A Year of Purpose in Review

It's time to look back on the last year and how my One Word has played out.  For 2017 that word was PURPOSE.

In anticipation, I expected I would approach things with purpose.  That I would more consciously choose what I did and choose things that had a real purpose.  A purpose of value.  That instead of running around putting out fires, which my life has so often been, I would take a breath and choose.  I would ponder, if only for a minute, what was the proper use of my time and energy.  And that did happen.  Some.

But often it played out differently.  I had something I wanted to do or needed to do and tried to find a deeper purpose in it.  I need to go to the library to pick up a book for my daughter.  But what is the greater purpose for this.  My daughter is currently house bound.  I'm going to the library as an act of service.  I am doing something for her that she can't currently do for herself.  There were many instances of that.

Or I tried to give something purpose.  I'm going for a run.  This run is to build my running base.  Or I dedicate these miles to a friend who is struggling.  Things such as this.

But most often it happened in the middle of something I was doing.  I'm on hour three of a Netflix binge.  Why?  What is my purpose for spending so much time this way?  It's an effort to avoid the struggles of my life.  It's an attempt to dull the things I'm feeling that I don't want to feel.  It's a weird way I can feel like I'm accomplishing something, as I check episodes off.  There was way more of this type of analysis than usual.

I'm big on examining my motivation for things.  But this was a bit different.  Looking for a purpose.  And asking myself if my purpose was a healthy one.  Was it good for me?  Did it serve a larger purpose?  What general direction were these choices taking me, and did that lead to my bigger purpose?  To the broader goals, the long-term goals, I have for myself.

I can honestly say I sometimes did well with this and sometimes didn't.  Finding out what my purpose for doing something was sometimes stopped me in my tracks and made me change direction.  Other times not so much.

I think this one will stick with me.  And it leads well into 2018's word.  Coming soon.

Questioning in the Church

I am Mormon.  This is the only religion I am intimately familiar with, so my thoughts center around this religion.  I would be interested to know how this topic is addressed in other religions, as well as what my Mormon friends think.  Feel free to share your feelings in the comments.

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What do you do if you are asked to do something by a spiritual leader but don't feel good about it?  What do you do if you hear something taught at church that doesn't feel quite right?  Or what if it all sounds okay, but you want to know for sure?

In The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons), we believe in continuing revelation.  We believe God will communicate to each of us individually if we seek it and listen.

And yet, there is often a judgment that occurs if someone questions something.  This is not doctrine.  This is not taught in our church.  But is it practiced by many in the society of our church.  And it hasn't been uncommon in my life to find people so sure about what is right and what is wrong simply based on what is socially acceptable within the church but with no doctrinal basis -- and judging others based on those standards.

Questioning is often associated with apostasy.  If someone doesn't believe everything that is taught, if someone seeks for themselves, they are often seen as falling away.  And I can speak from my life's experience and say that questioning is sometimes a part of personal apostasy (probably most of the time, but my experience is limited and I don't want to make a broad judgment).

But questioning also leads to further light and knowledge.  It leads to a stronger testimony.  Questioning is what led to Joseph Smith's first vision which started the whole restoration of the gospel.

Where is the line?

And beyond questioning doctrine, what about questioning leaders?  We have often been counseled in our church to avoid evil speaking of the Lord's anointed.  I have heard this to be interpreted many times as "never say anything negative about anyone in a calling of leadership."

Well, I looked up evil speaking on the church website.  It is defined as "saying things that are wrong, hurtful, and wicked."

The commonly accepted definition, never say anything negative, would allow evil to thrive.  Abuse of all kinds would be allowed to continue for fear of evil speaking of the Lord's anointed.  In fact, it has in the past.  In our church as well as others.  Certainly we should be able to see that keeping our mouths shut when something doesn't feel right is not a wise choice.  And speaking up is not a sin.

So where is the line between disagreeing with a leader's decisions and saying so and challenging their stewardship and authority?

Many people in my life have expressed attitudes that support blind obedience.  I absolutely do not support it and don't believe God does either.  God wants people who will study it out with their minds and hearts and choose to follow Him.  He wants enlightened obedience.

He wants people to have the freedom to think for themselves and not be judged or excluded because of it.  He wants people to hunger and thirst after righteousness and further knowledge.  He wants people who draw near to Him, seeking answers and/or confirmation.

We each make mistakes or hurt people in our various callings at one time or another, even our leaders.  We are not expected to be perfect.  But hopefully we grow and become better.  Sometimes this requires the honest feedback of someone who doesn't think what we are doing is right.

Talking behind someone's back about all the things we think they are doing wrong isn't kind and won't solve anything (we shouldn't do it about anyone).  But I believe sometimes we need to talk things out with a friend to see things clearly.  Not all talk about what we don't like that someone else does is gossip or back-biting.  Sometimes it's problem solving.  An honest seeking for truth.

But I do believe all questioning in the church needs to involve God.  I believe we need to pour our hearts out to Him and seek His guidance and answers, with or without consulting friends or the handbook or scriptures.

And we need to quit judging others and allow the honest questions and struggles of a true heart.

Letting People See My Scars

*** Warning: This post contains possible triggers for self-injurious behavior.  Do not read this if you are not safe. ***

I have a history of self-injurious behavior.  Self-injurious behavior is addictive.  If you don't/haven't self injured, it won't make sense to you.  It doesn't make sense in the logical part of my brain.  But my body remembers how good it made me feel and when I read or write about it my body begins to crave it.  Those who self injure understand.  That's why the warning is there.

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This post wasn't meant to be about self-injurious behavior (SI), but I guess it is.  I've written about hurting myself on my other blog (here, here, here, and here).  Read those if you want to understand it better.  What I haven't written is the post that really explains why I do it.  How it feels.  The high I get.  Why it's so compelling.  I'll write that some day, but not today.

This post is about revealing it.  Especially to my children.

Self-injurious behavior most often starts in the teen years.  Looking back, I definitely had some self-injurious behavior as a teen.  But nothing like what hit in my mid-thirties.

December 14, 2006.  I was thirty-six years old.  I was sitting in our white van outside my kids' elementary school.  I'd been on my way home from errands and decided just to park and wait there even though it was about an hour before school would be out.  And I was having a meltdown.  Everything was hitting at once.

I'd been in therapy for almost a year, so I was facing some pretty ugly and dark stuff for the first time.  I was five years into my struggle with chronic fatigue and a year into my struggle with my chronic headache -- both with lots of doctors, tests, and medication trials but no answers or improvement.  My husband and I were not good; we were discussing separation or divorce.  He'd recently chosen to have his name removed from the records of the church.  We were having financial problems and Christmas was right around the corner.  I'd had a difficult and confrontational conversation with my dad a few days before.  And I was on an anti-depressant that was making my depression so much worse.

I was losing it.  I saw the broken plastic spoon.  And I scratched.

This was the beginning of a long road of self-injurious behavior for me.  My arms are covered with scars, mostly very faded.  This was also the beginning of long sleeves.  In all sorts of weather, even coaching softball in the heat of the summer, I wore long sleeves.

Why?  At first it was because I was afraid of the reactions of others.  And because I didn't have the answers to the questions I knew would follow.  Later it was because I worried what it would do to my children.  How would I explain it to them?  I didn't want it to rob them of their childhoods because they were constantly worried about me hurting myself.  Or worse, killing myself.  (It's a common misconception that self-injurious behavior is a precursor to suicide.  That's rarely the case.  In my case, self-injurious behavior kept me from killing myself.)

But the time came when I was ready to tell them.  I was sick of living in long sleeves.  I was sick of hiding.  I was sick of feeling like I was lying to my kids.

I discussed it with my therapist and my ecclesiastical leader and my husband.  I told them I was ready.  We discussed possible fallout.  But I knew the time had come.

It was spring, 2009.  My oldest daughter was graduating high school.  We had a week-long graduation trip to California planned.  I would do it then.  That way they would have time to adjust before having to answer questions of friends who might see my arms.  And I could wear short sleeves on our trip.

My kids were 18, 16, 14, 12, and 10.  It was the right time.  The reveal went okay.  I answered questions.  I'd chosen to blame it mostly on the medication I was taking (which I think was what pushed me over the edge) and leave out so much of the ugly.  They didn't need to know all that.  I also told them I was done with it.  It had been a long time since I'd hurt myself.  I hoped that part was true more than I believed it was true.

Sometimes it comes up in our conversation.  I know they've struggled with it at times and had conversations about it I wasn't privy to.  I also know it's been used as a cool thing.  "Yeah, my mom was a cutter."  But it's mostly just part of who I am now.

And that was the end of constant long sleeves.  People don't really ask about my scars very often.  Medical personnel ask when I'm being seen for something.  Children sometimes ask (I usually just tell them my scars are from scratches).  Others either don't notice or are too polite or scared to ask.

I've relapsed a few times since then.  Each time, I've gone back to the long sleeves.  At least while the marks were fresh.  Mostly, so my kids don't start worrying again.

But since it's an addiction, it would be wrong to say I used to be a cutter.  I am a cutter.  I think it will always be a part of me.  An itch that occasionally hits me.  I work hard to stay in a healthy place so it doesn't happen again.  I wish I could say it never will.  But I can't.

These scars are me.  They are my triumph over something so dark and ugly that most people never experience and will never understand.  They saved my life.  And, honestly, I like them.

Tell Me What You Know About God

Or what you believe.  Or think.  Or understand to be true.  Or wonder.

And then I'll tell you what I know and we'll both be better for it.

If I tell you what I know, and it's different from what you know, will you take offense?  Will it cause bad feelings between us?  Will you feel judged by me?  Will you feel superior to me?

If I tell you what I know, and you are unsure about God, will it make you feel insecure?  Will you feel like I'm trying to convert you?  Will you feel like I'm trying to tell you what to believe?

If you tell me what you know, will it be because you want to convert me?  Will it be because you feel it's your duty?  Will it be because you have truth that I should have?  Will it be because you care for me?  Will it be to condemn me?

If I tell you what I know about God, will it make you uncomfortable?

If you tell me what you know about God, will you try to use it to control me?

I'm fascinated by the beliefs of others.  My faith (the faith within me, not my church) brings me so much joy.  I wish everyone could experience it.  But I don't believe my faith is the only way to find joy.  I believe truth brings joy.  I believe there is a lot of truth out there that I don't know yet.

I've spent my whole life surrounded by people who were almost all members of the same church as me.  I used to think that meant we all had the same perception and understanding of God.  As I've grown I've learned this is not at all true.  There are some general things most of us believe, but there are also differences.  We know different things.

Because you can study and research and ponder every word that has ever been written about God and not know Him as well as a little girl who prays when she is scared.  This little girl who feels something outside of herself that makes her feel safe.  This little girl who feels a strength beyond her own.  If all you do is read and study and ponder, she will know more about God than you do.  Because she will know God.

Maybe you've felt something, sensed something, been aware of something beyond what you can explain.  Maybe you aren't ready to call that God.  Or maybe you call it something else.  I'd love to hear your story.

Or maybe you've never had a sense of anything beyond this world and think others are deceiving themselves.  That it's a happy fairy tale we use to make this world a little less scary.  I'd love to hear your story, too.

A few simple truths I know about God.  My truth.  (People say truth is truth and we can't have different truths, but I don't believe that.  Because our truth isn't just about what is true.  Our truth is also based on who we are and how we can receive it and process it.)

God is aware of each of us individually.  He was once like us.  He experienced mortal life on a world like ours.  He is now God because of the way He lived that life.  He earned it.  He is the Father of our spirits.  He has a physical body but not like ours.  His body is perfected.  And as His children, we have the potential to become like Him.  To do wonderful things after this life.  And hard things, too.  To continue to grow and progress and become.

As our Father, He hurts with us.  He allows difficult things to happen but almost never causes them.  He knows the best us we can be.  He knows hard things are how we get there.  He knows we are strengthened by the resistance of trials.

He knows me.  My life is better when I turn to Him and let Him guide me.  He does not control or force.  If we want Him to be a part of our lives, we have to choose to invite Him.  He waits for that invitation and it brings Him joy to answer it.  We are His purpose.

These are some of my truths about God.  As I grow and learn and experience some of them might change.  Some of my truths will be expanded upon.  I might see others from a different angle.  And some of them may no longer be my truths.  It will be fun to see.

Now I've told you some of what I know about God.  All those questions I asked in the beginning, I'm asking again.  Do you feel threatened by my truths?  Do you feel judged by my truths?  Do you feel superior to me because of my truths?  Do my truths align with yours or challenge yours?

I would love it if you'd share some of your truths with me.  Or just thoughts or feelings or questions.  Questions we can ponder together.  Tell me what you know about God.

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I welcome all opinions and viewpoints, but if you are unkind or abusive or disrespectful I will delete your comment.