I think I'm programmed or wired to be depressed.

I had an interesting thought today. I'm not sure I can explain it well.

Imagine a group of friends. Just about five or so. Expand them to about the size of a big band. Around 20 people. Let's increase even more... say about a hundred people. Maybe envision a football team, or a small marching band. Increase that marching band to about 200 people. They can do pretty detailed drills on the field now. Now take two of them... three of them... four of them. Ten of them. Grouped together in your mind in organized circles. You can't really see the individuals anymore, just a mass of heads in each group of 200. Now we have 2,000 people swimming around in our minds. Add on more and more. How many people can you visualize? Do you have any notion of how many people there are living in America? 1 mil is just a number. Get a large body of people together in your mind, and I ask you... can you visualize 1 million people? How much space would they take up?

I have often wondered when the world will end. Does it end when the last soul has been born into the world, or does it end whenever God chooses and we can have children during Christ's reign in the millennium? Whatever the case, my mind expanded today. I visualized hundreds of millions of souls still waiting to be born, and God near them, as if talking to them and explaining to them their task on the earth. My mind expanded even more and wondered how much bigger the group would have been when God presented his plan of the creation of this earth. I am probably not doing any of this justice, it was certainly an amazing experience that I probably can never explain well.

This earth had a beginning. By definition, it must have an end. "Forever," by definition is never-ending. So... If life after death is never-ending, logically, that means there must not have ever been a beginning.

So I began asking myself... What is the purpose of this life? "It's a test." "We are here to learn." "We are here to experience this life so we can know how to govern worlds that we possibly will be able to make." I've heard most (if not all) of the answers my church can give me. It seems my only choices are life in heaven with God, or burning in hell. But what is the point? What am I here for? How can I explain this...? I can't even say the question. I don't know if there are words to say the question.

There is no cease to exist option. Somewhere in that great beyond there has to be nothingness. But all of my above statements seem to contradict that. If my purpose here on life is to learn, and others out there in other worlds are there in their world to learn... won't we run out of space? There has to be something. There can't only be two options. Whether I will be building my own worlds or burning in hell for the rest of my existence (which gospel says will last forever), won't whatever it is become boring and "everyday?" Can one burn long enough for the flames to become a tickle or a caress? Another world here, another world there. To me, right now, forever anything is a depressing thought. Can't I just eventually... cease to exist?

When other people think about how big this world is (and yet how small), and how many people there on it now, and how many people that have lived on it before, and how many still are waiting to come, they start to feel grateful that God even listens to them and knows them by name, despite how many other people there are that he also knows and listens to. Me? I get depressed. It is nearly instantaneous. Why would He care about me? Why would He know me? Little ol' beat up me. In my mind, He has no obligation to care for me, not when so much has thrown me down and beat me to rubble.

Maybe I'm just wired to be depressed.

Coming changes

I am writing this post to inform all my wonderful readers that I will be changing the content of this blog. I'm not deleting anything, goodness, this is almost journal for me. From here on out, I shall only talk of things not relating to my abusive past. If you are reading this blog only to learn from my experiences regarding that, I'm sorry. I have made a new blog (completely anonymous from this blog) exclusively for my healing process, and I'm debating giving you the link, because my original purpose for that blog was to give me a place to vent my anger, and bitterness, and whatever else I needed to get out - completely anonymous. And to allow myself to get as depressed I need to without feeling like I am worrying my family. If you don't know me, and was reading this blog solely with the intention of learning from that part of my life, maybe we can work something out, but I can't know that unless you comment on this post. While writing, and remembering why I made my new blog, I decided that for sure I won't be posting the link publicly. But if you wish to read that blog, you can put your e-mail address on my comments. I won't publish your comment on my blog, but I will e-mail you (and only use your e-mail for that one e-mail) the link.

That's the best I can do for you. If you are family, and truly wish to see of the ugliness within me (it will not be a fun ride) then I suppose I don't mind sharing it with you as well. But I won't be holding myself back on there. I won't think of you any less if you don't want to see it. Heck, I don't want to. But if you truly want to know, I won't keep that from you.

But you have been warned.

On a happier note, I had a pretty good day today, all things considered. Somehow (amazingly) I was able to finish all my homework and reading I needed to. I read Merry Wives of Windsor in less than 12 hours last night. I finished my 日本語 homework... though I'm not sure the sentences I made were actual sentences... it is amazing at how learning a new language can make me feel completely incompetent at being able to express my thoughts.

Yes, it has been a better day. We'll see how everything continues to play out. I may continue to post things about how I am feeling, but I won't delve deep into anything regarding the previous subject. And with that said, I shall now push the orange button that says "Publish Post."

Bloody nose day

I didn't post this on my groundhog post, but groundhog day this year has been officially deemed by me as the bloody nose day. In my first class, one person left the room plugging her nose. I can only assume that she had a bloody nose. I don't personally get bloody noses very often, but yes, even me, in my fourth class started to get the bloody runs dripping through my nose. When I was writing a long essay question about the reading (which the teacher does sometimes instead of quizzes... I'll say here I like the long essay questions a lot better than quizzes, because I may have not caught on to what she put on the quiz). Naturally it would happen then. I'm sure the teacher would have allowed me to leave then and take care of it and write the quiz thing after, but I didn't want to worry about that. So what did I do? I grabbed my nose and tried with one hand to open the newly bought (good timing that...) package of tissues, which I have since learned is impossible. The person next to me helped me open it and get a tissue out. I held it to my nose (by this time the teacher had noticed my distress, and seemed about to ask me if I needed to take care of it) and I continued writing. It wasn't particularly pleasant, but ah well. I finished everything I had to say and left to take care of business. I talked about the experience with my classmates as we waited for our next class. I found it highly ironic that I should have a bloody nose on the same day that someone else in my class left class for it. Even more ironic? Someone in that next class also had a bloody nose. I come home and tell Pro Boxer, and what else?? He had a bloody nose as well.

It was a bloody nose day.

On to other things.

I don't know what to talk about. I have so many things, I hesitate spending the time updating you all, you all. Yet here I am. Maybe I'm just prolonging having to write a quiz that I have no idea how to write. There is a midterm that I'll have to start putting together... lots more meetings with the students still (tomorrow will be the last big day, but there are a few still after that), other things to plan for, lots of other things to plan for... Japanese club, Jazz Band stuff... Essay to write (I just turned one in today...), stuff. Just lots of.... stuff.

As for my emotional and spiritual health... there is lots of stuff to do with that as well. My ... employer? manager? whatever he is, the teacher that I'm working for (who shall be known on here as The King) seems determined to help me feel better about myself. I'm not sure how much I have talked about The King on here, but let me give you a run down. He was my teacher for a class last year. No idea how much of an impression I made on him, but he made a pretty big (and very good) impression on me. The class was Beginning Creative Nonfiction. I was merely taking it to graduate. I knew I wanted to focus more on Fiction rather than... really anything else. But The King is such a good teacher, that he can make me feel like I can do what I once thought impossible. It is all because of him that I am now taking the Adv. Creative Nonfiction. He got me to love it. There is something somewhat liberating about writing about my own life. Which is maybe why I continue to post on here, I suppose. Maybe I always loved it, but he got me to realize that. I call him The King (only on here) mainly just as an inside joke that only I get. Well, he would too if he ever read my blog, which I doubt.

Whatever the case, I must have made some sort of positive impression on him, because when it came to choosing a TA for his class this semester, he came to me. He called me up telling me that he needed to give the people a name that day. Which leads me to believe (I have never asked him) that he didn't really know that he had to pick someone and he had to make a snap decision. Whether or not that is true I have asked him once why he picked me. I hadn't applied, in fact, I had to go through the application process after I had already landed the job. His reply? I was on his short list of people that would work well. Smart, well-spoken, reliable, motivated. But "for reasons [he didn't] quite understand, [I] seemed like the right choice." And yes, that is a direct quote, because he sent this to me via txt, and I have locked it so I won't ever lose it. I'm LDS, "Mormon," whatever you want to say. I can read between the lines and see the possible revelation lying there. I can't quite remember his wording on this, but he has told me something to the effect that he wishes to cure me of my hatred for myself and to get me to see the good in me, I guess. He has read some of my poems, he has read a lot of my work for the class I had with him last year. He is a great reader and can see the bitterness behind my words. I have had txt discussions with him about religion, faith, trials... and for some blasted reason, I can listen to him. He isn't telling me anything any different than what my friends and family would tell me to get me to gain my faith back. He tells me that it is God blessing me. Whether or not that is true... somehow his words are able to strike a chord with me. I'm still bitter. I'm still angry. I laughed at him when he told me that he wanted to help release me from the lack of faith in myself.

I told The King today that I'm just bombed. I'm so loaded down with so many things that I need to do (and really should start working on them rather than writing here), and that I blame him for it. I truly feel like I'm going to break, and break soon. He tried to help me feel better by saying that I'm doing an amazing job. Because of the person that he is, I know he was being sincere. "Yes," was my reply, "but there is only so long that I can continue to be great in everything that I am doing before I break." (this statement I'm just now beginning to realize, The King might have been pleased with his work... normally I would have scoffed at his compliment, but here I accepted it and said that I was great in other aspects as well...)

"And think of how great it will be if you come out of this without breaking."

Yeah, that was his ever optimistic reply. I believe him. I can't not believe him. I accepted this job because I believed him. But at the same time, I can't not think of the negative in that. And think of how much more depressed I'll be if I do break. Cause I see it happening in the near future. Sure when things calm down a bit (after this week -meeting with the students about their first essay- is over) maybe I won't break then. But test making, quiz making, 30 page essay writing (for the Adv. Nonfiction class - I blame The King for that as well), the concerts, the reading Shakespeare plays, more essay writing.... I truly believe that one of these days this semester I am going to break.

I wonder what The King will have to say when that time comes.

Ground Hog's day - did you have yours?

Here are the pics:

Bug showing his groundhog off (I think the shadow is my hand taking the pic...):

Silly face Bug:

Goof Ball intimidating his bro:

I don't particularly want to talk about how I am doing. I'm not well, just accept that. Don't be fooled by the smile above. I'm a pretty good actor, all things considered. Especially when there is a camera at my face. I'm totally swamped with work, school work, house work, work work... and any other sort of work that you could think up. I think I finally have found my limit. I may have over booked myself this semester. But it has already been a month, and I'm still alive. I guess that is a good sign. My faith? Who knows where that went. But that is all I will say. If you really want to know, call me. I won't promise that it will be a cheerful conversation, nor will I promise that I will believe anything you say to lift me out of the gutter. I'm in good company, and maybe eventually I'll get my faith back. The teacher I'm working for actually has the innate ability (or inspiration from God whatever you wish to say/think) to say things in such a way to make me think that maybe... it might be possible to believe again. We talk about lots more things than just the class stuff. Maybe one day I'll post such thoughts on here. But not now. I have dallied long enough and I am thinking that after all that, my brain has finally vegged enough to get to working again. I tried to apply myself to homework or whatever, but for whatever reason (probably just because I'm overworked and my body was rebelling) my mind just couldn't focus on anything longer than a minute. But I have vegged enough I think and now I can work on homework. A paper is due next Tuesday. 日本語 test Monday. A quiz to make for Tuesday or Thursday, lots and lots of reading... and yeah. Time to get on it.

Hope you enjoyed your groundhog today!

わかりません。(translation: I don't understand)

"Love they neighbor as thyself." ok. fine. but what if i dont love myself to begin with? what then?

Agency

The ability to choose.

It's a tough call isn't it? I can't imagine a life where I wouldn't be able to choose anything. Being told what to do every day every second of my life... I can't even picture it. Naturally it would be better if we all had the chance to choose, right?

But some people choose bad things. Some people decide that they want to take the agency of others. I have experienced that. I guess I may have some sort of idea what the world would be like if I couldn't choose.

So what is it? There is no grey... it is black and white. Should everyone be given the ability to choose (though some people may choose to use others and take away their agency) or not allow anyone to choose? I'm here on earth. Which leads to the fact that it is obvious what choice I made. (people not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you can find out what I'm talking about here: mormon.org) I choose for everyone to be able to choose. It is hard to say what happened before we all came here. Did we all have an idea of what our life would be like before we decided to vote for agency or not?

I met with my bishop again yesterday. Among discussing what realizations I had come to in the past few months or so, I also went to renew my temple recommend. When I first walked in, I had forgotten what I went in to talk to him about. But sometime in the middle of the interview, I remembered that I wanted to tell him about how I didn't feel worthy enough to be a child of God. I discussed this on here a few posts or so ago. As we talked, I realized that no only do I not feel that, but I also don't think it. I understand the concept. I believe/think whatever - that us humans are spirit children of Heavenly Father. Somehow along the way I took myself out of that equation. I see everyone else as children, but not me. Yes, I know that is quite hypocritical. Sitting there, talking (or more like listening... he talks a lot ^_^) to my bishop, I realized that I didn't know. Not only did I not feel it, but I didn't know in my mind that I am a child of God.

This morning, I think I realized why I was fighting knowing it so much. Because if it is true, that I'm a daughter of God, then why did I have to experience the things that I did? I couldn't understand how I could both be a child of God and still be used and abused and walked all over as I have. In my mind, it turned into a give/take thing. If my worth is that much, then why was I treated like that?

Some things my bishop said to me yesterday were very like things that I knew to be in my patriarchal blessing (as members of the LDS church, we have the choice to receive a blessing that tells us about ourselves and the responsibilities that we have on the earth). I'm not going to share them on here. This is a little too public a place for such things. However, it became apparent to me as I read my blessing again this morning that I wouldn't be able to fulfill my responsibilities without having to go through what I have.

For example: Jesus Christ had specific responsibilities that he needed to fulfill on the earth. Bringing about the salvation of all men by enduring the consequences of all our sins and sorrows. All of us. That is a lot of pain. Even the pain and consequences of my own sins I wouldn't be able to handle it. He endured that for everyone. Christ has been through our lives. My mind can't comprehend the process. But because Christ has felt what we felt, has experienced our pain and sorrow, He is someone who can fully understand and comprehend us. If we go to Him, He can help us overcome our problems, because he has done it as well.

It's kind of like my situation. I can't help the people I need to help unless I "go through the motions." For me to be able to help who I need to help, I need to experience the pain first. It makes sense, right? Someone who hasn't been abused can't really comprehend or fully help someone who has been abused. Depending on their personality, they can accept the person, but they won't really know how to help them.

It isn't particularly a pleasant thought, but at least knowing this, it may help me with that next step. With this explanation, I can understand how the two can coexist. A daughter of God, and extreme pain and sorrow. Who knows? Maybe I have already accepted the idea just by writing this post. But I can't explore that idea on here anymore. My kids are up and waiting for breakfast.

Have a nice Monday.

Friday the 13th

I am not one who believes in superstition. Just keep this in mind as I tell you a tale of my morning.

*for non parents... this is your tmi warning*

I woke up, and almost instantly, I just wanted to go back to sleep. Maybe it was some sort of premonition, or maybe it was because Bug woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that the toilet downstairs didn't work. I ignored him, wanting to go back to sleep. He proceeded to tell me that he had *poop* on his leg and foot. I didn't know how that could have happened and told him to wipe it off with toilet paper. Soon he gave up on me and went back to bed.

Morning comes. Bug wakes up a bit later than usual. And what do I find when I get my first sight of him? His pants/underpants are off. He has dried *poop* all down his leg. I pause in my attempt to get myself to do homework and lay him on a changing pad like a baby to wipe it all off with cold wet wipes. It doesn't do any good. The *poop* had a chance to dry on there so much that he was red in places. Diaper rash at age 5? Okay... sure. Bug got sent to the tub for a spray down. I didn't want to resort to that, but it was either that or using up an entire box of wet wipes. Bug finally gets *poop* free and dressed. I'm debating whether I want to go shower or not before breakfast. I decide to do it after. We start getting ready for breakfast (I had already removed the *log* from the carpet downstairs), Goof Ball was still asleep. Keep in mind the smell (I DID warn you about too much information...). Downstairs literally reeked. When I came back up to inform Pro Boxer that there was *poop* all over the toilet and bathroom floor, I told him that when he goes down there, he should wear a gas mask.

The table set, I hear Goof Ball finally deciding that he wants to wake up. I look down the stairs to see him diligently walking up the stairs like a big boy. He looks up and sees me and says, "Here," pointing to his leg where I see a little dot of *brown stuff.* I say down to Goof Ball, "That looks like *poop!*" I turn to Pro Boxer, "Looks like it may be a very *poopy* day." "I hope not," Pro Boxer's response is.

Turns out Goof Ball was also very *poopy.* He had it on his legs as well as his socks that he wore to bed. Throughout the week (starting Sunday with Pro Boxer) each one of us (except me... *crosses fingers...*) has had a spill of diarrhea/throw up. Bug and Pro Boxer had both, but Goof Ball seems to only have been on the diarrhea end. I opened up his diaper, and laid out before me, was a lake of *poop* (again... I DID warn you about too much info. I was not about to tell this story with any less graphicness than is already present). We wiped up Goof Ball and into the tub he went for a spray down (he also had some dry *poop*). Where as Bug laughed, Goof Ball screamed.

In the blessing on the breakfast food, Pro Boxer said, "Please help us to have an enjoyable day." I snorted. Course, we are amiable people. We took all this in stride, laughing all the way. Looking back, it seems that was the most enjoyable part of my day. I came home quite depressed. The house still smelled of *poop* when I walked in the door. I lit some candles, and asked Pro Boxer if the bathroom had been cleaned up. Of course, with the prevailing smell of *poop,* I kind of assumed what the answer would be.

I didn't get to my shower. It was either exercise and shower or go to sewing circle. I went to sewing circle. Don't judge me. When you have kids... you will understand. Not every day can be a shower day.

Happy Friday the 13th to you all.