Laughter Is Medicine Humor Is Key

This weekend has been a bit of a farming challenge, we are having an excessive heat warning which means I have lost some of my best rabbits in spite of some serious measures put in place. I made the executive farmer decision the remaining rabbits would spend the weekend in their travel cages in my sons' bedroom. However, they were unappreciative of this life saving gesture and during their transfer used their razor blade like nails, on my arm, making me look like I'm in serious emotional distress, once again, and have taken up cutting. My hippy, animal loving, 9 year old felt sorry for the rabbits in small cages (as their normal outdoor cages are rather large) and put a rabbit on my couch to play with and it peed ALL OVER!  Our chickens are on egg strike because of the weather yet they have no problem flying the coop (no pun intended) to still go into my garden to feast. The real kicker is we had our 1st and hopefully last major hay fire, the damage was minimal but it was a scary smoky mess for awhile. OH and let's not forget that the massive amounts of rain a couple of days before this heat has sent my goats into a bit of intestinal distress. They can now proudly boast, to their stall mates at the next goat show, that they shoot their liquid poop about 6 feet across the pen hitting everything and everyone in its path, including their herd queen, the hand that feeds them TWICE A DAY! As a result of this liquid messiness I decided it was time to deworm them all. My dodge ball skills were not in vain yesterday as I dodged liquid goat spray while administering oral dewormer. However, as if my farming adventures weren't enough, a goat jerked as I was plunging the medicine into her mouth planting 10cc of Ivomec square into my eye! For the love of all things medicinal that junk BURNS!  I love my farm, I love my job, but sometimes it isn't for the faint of heart.


There are many choices we have in life, but I always try to laugh. I have always said if I lose my sense of humor, my ability to laugh, then I am done. In the darkest moments I knew if I could find something, one thing to find humor in, if I could laugh, even at my own lame sense of humor I was going to be okay. All I can do sometimes is tip my hat to the powers that be and have a good ol' belly laugh and move on. It appears that I have forgotten to laugh lately, I have taken my ventures into the conversion of Mormonism too seriously. I have taken my triathlon training too seriously (errr more like I have taken it too seriously that I am not taking it seriously enough). I have taken the busyness that is my life too seriously and I haven't stopped to just tip my hat and laugh at all that surrounds me. However, this weekend the reality that I am taking life way too seriously is weighing heavily on me and I need to stop trying to be something I'm not. I need to not be afraid to let others get to know me, the real me, the me that laughs her way through the crap (again no pun intended) in life. I have decided it is time to be me, not be something I am not. I give my all to everything and my all includes finding the humor in life. My all includes not apologizing for who I am and my all includes not taking life so serious! I need to let my hair down, so to speak, and be myself around those that are in my life. It is not my job to make people like me, but it is my job to allow them to get to know the real me, crazy lame humor and all. As I have opened my circle the last few months, I worried what will people think about me, rather than being okay with me.


Last night I opened my email and had a request from a new blog to publish a blog I wrote a couple of years ago. I agreed to let it be republished, however I wanted to edit it, so here is a revisited blog, edited, and written with a little bit more humor. Today, find something to laugh about. Find something within yourself, within your environment, within a book, tv, music, wherever, dare I say even at church (but probably not during sacrament I don't want to be held accountable for you laughing during sacrament!) Take a moment today to allow yourself a deep belly laugh. Humor can be found anywhere, regardless of your past, your labels, your addictions, your family life, your religion (I often think I will get in trouble from inappropriate laughter during church and one day I may but that's okay too see above do NOT laugh during sacrament!), your job situation, your triathlon training...you get my point...laughter truly is the best medicine. I am certain my goats were laughing at me last night and the misery they put my through, telling me take your own advice herd queen laughter is the best medicine!


I have every reason not to laugh, not to find humor in life. I am a bit of a savant when it comes to dates and today four years ago, I found myself being locked up, petitioned in, for many weeks. I could feel sorry for myself today, but I choose not to. I could sit here and think about my less than stellar childhood, the crappy choices I have made as adult, yet instead I choose to sit here and remember the days I laughed until I cried. I choose to look at my beautiful family and I choose to remember who I am. Today as you laugh, as you find humor in anything, I want you to remember who you are! You are more than a mental health label, you are more than an addiction, you are more than a struggle, a bad day, you are more than a spilled cup of coffee, and you are more than falling up the stairs. Today I choose to remember who I am, pooped on farmer and all!


I am a 38 year old stay at home mom of six incredible kids. I am the mom that waits with you at parent pick discussing the everyday happenings. I am the mom that volunteers at school functions, okay not many because I don't do the school scene very well. I am the mom that helps with her kids homework, school projects (science fair is a different story), and attends all of their events. I am the mom that you complimented today while in the store about how well behaved her children are, however you apparently missed the tantrum, moments before, from a four year old yelling, "I hate you all my life you aren't my mom I'm never huggling you again even at night even when I die you are an asshat!" I am the mom that sat across from you at parent teacher conferences and you told her how well adjusted, advanced, and fun her child is in your classroom, even when my son wrote on his beginning of the year paper that one of his favorite things to do is fart in class. I am the mom that sits next to you in the bleachers at baseball, in the gym for volleyball, I am the mom that is at cubscout meetings and is at every animal show, choir concert, and church function you can imagine. I am a wife that loves her husband unconditionally even when all I can do is look at him laugh and think FOOL you just lit my goat pen on fire! Although in his defense he was trying to help me clean out the pen (and he wants it known that only like 1/30 of my pen burned) Being that mom, that wife, wouldn't be possible without a bit of humor, because what can you do, laugh? cry? get mad?


I am a 38 year old educated woman. I totally did a mental high five last week at church when they were talking in relief society about the new education "commandment" DUDE this might be the only commandment I will master! I am the student that sat in your classroom earning two master's degrees before I was 28. I am the peer that helped you pass your classes in addition to doing my own work load. I am the teacher that taught your son/daughter in countless grades and multiple subjects. I am the softball coach that led your child's team to state finals. I am the teacher that you emailed or called anytime your child needed me regardless of it being school related or not. I am the administrator that advocated for your child and you as a parent working to come to a common ground. I am the administrator that came to your house to talk to your son/daughter because I truly cared about what was going on in their lives. I am the teacher that came home from personal vacations early to attend funerals, write letters of recommendations, to go with you to court, to sit in the waiting room with your while child was in surgery, and attend both yours and your son/daughter's college graduations. I am the special education advocate that did not view your child as a disability and fought countless hours for you and your child to have more than just a fair and appropriate education.


I am a 38 year old well rounded woman. I am the woman that stood next to you at the start of a 5k, 10k, half marathon, or triathlon. I am the woman that shouted cheers of encouragement as we passed each other or crossed the finish line together. I am the woman that you got in touch with to ask questions about gardening, animals, cooking, fitness, or nutrition. I am the woman that you asked to write a children's curriculum and devotional. I am the woman you sat next to at church, yes the one that has tattoos and piercings, could you see past that? I am the woman you asked to minister to others in need. I am the woman that you see at the gym, the library, the grocery store, the bank. I am the woman that you make small talk with just because I am there. I am the woman that stood in front of you and hundreds of others interpreting for the hearing impaired, because no else could do it. I am the woman that you shared that inside joke with because I have that ability to laugh!

I am a 38 year old woman that cares deeply about people. I am the woman that decided to be real, honest, and open about motherhood, being a wife, drug addiction, and having borderline personality disorder. I am the woman that opens not only my home and farm, but my heart and life to people I care about. I am the woman that you contact, even though I am a complete stranger, because you need to talk to someone that has been there and understands. I am the woman that you send messages to on facebook, to my phone, and via email because you just need to talk and don't know who else to turn to. I am the woman you call because you have a friend that is struggling and you don't know how to help. I am the woman that puts aside my own pride and fear to ease the pain and struggles of someone else. I am the woman that believes firmly everything has a purpose and a reason and I do my best to help you with your purpose and reason. I am the woman that believes that everything happens for a reason and to never waste the pain of my childhood or my adult life. I am the woman you turn to because you just need a good laugh and I am the woman that will never lose my ability to laugh.

I am a 38 year old woman that once was a cocaine, pill, and heroin addict. I am a woman that has been hospitalized as a result of drug overdoses, suicidal tendencies, raging, and self harm. I am a woman that often had inappropriate anger, wide mood swings, and feels things so intensely even I don't understand why. I am a 38 year old woman that has dug deep within myself to identify my triggers and to fight and push through them. I am a 38 year old woman that knows the importance of finding something to laugh about each day even in the darkest and crappiest (no pun intended) situations.


Hi I am Ryan a 38 year old woman that is so much more than a label. If I hadn't been open with you over the last five years you would not have ever known I had a label or was a drug addict. I am the face of labels and addiction. However, I am so much more, you are so much more! I no longer am tripping, but the struggle is real. It will always be real! I am real! Do not hide behind a fake smile some of this junk in life HURTS and SUCKS and to be honest is not on any level FAIR. However, find a reason in each day to smile! Remember who you are! You are different than me, this is who I am, but there is always a reason to laugh! Tip your hat today belly laugh, it's worth it I promise! Be you, laugh, (NOT during sacrament I will NOT be held accountable)

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!

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!

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!

The Trifecta Signed Sealed and Delivered

There is no trippin to triathlon theme tonight...when I was asked to guest blog this weekend I didn't really expect the up and down emotional week I have had  AND since I didn't give a theme I have just decided you are going to get the ramblings of my heart and my mind because my heart hurts and my mind is confused. I have figured out so much of my life on my own and I've done a pretty decent job of it. Yes, I am fully aware I write blogs about going from trippin' to triathlons which means I spent 3 years of my life as an addict, but even with that I have done a decent job of my life.


I believe that life is multi faceted that there is a spiritual, emotional, and physical component. Everything in our lives fits into these three components and each component is about free will and choices. After I stopped trippin' I put on nearly 100 lbs I replaced my drug habit with soda and junk food and wasn't working out. I was physically miserable which also made me emotionally blah. I made the choice to hire a coach to help me train for triathlons as well as get the nutrition component under control. I was and continue to be humbled out by her. Not once has she ever judged me or made me feel "less than" but letting someone into your world of working out and eating is a very personal thing, especially when it was a replacement for a very deep emotional cover up, drugs. Yet, I knew how badly I wanted this how desperately I want these last 50 lbs to come off, how I want to not just do triathlons but I want to be decent at them. I trust my coach completely, with not just the work outs and the nutrition but I know that all three facets of life work together therefore I made the choice to let her into my life and to share with her the emotional junk that has brought me to this place physically. I chose to share with her the lifelong battle with food, the drugs, and I chose to let her get to know me, how I operate as an athlete, as a wife, as a mom, and as a person. I made the choice to let Coach Kitty into my world, because I wanted the physical component of my life to be all that it could possibly be. I struggled with letting my guard down, because even though she lives thousands of miles away, she still knew me. She still knew when I ate junk or when I didn't bust ass in a work out, and I am so thankful for my sometimes way too honest personality, because in getting my physical together not only did I learn to trust more, I gained a coach and a friend with whom I admire and respect.


My physical journey has not been easy it is often embarrassing and makes me angry. I catch a glimpse of myself in pictures and can see the every bit of the 50lbs. I want to wear shorts that just 3 summers ago fit but now I'm lucky to get them up to my knees. I want to not have a stomach that can not be hidden no matter what shirts I wear, and I don't want to have to cringe at the thought of that tri suit waiting in my closet. I had a bit more physical confidence before our vacation this summer when my niece took a video of me jumping off the high dive and I saw just how huge I was in my swimming suit. Couple that with the comments I blogged about last week from my dad and I can safely say my physical confidence meter has been lowered. HOWEVER, even though my confidence has wained and I want to be 50lbs thinner like yesterday and I want to not be a back of the pack racer in the my triathlons I have a plan! I, without a shadow of doubt, know that I have done the right thing, I know what the answer is, and I trust the physical facet of my life to my coach. This week as I sucked through training I thought why am I doing this?!? I just want to quit! I don't want to work at this! I licked my wounds of self pity and regret and frustration I also was reminded that I have been given all the tools I need to be successful and that if I follow these tools my end goals will be achieved. My coach can't do the work for me, I have to eat the right things, or eat period, she can't do the workouts for me, but since when is 2200 a short swim??, it is about me and the work and the effort, but the plan is clear, the tools are solid, and the goal is tangible. I have got the physical facet of my life signed, sealed, and delivered!


The emotional facet of my life is in check! Well sort of, well most of the time anyway. I have slowly over the course of the last 5 years began letting my walls down, allowing myself to feel emotion and for that feeling of emotion to be safe. I'm not even sure I can describe this in a manner that makes sense. I am a very black and white thinker and with that a very all or none person and my emotions were not the exception. I often would feel something to the extreme, often anger, or I would feel nothing at all. It was to the point I could look at the faces of my sweet babies and feel nothing. I would ask people in my life do you ever look at your kids and feel nothing? You would think I had asked them if they were growing horns or to tell me about their sex life or something equally as odd. They all said no they always felt something, to which I then looked at them the way they had just looked at me. It was then that I realized I had allowed myself to shut down so much that I didn't feel. even when it came to my babies. This when I knew I had to make a choice! I could continue on this path of emotional self destruction or I could find some super extra large big girl panties and I could learn how to feel! It was not easy, it still is not easy, there are still days, especially this week, where I think why did I make this choice to feel emotions, being flat line and not caring was so much easier. Absolutely it was easier, it is easier, but I missed so much and I choose to not miss out like that again.


On Tuesday, a friend and I took our kids to see Inside Out. I didn't think it was as great as everyone was making it out to be, but that's to be expected, from me, it is about emotions. However, one part of the movie that has stuck with me for the last several days is that joy and sadness must work together. A life can not be full of joy without some sadness and even in the saddest components of life there is always a piece of joy. I have thought about this all week long, and I have looked back on my life and I am thankful for the sadness, for the disgust, for the fear, because without them I would not be able to know joy fully. I made the choice to stop relying on alternative means of temporary emotion bumps through the cocaine and pills and heroin. I would feel nothing so I would do cocaine, I would do too much cocaine and would be feeling too much but nothing a handful of pills or a hit of heroin couldn't resolve. However, more than the mood and emotion altering substances I partook in on a daily basis I made the choice to work on what was truly causing the emotional dysfunction in my life. Coming from a person that doesn't like to feel emotion, to have to dig deep, to have to pull out that emotional sludge that looks and sounds and smells and tastes awful and to figure out what is making it that way, it down right sucked! There were those moments, those days where I wanted to quit, and sometimes I did, but I knew I made the choice to do this and I didn't want to turn back. I relied on friends to carry me when I couldn't carry myself, I relied on the fact that I knew if I kept doing these things then I would have a successful and solid end result. I knew if I did xyz then in the end I would be okay. I flushed the drugs, burned the drug using supplies, and walked out of my bathroom never to use again. I knew what the end result of that emotional choice would be. I met with a psychiatrist I poured my heart out to her and I knew what the end result would be. Just like with the physical no one could do the emotional work for me. My friends could hug me tight (when I let them), they could cry with me, laugh with me, walk with me, and even yell at me, but they couldn't get sober for me and they couldn't work through the emotional sludge for me, I had to do it. My psychiatrist could listen to me, could tell me what I should do, could challenge and encourage me, could call me out on my bullshit, and could show me what needed to be done, but she could not do it for me, when I left her office the choice was mine. But, I knew the truth I knew what was right, I knew if I did these things my emotional facet would be in check! I have the emotional facet of my life signed sealed and delivered!


Alas that brings me to my spiritual trifecta. What a shit storm this has been! Let me just say I'm going to be brutally honest here, and probably offend someone, but hey even when I'm not writing on matters as personal as spirituality I always manage to offend someone in my blogging, people are just easily offended I suspect. This isn't even about a church or religion but about what spirituality means to an individual. Even for a person that is an atheist I still believe that they have three facets of life and they make the choice to not believe in the spiritual component and that is okay, that is their choice. For many years I have doubted and questioned spiritual matters. I have wondered is there a God, I have wondered if there is a God how can everything in the Bible be true, I have wondered how there can be so many religions, so many denominations, so many belief systems each one claiming to be true. This area of my life stresses me out! I want to do the right thing for myself and for my family, and I think I have found what works for us. However, after I write all this, and it is published I might be tossed into the provberial spiritual river and sent floating without a paddle. My entire life I have heard how wrong certain religions are. Wrong based on what because they believe differently than the one pointing out the "flaws" in the other religions belief system? As I started to type about spirituality I wanted to point out what I don't like in churches and then it occurred to me it isn't about the churches, someone else's spiritual journey should not impede mine. It should not matter to me if someone wants to be a Sunday morning church quarter back, or if someone wants to devote 2 years of their life to the mission field, or if someone wants to pray 5 times a day facing Mecca a persons spiritual journey is their own. My stress this week comes from just this, not so much the spiritual facet but from the fact that I don't know what to do with what I believe. That moment when I think I have it figured out, when I think I know exactly what I want to do, some well meaning friends stage an intervention of sorts and try to save me from the dark side (said tongue and cheek of course). Last week I mentioned that I was going to attend a church, a not so main stream church, but one that is well known at the same time. I was hesitant to even cross that threshold and mention to my family and friends on the ever so delightful likes of social media where I was going to attend, but I did. I knew that I was going to get some resistance, that is to be expected, but I never would have imagined that a week later I have been made to feel like an incompetent, worthless, ignorant, human being because I decided to try this church.


My stressful spiritual week looked like this: 1) I no longer doubt there is a God so now that I have established that I can move on 2) I think I have found a church that is exactly what I want for me and my family with a group of people that I instantly feel comfortable with and like I belong 3) each piece of the church service spoke to exactly what I had been talking to my friend about and I walked out of their feeling like I belong like I connected with these people and that it was the right place 4) Roger and I talked religion, spirituality, God something we never had done before and I was like woohoo virtual high five this is absolutely the right thing to do and we both felt connected with this church our kids had friends there we felt welcomed and we liked the messages 5) the fan mail began if people weren't texting me telling me that I am too smart to believe in this, they were messaging me on facebook telling me that I knew better than to do this, or they were finding some of my closest friends and telling them they needed to talk to me staging their own little spiritual interventions 6) I realized what a big deal to me the boundaries for this church that I really enjoyed are. They attend based on where you live and I don't live in the right place to attend this church that I want to, yes I could attend the one I am supposed to because they teach the same thing but that struck something in me that I still haven't been able to shake off I cried so much that day I gave myself a headache and I think 3 days later my eyes are still swollen, I know many think what's the big deal you don't go for the people you go for the message but for me it is a very big deal for so many reasons but I shall save that for another blog 7) I meet with people from the church today and they shared a video with me to watch and as I watched it I kept thinking OH MY GOSH that's exactly how I feel right now and I felt like okay this is the right thing I'm on the right track 8) I was asked whether or not I wanted to be baptized and join the church in just 3 short weeks.


There are things in this church I am not sure I believe, yet there are things in main stream Christianity I am not sure I believe either. However, what I do believe is that as humans we were given free will, we are given the choice to make decisions about how we live on Earth which includes how we choose to carry out our spiritual life. I wish that it was as clear cut as the physical facet where I knew when I listen to Coach Kitty and I eat the way I'm supposed, train the way I'm supposed to, sleep like I am supposed to I will not only make it through the race I will cross the finish line and get a shiny medal. I wish I knew that it was like the emotional component where I flushed the cocaine down the toilet and left my bathroom and never picked up my phone to call my dealer again, or I sat across from my psychiatrist and I pulled up that sludge and we cleaned it off and put it away and everything was great. However, that isn't true for the spiritual. I don't know what waits for me when I die and more than that I don't know what is the right way to get there. I don't know if I am supposed to believe what your religion teachers or yours or yours or yours or hey even yours. (Yes I'm talking to you) I don't know if I am going to totally mess everything up by attending one church vs another or that I even need to attend at all. I had a very wise friend say to me this week, "Ryan does it matter which way the pearly gates swing open, does it matter if they go left or right" Well no truly that doesn't matter, I guess it just matters is that they open at all, because I'm sure scaling the pearly gate is no easy task. My spirit has been so uneasy this week, it has hurt


When I die only then can I say (well you know what I mean) that the spiritual component is signed sealed and delivered. However, in the meantime I can strive to align my family with a group of individuals that have a spiritual belief system similar to mine. I can strive to raise my children with spiritual beliefs that I feel will sustain them not only now but as they enter into their teen and adult years. This is not a task I take lightly, you know when I cry over something it's serious business, but what I never expected was the added stress that people bring to spirituality. I was so excited, elated in fact, when I finally felt this spiritual peace that I had searched for all my life. When I finally knew what this spiritual hunger was about, when I finally felt that down deep I had found the spiritual answers I had longed for. I did not expect others to feel that level of excitement with me and for me but what I did not expect was for them to try and kill the joy and peace of the spiritual journey I have been on for years.


Tonight I want to encourage you to look at your trifecta. Are their choices that you can be better making to help sign, seal, and deliver each component so they are harmoniously working together? However, I also want to challenge you to be cognizant of the trifecta of those around you. Their journeys might, and probably will, look different than yours, walk along side them, don't cast judgment, help carry their load, you never know what one little statement, in passing can do for them. One statement, on some hard bleachers, in the middle of a coach showdown, at a little league baseball field brought to me the spiritual peace and joy I have sought for 38 years, be that kind of person, not one that muddles the beauty of the trifecta of life.

Sorry Not Sorry Oh Wait I Am Really Sorry!

In October I shut down my other personal blog, the one that discussed the ups and downs of traversing a mental health issue. I knew that I was going to be focusing the majority of my blogs on going from trippin' to triathlons. I knew a whole new group of people were going to be reading them, some of these people I wasn't too excited to learn about the fact that not only was I a recovering addict but that I had also traveled a rather dark mental health journey in the not so distant past including hospitalizations and court orders. I was determined that I was not going to blog about mental health ever again, unless it was a sentence or two in a light hearted and fun way while discussing trippin' and triathlons. However, yesterday as I loaded up the suburban, with my six kiddos, I heard on the tv what had happened in SC and I felt that pit in my stomach churn. My heart not only broke for the victims, their families, and the community, but my heart broke for those walking the journey of mental health. I wasn't going to take a stand I wasn't going to be a voice for those that didn't feel they had one, I was simply going to drive my 1200 miles home in a suburban full of chaos and country music. Yet, when we stopped for the night and I pulled up my email I had an email from your Gru asking if I could tell my story, if I could offer comfort and hope, if I had anything I could say. SIGH! Really!?! NO! I have parents from baseball on here, I have triathlete friends on here, I have teachers from my kids' school on here, I have friends I have met through rabbits and goats, people I haven't shared this with. I was digging my feet in, no way! Even the menial monetary compensation wasn't going to persuade me, I had struggled enough the last two weeks with the reminders of my mental health journey NO! Then on about the 3rd pee stop this morning I was scanning facebook and saw a most offensive post, the kind that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and dammit I knew it was time for me to swallow my pride, my embarrassment, and share my story and maybe my journey can offer someone some hope. So to you my mental health minions, I am joining ranks with your Gru, and I am about to show you what I am made of. I don't have any words of comfort, I don't have any words of hope, I just want you, through me, to see that some days are better than others and to never give up. It is absolutely possible to struggle and be more than okay!


A couple of years a go I wrote a blog titled I Am Me. The reason I wrote this is I so fear (read the next paragraph about my OCD fears) that when others will learn I have mental health struggles this is how they will view me. That I will lose friends, I will shame my family, I will no longer be viewed as a wife, mom, friend, triathlete, or a farmer. That instead I will be viewed with this huge mental health stigma. I fought getting the help I needed for so long because I told myself I am above this I am better than this I am not "one of them." I have two masters degrees, one bachelors degree, one associates, a boat load of certifications, my IQ is high enough to allow me to be apart of the illusive Mensa organization, I run a farm, I have a happy marriage, I am a mom to 6 yes SIX amazing kids, I am not your poster child for mental health struggles. I can't have this I am better than this. So ya' see even amongst the world of people struggling with mental health issues there is a stigma, we I mean me, never want to be grouped with  those individuals that bring mental health to the forefront of every news station across the country.


I have two official labels errrr I mean diagnosis Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and OCD. My OCD is not the traditional kind that so many are familiar with and or toss around without any thought to the ramifications of such verbiage. My OCD is more of a thought process OCD in that I obsess about the possibility of failure and do anything I possibly can to avoid failing in a situation. This failure often shows in two forms I will either go balls to the wall and will accept nothing but perfection from myself or I will self sabotage so I can neither succeed or fail. However, my main issue is BPD and even in typing that I feel like I have to say hold on not everyone with BPD is like Jody Arias. I know I am not! BPD is an emotional deregulation disorder. I can google all the definitions and terms and criteria but if you want to know that you can also, instead I am going to tell you what BPD looks in my life and how timely this blog is for me to write. There is no cure for BPD, however it is not a chemical imbalance in the brain such as depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia etc. There is no need for me personally, although many do so DO not take that statement as means in which to go off meds, to take medication. I worked and fought hard for a very long time to no longer meet the criteria for BPD and when this happened I thought HALLELUJAH I will never struggle again, however that isn't the case, I still struggle. It just isn't as intense, as crippling, as long lasting. I have very much become aware of my triggers and even in this close awareness of my triggers it doesn't mean that I can't still be triggered. Here is how BPD has manifested in my life the last couple weeks:




I have had a huge crisis in faith lately, for probably about six months. Crisis in faith to the point I wondered is there a God, and if there is a God how do I believe in all these things that are kind of out there? Ya' know like a statement I read at Easter that said the Jesus apocalypse and I haven't been able to shake it since. I was in a very big agnostic mindset and leaning heavily toward an atheist view point. But, I kept thinking to myself, what if I am wrong? What if I lead my kids in the wrong direction (you know the OCD mentioned above) During my son's spring baseball season I allowed myself to sort of get to know some of the moms. Nothing more than a hey how's it going, talking school talk, and of course the usual baseball banter. In the midst of one of these games one of the moms made the simple comment, "Coach is so quiet at church he gets fired up on the field." That was it end of statement. So many people mention church in passing, I couldn't tell you who they are or what they said, but her comment stuck! Weeks later I kept thinking you should ask Stacy about her faith you should ask her about God. Puhleeze WHATEVAH I don't know her! One day while driving into town (yes I totally texted and drove this one) I grabbed my phone off the seat and sent her a message and pretty much said so tell me about your faith tell me about your belief in God. AND I SENT IT! The second I did I wished I hadn't and then I thought maybe she won't answer...she read it, she answered. We have spent countless hours talking faith, God, church, religion, and in the midst of that I shared with her my trippin' days and of course quickly followed up with the triathlon part, and the door had been opened. Two days after her and I began talking and talking A LOT (oh wait I mean messaging because for those of you that do know me I am not a talker) I headed up to Wyoming to spend time with my family.


Under "normal" circumstances heading to my hometown is stressful for me. I don't really feel like I belong that I am welcome, accepted, or that my family can see past the struggles and the trippin' and just love me for me. However, this time was a bit abnormal. My step dad was in the hospital with blood clots in his lungs, I had planned a three day weekend at the lake with my dad, step mom, and kids (it had been five years since my dad had seen my kids and he had never met my youngest two), my grandpa with whom I love so much was recovering from a major life altering surgery. I was stressed out about the trip, I was extremely anxious that I had begun talking about my life with Stacy, I was trying to figure out this God thing, and my relationship with my bestie was shot to hell. For a person with BPD anyone of those things can flatten you, send you into a cycle, and send your defenses right back up. However, I was determined it would not and for the most part it didn't. One of the 1st things to go for me is personal relationships. A key component for a person with BPD is push pull and I am not the exception to that, in fact I am probably more like the rule. I like to have people in my life I like to have friends and I loved having a bestie, but if you read anything about BPD you will read how hard it is for relationships to be maintained. When I feel like I'm getting too close to someone, or I am stressed out, or I feel like I'm being questioned or judged, or someone just doesn't get what I'm saying I push them right out. Unfortunately this can also be people that are undeserving of the push.


I will not ever point fingers and blame my growing up on the fact I have BPD. However, it's a component, but I am 38 I am responsible for me. Even with a mental health journey we are responsible for ourselves. Whether that responsibility resides in medication, or in my case if that responsibility resides in keeping my mouth shut and not pushing people away. We are responsible and if we can't control our actions then we need to rethink the path we are on and reevaluate what we need to better our situation. However at 38 it doesn't mean I still don't long for that approval maybe that I didn't have from my dad as a kid. I don't really care he didn't attend my school activities, my sporting events, or my church things. I didn't really care he didn't come to AZ for my wedding and that he doesn't even know when my kids' birthdays are. Well I thought I didn't care. The 1st time I saw him on this trip he asked me, "So are you still doing those triathlon things" I felt my heart skip a beat he 1) not only remembered and 2) he cared, so I thought. I slipped I let my guard down. I shared with him about the 5 races I have coming up told him the distances, dates etc. He looked at me and said, "So do you plan on losing weight before you do them or are you doing them fat" I said well I guess on planning on doing them fat and he replied, "Okay was just checking" A key factor for my BPD is abandonment, maybe this is because I didn't have stability growing up but I instantly felt that BPD door open wide and I wanted to walk through. That statement stung, hurt, pissed me off, and humiliated me in ways I can never describe. In looking back I see that was the start of about a 5 day up and down push and pull lash out at people cycle.


I was determined to have fun and I did, but at the same time I caught myself thinking why couldn't he be this kind of dad, why did he have to wait to have grandkids? I caught myself being very self conscious of everything I ate, what I wore, how I sat, and anytime my kids brought up triathlons or swimming I instantly changed the subject. I was up and down with trying to figure out spiritual stuff and in passing dropped a comment like maybe I will just become a Mormon which was met with all kinds of opposition. I felt push and pulled and cornered and I came out swinging and pushing and pulling back. I destroyed my relationship with my sister as a result of not making the decision to just back off when I felt that BPD bubble rising to the surface. Instead I let it rise and not only did it rise it popped and all kinds of nasty junk slung forth from it and many harsh and unnecessary things were said. The second they were out of my mouth I regretted them, but I felt better. You know like when you have a blister and you pop it and you regret popping it because it's raw but you are glad you did because it feels better at the same time, yeah well my emotional BPD blister popped. However, just because I felt a release I felt terrible and there was no mending it. Because, I had just given a verbal beat down on my sister, the one person that has always had my back, I felt like a shitty person that no wonder I didn't believe in God because how could He believe in me, which then led to a huge push and lashing out on Stacy the one that was trying to help me figure out God. You get it you see the pattern! The reality that I had lost my bestie a month prior, the reality that I had just lost my sister, and the reality that the one person that hadn't left yet and didn't really know me was trying to help me with God had just gotten a huge push was TOUGH!


I share all this with you to say, there will be hard days, you will struggle, you will say and do things that are just straight up lame. You will lose people close to you because of your actions and you will lose people close to you because they can't handle you taking a stand for what you need. However, you are okay! I know that when I allow my BPD bubble to burst and nastiness spews forth I feel like I am not okay that I am worthless and will never overcome, but that is so far from the truth. It doesn't define me it isn't me and whatever your mental health struggle is it doesn't define you and it isn't you. It is a component of who I am and it is a component of who you are. I often align my self worth with others opinions of me. Others not knowing about my mental health struggles, I used to feel made me it all better, made me better! However, these last two weeks, when I wanted to tell Stacy, or some triathlon friends or my coach, or whomever when I wanted them to understand I'm not just a bitch and I realized how much hiding it has impacted me over the course of the last year. I do not have to plug in my little flashing neon sign and carry it with me that says BPD/OCD but it isn't something that I need to be so ashamed of. I know, for me personally, when events such as the one in SC occur, and people begin thinking about how to help/save those that have mental health issues I want to crawl into a hole until it gets pushed back under a rock because I feel judged. However, I am my greatest judge and jury! Do not allow events like what has happened in our country, or comments on social media, or statements from family members, or ended relationships ruin you. They hurt, they sting, they slow you down, but you are ok! You may not always feel okay and you may often feel alone, but you will be okay and you aren't alone! There are people out there that truly care, there are people out there that will walk beside you and hold your hand every step of the way don't be your own worst enemy and self isolate, I promise it does not help! Just remember tonight, you are worthy and I care!

Fist Pumping and Other Parking Lot Oddities

One of my two favorite seasons is spring, spring brings about some pretty amazing things! Baseball!! Gardens!! Farm babies!! Weather under 115 degrees!! However, spring is also the season of struggle in my life. There's really no reason for it other than, I guess that's just how I'm wired. For the 1st time in five years, this spring I was prepared for the season that was upon me, however, it didn't come without it's challenges. But, I can stay I did not start trippin' and I am still training for that triathlon.


I have always been so ashamed of the fact I have BPD, I honesty can not think of another thing in my life that holds more shame. This is lame I know, because it isn't something I chose, it isn't something I did, or a path I picked for myself to walk on. The shame comes from embarrassment, the shame comes from what will others think when they know, the shame comes from the fact I feel that I am better than this. I get so frustrated when people say to me it's nothing to be ashamed of. I know that, but please don't invalidate my feelings surrounding it. I despise, " don't worry what others think," it does such a disservice to my valid thoughts and emotions. Can you truly show me a person that hasn't worried what others thought, at least at some point in their life? The mentality of don't worry what others think not only belittles the emotions but also feeds into that self righteous, I'm all that matters mentality. We live in a society in which everyone has an opinion, everyone is judged. It doesn't matter what it is about, we live in an age where shaming has become perfectly acceptable, and mental health sadly isn't the exception it is the rule.


Surrounding every large scale crisis, be it a pilot taking down an entire plane, a couple of men bombing a race, someone shooting a child or a family or a movie theater filled with patrons, etc mental health momentarily comes to the forefront and the powers that be band together demanding mental health awareness, but mental health isn't like physical health there isn't a cut and dry solution. It is these short lived national mental health campaigns that make my shame greater. I want to undo ever telling anyone I have BPD or that I was in the hospital, each and every time one of these campaigns surface because that is not me, that is not the face of mental illness, yet sadly that is what society sees. I understand no one is in control of my shame, just like no one is in control of yours, but it is this shame that has caused me to take a stand and share a bit of my story, from this last year, with you, hoping that you can find hope, peace, and know that you are not alone. Not everyone that struggles with BPD or other mental health issues resembles those that make the news.


Last May I had a follow up appointment with my psychologist. She is very well versed in BPD and I really liked her, dare I say I might have even trusted her. I sat across from her answering her slew of questions and proudly proclaiming to her that I was no longer trippin' I was one year drug free I was sober. At the end of the appointment she said to me, "Ryan you no longer meet the criteria for a diagnosis of BPD" No lies I did the happy dance all the way to my suburban, I called my bestie Denise, I texted Robin and Roger, I was so happy! I had done it I had done something so many told me could never be done. I no longer had BPD! Do I say that I am cured? Do I say that I am in remission? It didn't matter because fist pump and other parking lot oddities I was no longer living under this label. However, wait! The same person that walked out of the office is the one that walked in! I had worked so hard at both sanity and sobriety I was no longer trippin' and because I held so much shame around my BPD because I no longer met the criteria for a diagnosis that must mean poof the little magical psychologist fairy wand was waved I WAS CURED! Please don't get me wrong I put in a lot of hard work to no longer meet the criteria, but because of the shame I held I wanted so badly to believe that because she told me this all the daily struggles would vanish into thin air. I felt that because I had proclaimed to anyone that would listen I NO LONGER HAVE BPD that all the daily ins and outs of this illness would also just evaporate. When they didn't the shame grew, I felt that I was failing that I had done something wrong because I wasn't supposed to have this anymore. But, it's like my elbow. I busted up my elbow when I was 12. It no longer meets the criteria some 26 years later for a broken bone but there are still days that it hurts and aches and reminds me that it was once broken rather badly, that although it is healed there is still residual pain, and pain that sometimes pops up for no reason even when I'm not using my elbow. The same occurs with my BPD, there are days that it hurts and aches and reminds me that not so long ago I was broken rather badly. Yet, I hold no shame in saying "ouch my elbow hurts from when I broke it when I was 12" but for me to say "my emotions hurt, my thoughts ache from when I was broken when BPD was a driving force in my life"


So today I am telling you all sometimes I still hurt and ache and it wasn't that too long ago I was broken badly with BPD. If you were to look at they symptoms or the criteria for BPD there are many that I are mute issue for me that have no impact on my life whatsoever. I do not engage in impulsive behaviors in fact it is much the opposite I plan and think things out maybe a little too much. However, I used to! This is where my drug addictions came into play. I also do not have suicidal or self harming behaviors. I can't even think of the last time either of these thoughts came into play. However, again, they used to. If you were to see pictures of me from not so many years ago I had 11 yes 11 facial piercings, why? Because, the pain from the piercing was a release for me. Periods of intense depressed mood nah I'm not depressed I haven't been since I stopped the cocaine. However, this is where my "no longer" ends.


My struggles with BPD are all very much relational. In some of my other blogs I have spoken about the walls I had built, that I dislike people, that I don't need or want friends. Of those three statements only the walls statement is in fact true. I like people, I want and need friends but because of the struggles I have with people it is easier for me to just say I don't like people I don't want friends, when in fact the opposite is very true. The deep and personal struggles I have had this year, that I have shared with no one, purely out of shame, because I am supposed to be cured remember, is that of relationships. I have let more people into my circle, into my life this year, and let's just be honest that freaks me the fuck out! I pretend it is ok, that I can handle it, but instead it freaks me the fuck out! I literally go into a panic mode! This past year I have added a triathlon coach, a friend I met through rabbits, I have shared my story with teachers at my kids school, I have told a mom friend, the list goes on. When I try to share with those that were already in my circle that have walked this path with me from the beginning that I can not handle this I can't handle letting people into my life, I am often told give it a chance it is good for you. In theory I see that, but please don't invalidate where I am at right now because the struggle is real! A deep and harsh reality is that I don't know how to deal with the anxiety, the fear, the worry of letting someone in. Then I tend to split with this person. NO, I don't mean split like go our separate ways and ABSOLUTELY NO I don't mean split like I have multiple personalities I split with the people wanting them close to me but needing them out of my life. I draw them in only to push them out. I often get told I am a thoughtless heartless bitch, but this splitting hurts me just as much as it hurts the other person. I had one person tell me recently well if it hurts you don't do it. Ummm, well okay then, my elbow hurts me to and I can't just not let it hurt. I can do things to prevent my elbow from hurting and I can get it to hurt less, but somedays it just happens it just hurts. I do not now nor ever use my BPD as an excuse for my actions I am responsible for them, but some times some moments it gets the best of me. I am not a cold heartless thoughtless bitch, I hurt and feel probably way deeper than most.


I hate hate hate the word abandonment yet I think I hate it because of the shame it holds. If you couple the fear of abandonment with the splitting actions I get trapped into a vicious emotional and mental circle. I freak the fuck out because people are in my circle, and because I freak the fuck out split I pull them in I push them out, and because I split I fear the abandonment of those I have let into my circle, and because I fear abandonment and don't know how to talk about all this without shame bam it often comes out as inappropriate, intense, or uncontrollable anger. Welcome to the world of BPD! This is what the world refers to as a cycle and y'all even though I no longer meet the criteria for BPD this cycle is still a part of my life and I can guarantee you it happens every single time I expand my circle a little bit.


This spring I have expanded my circle a lot, way more than I have ever expanded it before in my entire, gasp nearly 38 years. This expansion has hurt, it has hurt me and it has hurt some of the relationships I value the most. It hurt these relationships because I held so much shame I couldn't even tell them I was struggling so instead when I freaked the fuck out I blew up. Sorry only goes so far, but I don't know what else to say. I truly didn't mean to. It honestly just happened before I knew what was happening. And while I'm on this path of all things honest when I blew up it was this huge release and for like a split second I felt better until I didn't until I felt worse. I don't ever want to use my BPD as an excuse or as a reason but the more I have denied the fact that I still have components, the more I have stuffed it, the more I have faked it til I maked it, the more I was less honest with myself and those close to me the more this junk got out of hand.


So here I sit blogging for all of you to read, telling you, you have got this you aren't alone, I understand, because these last 2 weeks I did a lot of damage to some very meaningful relationships. But here's the deal! Honesty is the best policy. Had I only been honest with myself, with my bestie, with a few others in my circle I would have had to deal with the vicious freak the fuck out cycle of expanding my circle alone. I just want you to listen, errrr read this and believe me when I say if I can do this if I can be real and honest and open if I can overcome if I can fight the BPD demons so can you! I can't tell you that you won't feel shame, because I won't invalidate your feelings like that, because shame is real. I can't tell you that you won't feel this overwhelming anxiety wondering what others will think and worrying about what if no one wants to be my friend. I can't tell you that the silence of those close to you won't be deafening but I can tell you DIG DEEP! Get honest, get real! Find that person that you can freak the fuck out with that you can let in your circle that you know that no matter what happens they will be there. May is BPD awareness month find that person those persons that you can be real with that you can make aware of your BPD struggles, hurts, irrationalities and aches because BPD breaks us. Become painfully aware of your own BPD struggles this month see what you need to do to conquer. You too can go from trippin' to triathlons and know you are never alone you are worthy of having someone in that circle of yours!