Tuesday, July 21, 2015

I Am A Voice

I have six kids, believe me I have seen my fair share of fits. I have seen them walk away quietly, but shooting daggers behind squinted eyelids with each step. I have watched them throw themselves on the floor kicking, screaming, and crying. I have suppressed giggles as they stomped loudly to their bedrooms telling me that I am not their mom, they will never "huggle" me again for the rest of their life even when I die. I have held my ground when they decided to go toe to toe with their momma and see just how far they could walk the line before the defiance and disrespect landed them in parells of punishment. Although, I can't say I have experienced or seen it all with them, I can confidently say I know what defiance looks like and I know what a temper tantrum in the making resembles and that my friends is me right now. I have fought writing this blog for nearly three weeks, I have dug my heels in and refused, I have stomped away pissed off, and I have shot daggers at my keyboard, however, this morning here I sit, computer, mind, and heart open about ready to pour myself out to you. Today, I don't have any deep nuggets of wisdom or insight, the analogies aren't creative or classy, today you get my heart.


I am so many things, I am a wife, a mom, a sister, a daughter, a niece, a cousin, an aunt, a triathlete, a farmer, a teacher, a writer, a recovering addict, a fighter, and a survivor! I am strong willed, stubborn, compassionate, tough, smart, quick witted, determined and I have BPD. I would much rather sit down and blog to you about my kids, my farm, my journey to competing in my 1st Ironman Triathlon, and even about my recovering addictions to cocaine, heroin, and pills. Today I need to take it to another level, I need to write to you about having BPD. Normally I type super fast, my fingers fly across my keyboard, pounding out a blog in only moments, however today, they recoil at the thought of the words I am about to pour out to you. Hiding behind the medium of my keyboard, talking about the detailed personal struggles of my life, with strangers, is really not a big deal, it isn't hard for me. Except I sometimes share what I write for you all in my own personal blog and occasionally put them on my FB page, this is one of those times and that is what is hard. Today, I need the world, strangers and friends alike, to know BPD isn't a death sentence, it sucks, it hurts, and it pisses me off, but it isn't the end all!


I have had a hard few weeks, probably some of the most challenging I have had in many years. Had the likes of these last few weeks occurred a couple of years ago I would have ran straight back to old comforts, cocaine, heroin and pills. In fact, yesterday, I mentioned to a very close friend of mine, who knows all of my struggles, I wished I could take anti anxiety medication, that is how tough these weeks have been. However, I can't. I can't because it is anxiety meds that started me on the journey of trippin' and I choose to not go down that path ever again. I've got this! I've always got it, but sometimes it would be nice to not always have to fight the fight. I'll admit I get resentful and jealous of those that choose to not fight. I get resentful and jealous of those that continue to use drugs to feel better, yes I know it's only temporary, but it's a familiar and it does temporarily work. I get resentful and jealous of people that choose to give into the struggles that are associated with BPD, when they don't dig out their big girl panties, but rather wave the white flag of surrender and take a time out. I get resentful and jealous mostly of people that don't have this struggle. OH don't get me wrong, I know everyone struggles with something, and if they tell you they don't, I'll show you a liar!So, I'll say it, I've struggled hard and bad the last few weeks, but no one would know, unless I told them, because I hide my struggles, I fight my battles alone, and really I told no one. Why? Pride! Fear! Embarrassment! Shame! What will others think! I'm supposed to be cured! Look at all I've overcome! Judgment! Vulnerability! Regret! Really, how does one talk about it, how does one bring it up? I look at the people in my life, those that will over react and panic (my mom, my ex husband) those that will worry too much when in reality it isn't a big deal (my husband) those that will think here we go again I've heard this before (friends that have been with me from the start) those that will think what have I gotten myself into I don't need/want her in my life (new friends, people at church, parents at my kids' school, etc) and complete strangers that will think I am crazy. When I see the camps I've divided people into I make the decision I will not talk about this, I will not discuss BPD, I will not put myself out there. Until that moment, I do, it's always when it passes that I can talk about it in past tense, like right now. However, I am different than most, I keep on keeping on, regardless, always!


Last night, my kiddos had gone to bed, my husband is out of state working, and I was scanning the likes of social media. Let me simply say social media is a crappy place to be for a person with BPD. I am at the phase in my life that I recognize triggers and will walk away from them most of the time, and social media is a huge trigger for me. It is a fine line! As I was scanning facebook, while watching teen mom (ha yes I'm 38 and yes I know it's trash tv but still!) I read a post that someone in my family put up. There are these meme that were created titled BPD things, and she had posted one. I read it, but tend to not comment on her posts as they are set to public and the world can read what I had to say. However, the 1st two comments were asking what BPD was. I fully take for granted that people know or don't know what it is, because it is a part of my life I just assume everyone knows. The instant misconstrued idea was that it is bipolar, it is NOT! The comments continued, I posted, against my better judgment, and I realized just how misinformed people are regarding BPD. I am not a monster, I don't have five heads, I am not crazy.


Suffering from BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) means I experience difficulty with intense emotions, to explain it a little further, I get completely dysregulated and nervous system activated, from those upsetting things that others can easily bounce back from and continue on with their day. Sometimes, even minor stressors can cause me to feel like I'm about to derail. However, I don't! I keep on keeping on and because derailing is not something I allow to be an option for me. Since I don't share the struggles of this the fight it is that much harder and lasts that much longer. As much as I say I am not a sensitive person, I am one of the most sensitive people you will ever know. I do not cry easily, I rarely cry at all, so that is how I justify saying I am not a sensitive person. However, I am sensitive. I am always very hyper aware of the dangers around me, whether I am conscious of it or not. This is especially  true in regards to how sensitive I am and how others will react to my sensitivity. Even though I KNOW in my mind, innocent things, are truly innocent, because I feel so emotionally sensitive I am always waiting for people to have enough of me and leave. This is where my flight or fight, nervous system activation, comes into play and for me it has been going strong for about 6 weeks now. I either run or I open a can of serious whoop ass and fight.


Last night as I read the comment on my cousin's post, from some guy I hope to meet face to face and show him people with BPD are okay people, my heart broke for my cousin and then my other cousin that posted. I know what it is like to live this way, to feel this way, and I want to protect them. I want to take it away. I'm the oldest cousin, let me carry it all for them, I've already worked my way through it, I don't want them to be where I was five years ago. As I felt this way, as I read what they wrote, as I read what their uneducated friends wrote, a thought I had tried to push out for so long came to the forefront. I need a support system of people I can trust with the good, the bad, the ugly. I need a support system of people I can be blunt and honest with that I can trust aren't going to take off running when they realize I'm not perfect, when they realize I struggle, when they see I feel things more than most. I used to have that, but right now I don't, and I realized how much I need this, how much I miss this. As I realized if this is what I need, if this is what I am afraid to ask of people, then how many more people, with a BPD diagnosis, need this same support system in their recovery, need this same level of trust that people aren't going to take off on them. This morning, I have vowed I will not back down! I will be that honest voice of what it is like to live with BPD, I will be that advocate that puts into place support systems because no one EVER should have to fight this alone no matter how dark and dirty and nasty it gets! BPD is not a death sentence, although admittedly it feels like one and more than once it almost literally was my death sentence. I have lost some of my closest friends I thought would never go which makes that ability to trust and develop a support system even more challenging. I have kept my struggles internalized because I don't want to be judged, I don't want to push people away, I don't want to have to answer 1000 questions. However, those struggling deserve a voice from someone that UNDERSTANDS, those struggling deserve a support system. Those that don't have BPD, don't know what it is, don't know how to be a support system deserve to have the opportunity to learn, to be given that choice to walk shoulder to shoulder with someone on their journey. I will show you how to be that support system to ask for those to be in your support system.


I have been told by a few different people, over the course of the last couple months, I am right beside you I will hold your hand every step of the way, I have been told I am here to walk shoulder to shoulder with you, I will love you through this. I always think, yeah right, if you only knew, what are your conditions for this support and love? But, what if they knew? What if I was honest? What if I allowed others the opportunity to know me, all of me? I'm not a bad person, I just have junk in my trunk! What if because of my pride I am depriving someone else the opportunity to know who I am, to see the hope of recovery from BPD, from addiction, from a past that was murky? As hard as it is for me to do, I have made the decision I am going to allow people to know me and I have to be okay with the fact they very well can take off running. However, I have BPD, I can't make that fact go away, but what I can do is not waste the pain. I can share it so that others find hope, so that others don't fight alone, so that others can have a support system that I often rob myself of. I have gone through all I have gone through for a reason, and I feel that reason is to bring light into the darkness of BPD, it so misconstrued, people are so unaware of what it truly is.


To be completely honest my struggles these last couple of months have been from vulnerability, they have been from letting new people into my life, it has been from so many unknowns and major life changes. I have become angry with myself, I have thought how stupid I am for thinking I can have friends, for thinking I can be a part of a community, thinking you idiot look what you have done I have triggered myself. However, I am not stupid, I am not an idiot, it will be worth it, and I may have triggered myself but I kept on keeping on. I am like everyone else, I want friends, I deserve to have friends, I want to belong to a deeper community, I deserve to belong to a deeper community. Everyone does, even those with BPD. I am so hesitant to talk about having BPD, especially with people that haven't known me for long, with people that haven't watched me walk this path, and that is because of how "we" are portrayed in the media. My story isn't gruesome, it isn't ugly, it isn't scary. My story is a story of hope! For awhile now I felt I couldn't talk about BPD anymore, that it was old news that I had moved on. However, when looking at the emotional vulnerability I have put myself these last couple months for the sake of growth, healing, and change, I found some compassion for myself in there as well. The anxiety I whined to a friend about yesterday, wanting to take a pill for, I realized was there because I have been so vulnerable. I often feel like who am I to talk about my struggles, my recovery, with you all when every day I still have to keep on keeping on, I still have to fight the good fight. But, last night I realized, that is exactly who I am! I am real! I am honest! I am willing to share my difficulties while continuing to work on my own growth and healing. When I post this I am very aware of the fact that the people in my life new and those that have been around for awhile can very well pack up and go and that is their choice, one I will respect. However, I choose not to remain silent a moment longer. I choose to not tell my story in the past tense any longer. I choose to be a voice for those in throngs of BPD, I choose to be a voice for those that need a support system, I choose to be a voice for those without BPD that are a part of a support system for someone that is. I choose to be a voice for the public at large, it is not their fault they only know of BPD from the medias portrayal. I choose to be a voice to those that have never heard about BPD and are scratching their heads wondering what in the heck I am talking about.


Often for me sharing my feelings leaves me feeling empty and with even more self-doubt and anger than if I had just kept my mouth shut in the 1st place. However, I will always fight the good fight, I will always keep on keeping on, therefore if sharing my feelings bring forth anger, self-doubt, and emptiness but bring others an understanding, peace, hope, and most of all a support system that is strong and solid it is worth. To you I say keep on keeping on you are not alone!

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Whatever You Do Not Panic...Too late Panicked!

Is there something you are scared of? I don't mean a little scared, I mean the kind of fear that makes you want to head the other way so fast your feet don't even touch the ground. Snakes? Nah I can handle them, I don't like them but I can hold my own. Spiders? UGH! Where I live a fear of spiders kind of gets you no where. It's nothing that a can of insect killer and one of Roger's size 12 shoes can't handle. (Yes, by can I mean the entire can! I didn't say I let those suckers live!) Heights? Okay we are getting closer, it's not the going up that gets me it's the coming down. I try to avoid heights at all cost, however I still can muster up the courage to climb onto the roof when it's 110 degrees outside and the cooler needs a little TLC. Tight spaces? Now we are getting somewhere! And although this isn't that true irrational fear that I am asking you to think about this is the kind of fear that leads into mine, I hate tight spaces! I hate feeling trapped. When I was a kid my dad used to play this "game" where he would cover my nose and mouth with his hands, or a pillow, until I couldn't breath and would start to panic. Then of course he would laugh and think it was funny and would continue even longer. That kind of panic wasn't something I could control and yet it always left me feeling vulnerable and each time it happened I told myself do not panic, whatever you do don't panic, too late panicked! There is my true deep fear, can I run the other way not let me feet touch the ground while I am getting the hell out of dodge kind of fear, vulnerability. I feel like when I am vulnerable I am weak, exposed, and I am standing before you naked. (Ha you're welcome for keeping the actual physical clothes on! I am still battling the bulge of weight from trippin' to triathlons) Right now I find myself in the midst of that vulnerability and I feel like my mouth and nose are being covered and I keep telling myself do not panic, whatever you do not panic, too late panicked. It is in these moments of feeling like my face is being covered and I'm panicking and my vulnerability is exposed that I fear those that see these glimpses of vulnerability are going to just laugh, think it's funny and hold me under it even longer.


To most this will seem so silly, so lame, so why does it even matter, and I wish I could say to you, check this it doesn't matter, but it does. I had to send my coach an email last week and tell her I don't think I'm going to be ready to race my HIM in October. I told her I didn't want to cancel it just postpone it, transfer it to another race. This left me feeling like I wasn't enough of a triathlete, something that if you have read some of my blogs you know I struggle with every single day I train. Of course Coach Kitty was so kind, so understanding, so compassionate and she agreed with me. I didn't quit, although prior to sending her that email, I had written her the I QUIT message in my mind. But, I knew I didn't want to quit. My training has blown! It's my own fault, my plate is way too full, my kids are out of school, my husband is out of state, it's hotter than hell in Southern AZ in the summer, my laundry list of excuses are a mile long, but my training was not what it should be for someone that is 65 lbs overweight and training for a half ironman triathlon. It was in that moment that I had to send my coach an email, I had to be vulnerable, I had to trust that she wouldn't let that moment of vulnerability define who I was as a triathlete with her. I had to trust that my vulnerability was safe with her which was not something that is easy for me. My initial thought was, just stop working out, stop logging into Training Peaks, just stop. However, that's what I always do when I feel vulnerable, I panic, I stop, I ignore, and I run the other direction. I have come too far, I have established a trust too deep, and I want this too badly to take the irrational panic Ryan mode way out of things.


A little over a month ago I messed up and I messed up terribly. I tend to not have a filter and when I am worried, angry, or hurt I say some pretty harsh and cruel things often to people that I care about and love deeply. I did this with my sister while I was home this summer. I'll spare you the details, but to say I messed up is pretty much down playing the situation. My mom asked me when I was going to make it right, I told her I don't know, but I won't let her birthday go by without wishing her a happy birthday. Wyoming and Arizona are currently an hour apart and as the clock moved to 11:00 pm on July 12 and midnight on July 13 in Wyoming, I knew it was time, I knew I had to show my vulnerability. I didn't know what I was going to say, there's nothing to say. I knew that I was about to be completely vulnerable and at my sister's mercy. As I was typing a text to my sister telling her happy birthday, I loved her, I missed her, and I was sorry I kept telling myself, don't panic, whatever you do don't panic, too late panicked. I hit send on that text leaving myself vulnerable and knowing that my sister had every right to not even read the text I sent. I had to know that this is a time that putting my vulnerability out there my sister had all the reason in the world to see me panicking and to just let it happen. However, my sister not only read my text full of raw emotion and vulnerability, she replied a few moments later. She said I don't even know what to say, Ryan. It's okay seester you don't have to say anything Happy Birthday. As I put my phone away for the night I still felt myself trying to squirm out from the hands of vulnerability covering my face, expecting that I may very well never hear from her again. But, my sister showed me the ultimate compassion, grace, mercy, and forgiveness. She sent me pictures of her birthday party, she sent me pictures of her new puppy, we have texted a few times each day this week. I was terrified to send that text, I felt vulnerable, I wanted to stop, to ignore, to run the other direction, but my sister is the one that has always been there for me, I needed to expose some vulnerability and try and fix this.


What is that saying bad things happen in three? Well apparently that rings true for my vulnerability it had to happen in three! Seriously! AS IF! I think one was more than enough!! I have decided to do a complete religion upheaval in my life and very possibly convert to a religion that is one I absolutely never considered, one that I even made fun of, one that I never ever thought would be me! However, so much has happened within the course of these last 8 weeks that has caused me to really do an about face to study out, learn about, talk about, investigate, ask questions of, get pissed off at, fall in love with, want to embrace, want to kick to the curb...you get my point! Religion alone isn't truly a personal topic, it is one's beliefs that are personal to them. My entire life I have felt like I am not enough to have any kind of well rooted belief system, until these last few weeks when that has begun to change. However, as this transition has formulated I realized how rough around the edges I am. I have begun to see how much baggage I carry. I had to make a very hard decision. I had to decide if I was going to humble out, if I was going to allow my vulnerability to show, or if I was going to keep doing things the way I have always done things. I told myself do not panic, whatever you do not panic, too late panicked! I had to show my vulnerability to a group of people, in a church that I wanted to see me as enough. I wanted to come before these people, this church with my problems solved, with my junk cleaned out, with my rough edges polished, I wanted to come before these new friends in my life in perfect condition. I didn't want to come to them As Is, yet I chose to let my As Is condition show. I made the decision to let them see my cracked foundation, my damage caused by some pretty rough storms that passed through my life, I chose to show them the real me. I chose to trust that as they saw me panic under my exposed vulnerability they wouldn't stand by and laugh and keep me there even longer. Instead it was very much the opposite. It was a grace and compassion that I was not prepared for. It was a moment of let me help remove that pillow from your face, because I want to know what is behind it. It was a moment of show me more of your vulnerability, not so that it could be held over my head or against me, but rather, put it all out here because together we are going to work through it. It was a moment of I am not going to let you stop, ignore, or run. It was a moment of talk to me, tell me more, not because I want to know for personal gain but because you are enough and your vulnerability is safe.


Even after my trifecta this week I absolutely am still afraid of vulnerability, I still feel like I am being trapped and smothered by it, I still expect people to stand by and laugh at my panic through vulnerability and to hold me there even longer. But, at the same time that terror has slowly began to lose its grip. I have choices in my life, I can let that one thing that terrifies me, vulnerability, keep me from being the best me that I can be or I can embrace the fact that it's only temporary and the benefits for myself and my family are well worth facing it. I don't expect that in a month from now the raw open wounds from vulnerability will still be as raw and as open, but I expect they will still be there. Here's a little analogy: No matter how many times I see a spider they always cause me to jump back in fear and maybe let out a little girl scream, but I know the situation must be dealt with. I find my big girl panties, a can of bug spray and Roger's size 12 shoe and I deal with what is before me. I hope like anything that while I'm gathering my problem solving supplies the spider doesn't run and hide causing me to go on a hunt before I can properly handle it. This is no different than my vulnerability. There are going to be times it jumps out of nowhere and causes me to let out a little girl scream and there are going to be times I watch it creeping across the floor while I set up my plan of attack. Regardless of the method in which my vulnerability appears, I feel now that it is at least safe to be vulnerable. I feel that it is so much easier to handle vulnerability up front rather than letting it run off into a corner where it can make a nasty web and multiply with nasty little babies causing the situation to be much bigger than when the spider was in the open where I could handle it properly. So many times over the course of this last week I have felt like I was not enough, I felt panicked, I felt vulnerable, and I felt like the only solution was to stop, ignore it, run! However, this time was different, I allowed myself some vulnerability, I allowed myself to trust those around me that they wouldn't laugh at my panic that comes from this vulnerability. I am determined to change! I am determined to grow! I am determined to be the best me I can be! It's going to take a lot of bug spray, big panties, and size 12 shoes, but one day I will look back on these moments and I will hopefully say it was worth it!

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Full Count Bases Loaded

I have not ever really been a social person, but in my years of trippin' I became even less social. I felt everyone knew my dirty little secret, everyone that looked at me knew, "Oh there's the drug addict" I judged myself harsher than anyone on the outside could possibly ever judge me. As a result I withdrew into my own personal shell of self judgment and unworthiness. When someone tells you trippin' takes a lot out of them, they aren't exaggerating. Tripping reaches all crevices of your being, places you didn't even know could be impacted. You feel like all eyes are on you. As a mom of 6 kiddos that was a tough reality to swallow! I never wanted people to judge me, but more than that I absolutely never wanted anyone to judge my kids based on the fact that I was trippin'. I carried the shame and the embarrassment I did not want my babies to feel an ounce of it. However, when I decided, this past December, that I was going to start on this quest of triathlons, that I was no longer "that person." When I found solace in my sobriety when I began to hold firm to the fact that my character spoke volumes for who I was, the less I judged myself, the more I felt worthy to have others in my bubble. Oh, don't get me wrong! This did not mean in any sense of the word that I was your outgoing extrovert that was going to strike up vast amounts of conversations or be the center at any social gathering, but hey at least I was considering going to those social gatherings and the fear of making eye contact and saying howdy to someone had dissipated. You can't give your all to triathlons and be afraid of people! Little did I know just how quickly my willingness to speak to others would change my life in such drastic ways.


Baseball has become a spring staple in our house. January we sign the kids up for baseball, followed by tryouts, practices, and games that all ensue until June. I love it, my kids love it, rarely is there a game that all 8 of us don't attend! We are often at a game or practice 6 days a week and many of those days for several hours, but it is just a hobby, something fun. However, this year it has become more than just a hobby, this year, baseball changed my life, and forever the course of my family. Garrett is a decent ball player he loves to learn he loves to be challenged and coached. He had his heart set on moving up to the next level of ball this year. He was confident, he knew he could do it, I knew he could it, and I cheered him on each step of the way. However, days before tryouts the plague struck our house, okay so not really the plague but that crazy strand of flu that was going around, and my kids were all sidelined. Garrett was on his way to feeling better and insisted he attend tryouts. He blew it. Pitches he could have easily sailed into the outfield turned to strikes, grounders that he had to put little effort into stopping skirted by him, and pop flies that he could have easily sunk bounced off the ground all around him. As he we walked to the car, he said, "Mom, I will be AA again this year. I hope I'm not but I will be, I did terrible." I am a most competitive person in all facets of my life, especially when it comes to ball. I grew up playing I know how to play. I put my arm around him and said we will see what happens. I hurt for my boy, I know how badly he desired to move up, but in that I was also dealing with my own pride. I wanted my boy up a notch I wanted him to learn and grow and play to his potential. Little did I know the level to which my pride and humility would come into play, through baseball, and that something like little league baseball would change my life!


Days after the tryouts I opened my email and read an email from an eager and excited coach welcoming all the players to a new AA season. My heart sank a bit, I didn't want to tell Garrett that he wasn't moving up. That afternoon he told me that his classmates had found out they were playing majors, kids he had played with last year were now AAA and I was going to have to break the news to him. I was dealing with a blow to my own ego, dang it I wanted my boy to play up. I called Garrett into the living room after all my other kids had gone to bed and told I am received an email from his new coach and that he was in fact playing AA. In that moment I watched my son possess such grace and dignity that I was humbled, little did I know this was only the beginning of my journey towards humility. He said it's okay mom I like to play baseball. I will learn a lot this year and next year I will do my best at tryouts. When did my little boy become a young man?


I am a very observant person there isn't much that gets by me and when it does it's usually because I just decide to let it slide. I am an instant judge of people and I am 99.9% of the time correct about them. I tend to just hang back and observe to not really interact, kind of just get in and get out as quickly as possible. This has always been my way, however in the years I spent trippin' it became even more so. Pick up on the cues, watch for people, watch your surroundings, I honed in on some already solid skills. Although I hadn't decided I wouldn't talk to the parents, I wouldn't interact with the team, I wouldn't get to know others, I hadn't decided that I would either. A new set of baseball parents is always a crazy interesting dynamic. I dare you to go sit through a game at your local little league field and report back to me, I bet you can spot it all!! The 1st practice I took it all in. Sized up the parents the coaches the players and was just hanging out in that hour of silence as my husband was home and I didn't have to haul the whole gaggle with me. However, that soon changed! A mom reached out to me for my phone as her guy struggled to go on the field and she wanted to call her husband. While she was on the phone my little boy, that is now a young man recognized the kid struggling from school and ran over to him, struck up conversation and coaxed him onto the field to throw a few balls around. The mom handed me back my phone and then we began to talk. Wait what? I was talking to another parent, but more than that a parent of child at my kids' school! Who was I? What had happened to my antisocial ways? The more we talked, I realized her youngest son and my kindergartner were buddies, this is one of the kids Kyle was always talking about (and in a good way I might add)


Slowly as the season progressed I spoke to more and more of the parents, I sat with them, laughed with them, cheered with them and got to know a little about each one. I quickly realized how many of them had kids that were in my kids' classes how many of them knew each other, but what I noticed the most was how kind they were. A genuine real kind with each  other, with their kids, and with me. I listened to how they spoke to their spouses, I watched how they handled situations with their children, I heard them discuss their day and interactions with others. I heard them encourage children that weren't their own, I watched them handle the heartaches of their players as they didn't make "the play" I watched them celebrate when they did make "the play." I observed how they handled stress of little ones running around, of hot weather, of cold weather, of junky calls from umps, or from less than stellar opposing coaches. There was something about this team, something that was drawing me in, yet I had no idea why and furthermore I had no idea they all knew each other outside of the realm of Rubber Ducks AA baseball. However, along with this set of parents I also observed the coaches. Yep, totally not going to lie I was in protective mode sometimes. Coach Dallin was hard on my boy. After one especially "hard on my boy" practice I said, "Garrett do you think Coach is hard on you?" He said of course he is mom. I looked at him and he laughed and said, "Another kid on my team does something and he is like great job high fives I do the same thing and Coach tells me what I did wrong" I started to reply but my not so little boy but my young man says, "He does it mom because he knows I can do it. I want to learn mom and this is the best coach I have ever had" Another smack on the pride and the humility belt was tightened even more. Exactly what Garrett had wanted this season, a coach to teach him. It was in that moment that I stopped listening to him coach my son but I started watching him coach a team and my heart was moved by this guy that showed an amazing amount of love for his own son on the team, but a coach that cared deeply about each of his players, even at the expense of pissing off the opposing team's coach.


It was in such a moment, that Garrett's coach from last year, was all fired up, Coach Dallin was all fired up, that I made the comment on the bleachers about how Garrett almost quit last year and how much he appreciated Coach Dallin. The sentence that followed, forever changed my life, forever changed the life of my family. The team mom said, "He is so quiet at church but he gets fired up at baseball" I watched this fired up at baseball coach and I watched him stand his ground for what he believed to be right and true for his players, his boys! You could absolutely see the anger in his eyes, and the frustration in his words but Coach Dallin held true to what he believed was right for his team. It was in that moment that I began to not only appreciate but respect this coach that was placed into my son's life! The coach that gave up chapstick because Garrett didn't have any and was miserable on the field, the coach that listened to what this players said and the coach that believed in them even when they had doubts in themselves, ie my boy and pitching! There was a coach on the filed formulating my son's life in huge ways while there was a group of parents on the bleachers formulating my life in ways I had yet to understand. A group of coaches on the field and families off the field that were about to change our family forever.


The season came to a disappointing end, as a result of, yep a rookie mistake by my son. He was on 3rd base, ran on a pop fly, it was caught and the 3rd baseman was quick enough to tag the bag, double play, last inning of the game, and my son was the last out. Garrett couldn't hold back the tears, he has a heart like that! So big, so loving, so sensitive and a heart that he gives completely to whatever he is doing. I look over and I see the disappointment in his coach's face, but what I also see his him with an arm around my son, in that moment where my boy blew it, his coach was letting him know, hey it's ok! In that moment the respect I already had established for him grew 10 fold. The season was over, life was crazy, summer was beginning, and next year there would be a new team, and a whole new set of parents for me to get to know. I had very much enjoyed the season I was so thankful that I had let my guard down and had gotten to know these families and I was equally grateful that so many of our kids would be in school together at the end of the summer. I was finished, that is where it was.


However, in the 2 years since my sobriety God and I have been on again off again and to be frank we were very off again. I was done! I didn't even know that I believed in God, I had gotten sober on my own, I had overcome the likes of BPD on my own, I had kept my family together on my own, I had built this crazy farm life on my own, I was doing triathlons on my own. There was no God, I was done! However, something kept nagging me, the team mom's statement, "He is so quiet at church but he gets fired up at baseball." I kept thinking talk to Stacy, ask Stacy about her faith. Yeah NO (that was all in my previous blog if ya' want to read it again) but I did! I followed a prompting to reach out to this person I didn't even know one of the moms from baseball and ask her such a deep such a real and personal question about her faith. It was in doing so baseball began to even more change my life, to even more change the course of my family.


We spoke A LOT! Okay I am absolutely not exaggerating when I say A LOT! I don't even want to begin to tell you how much we talked about God about faith about church. I humbled out, I went! Tattoos, piercings, and all I went. When I walked in that 1st Sunday and I saw those families that welcomed me at baseball, those families that I had spent time observing and watching holding the same values on Sunday as they did everyday at the ball field I knew there was something legit here. Along with the baseball families there were families that I had known for nearly 9 years, families that my kids have grown up with at school. Some I knew better than others some I knew in passing yet each one of these families I had also observed because there was something about them something about the way they handled life that I found so admirable so assuring so peaceful. In that moment, 2 Sundays ago it all came together. I knew what they all had in common. However, I fought the fight for the next 2 weeks. I wanted this, I didn't want it. I believed it, I didn't believe it. It was going too fast, I didn't have a testimony, what if all the people in my life were right what if this church was the wrong church. I was embarrassed to tell the multitudes again this last Sunday why Garrett wasn't there, he was with his Dad, until Coach Dallin says to me, I get it, my parents were separated when I was a kid too. There it was Sunday afternoon and I was sitting in sacrament, Stacy on one side, my kids on the other, baseball and school families scattered through out and I tossed out my fleece to God. I told him okay God, this is it. If I walk out of here as torn as I walked in I am done. You have to make this very clear. Little did I know He had answered my prayer before I even knew to pray it.


The 2nd speaker walked up to the podium and said he was supposed to have spoken a few weeks ago, but was bumped and he had his talk planned for many weeks, however Saturday morning at 4:45 he was prompted by the spirit to change his talk, he didn't know why but he had yielded to the spirit and was going to present a talk that he hoped someone would get something out of. I don't know who this speaker was, he doesn't attend that ward, but I can tell you why he changed his talk, I can tell you why the spirit prompted him. Our Heavenly Father knew the confusion of my heart, our Heavenly Father knew that my bases were loaded, the count was full and I was either going to strike out and walk away for good or I was going to embrace that last pitch and swing with all my might. As this Brother began speaking the 1st couple of sentences, I leaned over to Stacy trying to hide the tears in my eyes and simply said, "OH MY GOSH!" The entire message was for me. The entire message spoke on just starting out with a desire to believe. His message was written for me. His message was written as if he and I were the ones exchanging thousands of messages over the three weeks prior. I tried so hard to hide my tears that entire talk. The spirit spoke to this Brother and he listened, our Heavenly Father took my fleece and answered the prayers of my heart. I so badly wish I could remember all that was said in this talk to share it with you. I couldn't even remember it that evening to share it with my husband. I think I was in shock, in awe! This stranger followed the spirit to save my spirit!


As I got into my car I sent Stacy a message and just said I need to talk to you. Friday, I sent her a similar message and was going to tell her I quit. I couldn't do this, I didn't have a testimony, I would never have a testimony! I was feeling sorry for myself I was feeling judged by myself and there was no way that I could be ready for baptism on July 18th! I was DONE! However, this message was much different! There was no more doubt there was no more hesitation or questioning, there was peace and honestly kind of a fear because it couldn't have been anymore clear. Never in my entire life did I believe that God so boldly answered prayers, never in my life did I picture that I mattered enough to Him that my doubt and pride would be handled in such an amazing way. Sunday while I sat in a church full of people, with those families from baseball, with the coaches, parents, and players, did I realize the great ways in which baseball forever changed my life and changed the life of my family.


Those four families, they lived life on the field/off the field, in the church/out of the church in ways that impacted this tough, tattooed, pierced, prideful, did not need God (so I thought) lady. I saw the struggles with little ones, I saw the tired in their eyes, yet I saw love, peace, respect, and something I did not understand until Sunday, when I sat in a room with them and our Heavenly Father showed me who He is. My bases were loaded, the count was full, and I was prepared to drop my bat, walk back to the dugout, and go on with my life. However, our Heavenly Father threw me a pitch that I connected with and my game is still on. I share all this with you tonight, because not only have I gone from a trippin' cocaine addict to training for IMTX but my spiritual life has also gone from trippin' to something much more rewarding. No, all my blogs won't be about God and church, so don't run off scared! However, there is no denying what the spirit has done for me and for that of my family. I am not going to be your stereotypical Mormon, I am rough around the edges. I don't plan to take my piercings out, I won't cover up my tattoos, and I have no intention of changing wards, but what I do plan to do is continue to show you the amazing and miraculous journey that my life has been on. That I survived all those years trippin', that I am now a triathlete about to do an ironman. My life is a true testimony to our Heavenly Father and how He guides and protects us even when we deny Him. I may not have the words for a testimony but just like those four families that impacted me through their daily interactions in some small way I hope I can impact you on my journey!