I hope none of the trials are as trying as this and I hope that I can teach those girls from my suffering. I hope I can teach them not to get into bad relationships and that God has good, big plans for them all. Most importantly, that their happiness is just not worth the temporal enjoyment of sex. It really isn't.

Welcome

This is my brain. It's what is on it, in it, and around it. I love blogs, and I figured this is a great place to vent, muse, rant, and whatever else I feel like doing. PLEASE enjoy! I write for me, but also for you. If you're curious about anything, feel free to contact me and ask! Love.