Going to the chapel

[continued from previous post 'Socially Anxious']


Going to a new church was definitely not my idea of fun, but I needed to do it. Without a doubt, I don’t think I would ever make myself go if I didn’t think it was important for my children. I explained to the kids we weren’t going to be going to Grandma’s church anymore. We were going to have our own church where we didn’t know anyone. It was going to be so exciting because all of the other kids had been there for a while and they were going to be new so everyone would want to know who they were.

Porter wanted to know if they would sing the “Welcome” song they always sing to new people when they come. That really tickled him. I told them the building was going to be new to us, so we would be going on an adventure to find our way around and figure out where we were supposed to go. Oddly, they were quite thrilled by this new adventure and thought it would be cool to have our own ward.

I approached the church Sunday morning and had my three little ducks following behind me. I think I did such a good job of convincing them how much fun it was, I erased my own fears. Not completely of course.  I was talking out loud when we walked in saying, “I’m not sure where to go.” Porter piped in, “Just ask someone. Everyone is nice.” I love my kids. They are so much more stable and social and unafraid then I am. I think that most of the time they are the teacher and I am the student.

I made it through. Several people really reached out to me and made me feel really comfortable. It is a very humble ward, unlike the affluent ward we came from. Neither good or bad, just different. No manicured nails; and not one fancy department store dress;  no trendy or modern hairdos (perms are back in style—or never went out in this ward); The ward is very poor and had to cancel an activity due to lack of funds. Each ward has to live off of their own tithing and fast offerings. Strange how one ward can have so much affluence for their kids and activities while another struggles. Don’t get me wrong or misunderstand at all; the affluent ward is filled with giving people who are ready to serve and are righteous.

This ward is humble and full of heart. You can feel that. I think I am going to live. I was asked to sing in the choir. I laughed and said that’s impossible. I can’t sing. I’m tone deaf and have holes in each eardrum. The dear sister insisted she could help me sing. I don’t know, I would hate to disappoint her. Big sigh of relief! I made it. I might be able to do it again. It’s good to know that I can get better. That’s one of the best things about being human. Having self-awareness to change and improve.

Like Mary Tyler Moore, “I think I’m going to make it after all.” (As a bonus, I am the prettiest girl in Relief Society and kind of thinking about joining the choir.)

Anxiously Social...not!

In my late teens and early twenties, I became acutely aware that I had a serious inability to be in a social situation where there was a group of people or if I was in an unfamiliar place. It was so serious, I would actually exhibit physiological signs like palms sweating, flushed, rapid heartbeats, feeling faint, and short of breath. 

To give some examples, I was supposed to meet the brother of a guy I had been dating. I walked in to the front of the restaurant—knowing they were there waiting for me. This was before cell phones, so I couldn’t call or contact them. I could see them from where I was. But, I was so immobilized by the people in the restaurant my feet were like they were stuck in concrete. I turned around and walked out. I never showed up because I could not walk through the people. 

I remember going to Vicki’s church when I was married and my husband wouldn’t go with me. I arrived late and the meeting had already started. I almost walked in and then I saw how full the chapel was. I couldn’t move. I literally backed up and sat on the couch to wait for the meeting to end. I planned to find her afterward, but I was so panicked and terrified about all of the people that were pouring out of the chapel, I couldn’t breathe. I got up and sprinted out the door, just to catch my breath. I ran out to my car and drove as fast as I could home. I cried the whole way.

I was with my mother-in-law at a women’s conference. She wandered off to talk to someone and when I realized I was all alone, it hit me. I wasn’t expecting it and felt like I had gotten over it at this point in my life. Out of nowhere, I was in a crowded room filled with people and the panic showed up out of nowhere. I had to leave and ran outside. Of course, eventually I had to come back in and find her.

I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what was wrong with me. It was embarrassing. I knew I was too old to not know how to behave normally. But no matter how I tried to push it out of my head, it was there and it was real. I would do things—or rather not do things that were so odd because of my inability to interact normally—that were misunderstood and honestly strange to everyone else. I couldn’t tell anyone, it sounded so ridiculous. 

After a lot of research, I self-diagnosed social anxiety, which best describes my behavior. It’s a mental disorder—add it to my list. With years of trying to overcome it, I have gotten better. I can prepare myself and since I’ve learned what it is and what causes it, I can cope with it more. Every event or place I have gone where people—normal people—interact, I am experiencing immense pain, fear, anxiety and on the verge of tears. I fake it till I make it, doing anything and everything to hide my secret. To succinctly summarize, it sucks to be a grown woman who would like to hide behind her mother’s skirt. 

Ironically, if you ask me to speak in front of a group of 200 people I am stoked! I love public speaking. I can get up in front of a group and speak extemporaneously. I enjoy training groups of people, teaching classes, giving talks, etc. You can try to figure out the psychological imbalance of my life if you want, but I’ve tried my whole life and haven’t gotten very far. So, I just accept it for what it is.

On that introduction, I wanted to talk about my trip to my new ward today.  I remember how painstaking it was to attend church at the age of 30 and still single with social anxiety. It was brutal every Sunday to go. Now, for the first time in 10 years I was going to have to introduce myself as a 42 year old divorcee. Trust me, for all my efforts of overcoming this, everything came rushing back. I. Was. Terr-i-fied. But, I had three little children to take with me, and I didn’t want them to know how fearful I was to attend. I had to make it exciting so they wouldn’t follow my emotional lead. Funny how kids can be the best reason to find courage. 

To be continued… [I’m too tired to finish this one]

Happy Birthday to our Angel Ari

At bedtime, my kids love to hear stories. I always tell them stories about me growing up or different people in my family. They love it and it gives me a chance to share their family history. Tonight, we told stories about Arianna Lane, my niece who passed away from cancer when she was three. I was surprised by how much they remembered. Today she would have turned 5.

One of the hardest questions I have ever been asked in my life was when my brother (her dad) called me shortly after she had passed. He asked, "Will you give Ari's eulogy?" My heart sank and I wanted to say I'll do anything but that. But I couldn't. Of course I said yes, but had no idea what to say or how to honor a three year old. I sincerely believe that Ari inspired me to write what I wrote. I know it didn't come from me. There is so much I could say about this. So many lessons to glean from her parents, her siblings, and her life. She touched a lot of people. Her full life journey is documented at www.prayforari.blogspot.com. I just wanted to share her eulogy, which is what I think is really a letter from her.

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Dear Mom and Dad,

It’s me, Ari. My journey on Earth began in Washington, UT on October 26, 2007 where I was born at home. I loved a good joke from the day I was born and I thought it was so funny I had convinced you both that I was a boy. During your pregnancy, you thought I was a boy. And when I was born, I remember you and Dad kept saying that I looked exactly like my brother, Taylor. I just smiled when the midwife surprised you by telling you I was a girl. I was so happy to be here to receive my earthly body and to live my life so that I would return once again to my Father in Heaven. I still remember you holding me that day, and telling me I was too precious for this world. My birth was peaceful and painless for you, Mom. I knew that we would have plenty of pain in the future. It has been an incredible journey. I was so lucky to have lived the life I did.

Mom…Mother…those are very sacred words to a child. I learned just how special a mother is very early on. But I had no idea just how special my mother would be in my life. We shared something so amazing, so wonderful, I don’t even think it was of this world. You were my Mom, my friend, my sister, my protector…Mom, you were everything to me in my short life that I lived. I can’t even begin to thank you enough for how much of your life you sacrificed for me. I learned so much from you. 

Mom, you were the first one that sensed something was wrong with me. Even when I was a baby, I remember how many pictures you took of me. Your spirit somehow sensed that my time here would be very short. Just like so many things, your intuition was right. I can’t even begin to name the many acts of selfishness you did for me, Mom. I first started getting what everyone thought was cradle cap when I was just 16 months old. That was the beginning of the disease that would shorten my time on earth.

On 4^th of July weekend I woke up in the middle of the night incredibly thirsty. It seemed like after that, I just couldn’t get enough water. By September, I was drinking 2 gallons of water a day. My condition started to rapidly deteriorate. That was the first time I ended up in Primary Children’s hospital. The doctors said I had 3 days to live. They started aggressive chemotherapy in the hopes of saving me. That would be the first of many times, I would be close to death. The rest of my life, from that point forward, was spent in and out of Primary Children’s Hospital—mostly in and not enough out.

I cannot imagine how terrifying it must be to be a parent and to learn that your child may die. I had a feeling my condition was serious, but the one thing I admired most about you, Mom and Dad, was that you never got sad or upset. In fact, Dad, you were always joking with the nurses and doctors and trying to cheer everyone else up. I think they thought you were crazy because you didn’t get sad. But they don’t know what I know—that I have the most amazing parents—who through life’s greatest trials had peace in their hearts, a love for the Savior, and a desire to be happy even if it was just to let me know everything was going to be okay.

I remember another time I came close to death. My heart rate jumped to 228 beats per minute. My blood pressure was 42/14. Dad was right by my side as they rushed me to ICU. He kept asking me what I was mumbling, but I didn’t want to stop what I was saying. He finally figured out I was praying when he heard me say, “In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.” I prayed because that is what you taught me to do by word and deed.

I know you both always said I was such a fighter—and I was—I got that from both of you. You guys are pretty tough. Mom, remember when you decided to run a marathon even when you had spent the last two months lying in bed with me? You went with the intention of running only 8 or 10 miles, but you ended up finishing. I know you said it was because you kept thinking about how much pain I had endured and that you kept going because you knew you couldn’t complain about pain. I was so proud of you. Who’s Mom does that? My Mom, that’s who—because you are amazing, Mom.

Dad, I am so grateful that you were so funny all of the time. You could always make me laugh and that’s what I usually needed the most. My favorite video was what I called my “Daddy” movie. It was just a home video but it showed you doing so many funny things. I watched it over and over and laughed every time. I really am your biggest fan, Dad.

I can’t forget my brother or any of my sisters either. What a great family I came to. Kaley has been like a second Mother to me. I know I needed so much care that I actually needed a second Mom. Kaley, you were the best big sister a little girl could have asked for. You took such good care of me. I really trusted you, Kaley. You always tried to make sure I was having fun. You are such a great example to me and you have so many talents.

Taylor, you’re the best brother I have and you were my protector. You would always make sure I was safe and if you thought someone was being mean or going to cause me pain, you were the first person to my aid.

Alaina, my dear sweet sister, you were willing to give your life for me. When Mom and Dad had everyone tested for bone marrow so that I could have a transplant you thought you won the lottery because you were the only match. You didn’t care about the pain or the sacrifice. I was so touched when you told someone you were going to die so that I could have all of your bones and blood. You really were willing to give me your life so that I could live.

My little darling sister, Lilly. You are a special blessing to our family at this time. When Mom was pregnant with you, she would still stay in bed and hold me. I feel so close to you even though our lives on earth did not overlap much. You have such a sparkling personality and are so happy, I am so glad you have come at this time. You will be such a help to Mom and she will have you to dote on.

Mom and Dad, my journey on Earth was amazing. I know it was filled with a lot of pain, but I hope you don’t remember that because it was also filled with much joy and happiness. There are so many lessons I learned and I know you have too. I learned to love the Savior and have so much respect for His mission on Earth. He was with me throughout so much of my suffering. I know this without a doubt. I didn’t come here with the purpose to change people’s lives, I just wanted to be obedient and return to my Father in Heaven someday.

Mom, I know you’re hurting. I wish I could be there like you were there for me when I hurt so bad. I can’t hug you or hold you right now, but I know that Dad gives the best hugs in the world. And, that when he holds you, everything in the world seems right. He held me a lot when I was on Earth. So when you’re sad, just hug Daddy for me and I promise I’ll be there in every hug he gives you.

Dad, you’re amazing. You have always been so kind and patient. When I was in the hospital, you always had a smile on your face and tried to make everyone laugh. Your sense of humor and good attitude got me through a lot. No matter how much pain I was in, I knew you were there. You are so strong and I know you hurt when you couldn’t help me and I would cry out for you. But, I want you to know you helped me in so many ways. I am so proud that you were my Daddy.

Dad, I remember our trips to the gas station. You would buy me a baby coke and gummi bears. I really just liked to go out and spend time with my dad. When I got really sick I didn’t like to eat much, but you did and you would always take me with you. You would even let me order food even though you knew I was never going to eat it. I just had fun being with you and watching you eat.

Mom and Dad, I don’t want you to have any regrets. You did more than enough for me. You sacrificed so much and I learned so much when I was with you. All of us grew in our strength and testimony of our Savior Jesus Christ. Towards the end of my life, I kept hanging on. I wanted to go when you were ready for me to go. I don’t regret one minute of my life. I know that as you both knelt down and prayed in the hospital to let me go, that the Lord was with you. I know that my time on earth was up and that it was time for me to return to my Heavenly home.

I passed to the next life on January 23, 2011 at 9:20 pm while my mother held me in her arms and kept her hand over my heart until it quit beating. I came into this world with both of my parents anxiously awaiting my arrival…and I left peacefully with both of you there so say goodbye.

I cannot describe in words how much I love my family. I may not continue with you on Earth, but I promise each of you, I will be the first one waiting to greet you when it is your time to come. I will never be far away. I love you, Mom and Dad.

Love your daughter,

Arianna

Scariest elementary haunted house ever

The kids are so excited about Halloween. Since I have the kids for the holiday, I am obligated to buy their costumes. They wanted specific things: Captain America for Lane; Spider Monkey Alien from Ben 10 for Porter; and Madison wanted to be a Lady Bug. Of course, the divorce guilt always makes you want to get them what they want. Okay, it’s just the mom guilt I guess. I love seeing them happy, especially when it comes to make believe. I searched for the cheapest costumes I could find and low and behold Amazon had them 10 to 15 dollars cheaper than retail stores.

I had to wait til payday to order them and wasn’t sure just what bills I was going to have to juggle, but decided to throw down the dough. They came in two shipments--one for the twins and one for Lane. The twins’ package showed up on Thursday and was delivered to the office. Unfortunately, since my legal name change the office didn’t believe it was the right person so they sent it back with the driver. I don’t even want to go into the multitude of calls and lies given and taken from the delivery company. They couldn’t locate the driver, they couldn’t find the package, it was a nightmare. The package still has not come, but Amazon refunded one costume and sent me a replacement of the other. I can buy Porter’s in town—just ten bucks more.

I sat the kids down and explained we were going to have a Plan B as the costumes definitely weren’t going to be here by Saturday for their school Spooktacular. Bless their little hearts they dug through my costume box and found old costumes and dress up stuff. Madison put on her 49ers cheerleader outfit and Porter picked out a “ninja” costume. They were such good sports and didn’t complain at all, even when Lane’s cute little muscle man Captain America showed up. 

When we were walking to the school event, people were passing us and Lane said, “Mom, no one even recognizes me.” He was so pleased that he was such a convincing Captain America. I wanted to say that’s because no one would recognize you if you didn’t have your costume on, but I didn’t want to ruin his illusion that no one really believed he was the real Captain America.

We went to Spooktacular at their elementary school. I was so disappointed they were charging for breathing at the event. The kids really wanted to go to the Haunted house so we stood in line for 45 minutes waiting for that. And, it cost me 8 bucks for all of us. I only had 20 bucks with me so we had to budget, budget, budget. Halfway through the spook house, Madison had fallen to her knees in terror. Screaming, crying, and not moving one bit. We were holding onto a rope with a group of people and I could not get her to move. I had to pick her up and carry her.

Porter lasted almost until the end and then he had a break down. He usually gets upset if Madison is crying or hurt. She has no feelings when it’s happening to him. Both of the twins were frozen with fright and screaming at the top of their lungs. I’m trying to get them to keep moving. It’s impossible for me to hold both of them, plus I had Lane to worry about who was leisurely traipsing through the maze as if he were looking at art in a museum.

Somehow, we finally get to the end and have to exit out a door that happens to be close to the line of people that are waiting in line to go in. There were literally at least 100 people standing there when we came out so I’m guesstimating 200 hundred eyeballs were on us. I can’t walk—one has one leg and one has the other. They are STILL screaming in terror with tears running down their cheeks. It takes me awhile to get them to SHUT UP! I keep telling them we’re outta there so calm down. It’s over and I can’t believe I paid eight bucks for this. Lane is walking nonchalantly behind them as a little miniature Captain America with his palms face up saying, “What? What guys? It wasn’t that scary. It's even real.”

They vowed to never go to a haunted house again. Madison said, “I knew it was going to be scary, but I thought it was going to be like, ‘Boo!’ scary.” After that we bought shaved ice and they calmed down. With our remaining three tickets we bought two slices of pizza. The kids had more fun playing on the playground with their friends. Porter had to go to the bathroom and so I escorted him, but not before leaving strict instructions with Madison to watch Lane. Right before Porter was done, I was scanning the playground to check on my other two. I see Lane in an open area with a police officer squatted down next to him. Oh my gosh! I think. Lane is notorious for screaming, “Mom!” very loudly when he can’t find me. He’s not crying he just thinks if he yells loud enough I’ll hear him from China. I grab Porter’s arm and tell him I have to run to get Lane. I’m running through the playground and see another police officer show up. Now one of them is on the radio and they’re looking around for an irresponsible mother. 

In my marathon trek, I pass Madison leisurely sitting on the monkey bars with her friend watching the whole scene unfold. As I run by I yell, “Madison I told you to watch him!” I am watching him Mom, he’s right there. That girl.

I run up to the police officers and try to explain I was at the bathroom with one of my twins and saw him from afar. They were really cool about it and cancelled their call to Child Protective Services. I asked Lane what he said to them. He said nothing. Well what did they ask you? He said they wanted to know what my Mom’s name was. I told them, “Whizabith Lane.” And did they ask your name? Yea, I told them my name was Lane. Okay, so now they think his name is probably Lane Lane. He said, “I didn’t tell them your name was Mom because they wouldn’t know who that was.” He smiled smugly as if he was just that smart.

On the walk back to the car, Lane started singing his own version of Taylor Swift’s song:

And twins will never ever ever ever go to back to haunted houses again

Cause first she screamed and then he screamed and I just laughed

Oh we-ee-ee will never ever ever ever go back to there again

The twins were disgruntled and said, “Stop singing that song, Lane!” So he started the verse again.

God taught me a lesson today

Today, God gave me a lesson I didn’t even realize I needed.

I was driving back to the office from Target, windows down, letting the breeze cut through the stillness of my thoughts. The weather was perfect—the kind that makes you pause and actually notice life for a moment. As I slowed down, easing into the parking lot, a young woman called out, “Excuse me...”

Here we go, I thought. Another panhandler. I’ve been through this before: the awkward exchange, the inevitable “I don’t have any cash on me” because—truthfully—I don’t. I make it a point not to carry cash, always prepared with a reason not to give.

But this time, I stopped. She asked if I was parking there, and when I said yes, she surprised me. “Could I wash your windows for some money?” she asked. She held up a knapsack with cleaner and paper towels. She wasn’t asking for a handout; she was asking to work.

I looked at her. There was something in her eyes—something strong, something proud. She didn’t seem like someone used to being in a place like this, but here she was, humble enough to do what she needed to survive. She wasn’t beneath asking for money, but she wasn’t about to take it for free. And in her, I saw a reflection of myself.

I’ve been in places I never expected to be financially. I’ve worked jobs I never imagined I’d have to, sometimes juggling two at once just to keep the bills paid. Like her, I’ve felt the weight of needing to provide, of wondering if I was doing enough for my kids, of holding onto pride even when life stripped it bare.

And yet, I’ve complained. I’ve grumbled about my cramped living space, my car payments, my laundry piling up for trips to the complex laundromat. I’ve been annoyed by the broken TV that barely gets three channels and an air conditioner that can’t decide if it wants to freeze me or melt me. My loneliness in Vegas has been a constant hum in the background, amplified by the lack of time or energy to make new friends.

But this woman—this stranger washing windows to survive—made me see everything differently. She told me she lived under the tunnel down the road. I knew the place. Homeless people gather there, finding shelter where they can. She laughed about her worn-out shirt that barely covered her and said she needed food. Skinny but not frail, she looked like someone who spent her last pennies on survival, not indulgence.

My automatic response was ready: “I don’t carry cash.” But then I remembered something odd—something out of the ordinary. At Target, I’d asked for cash back. I rarely do that, but for some reason, I had that day. A few dollar bills sat tucked in my wallet, intended for the vending machine at the office.

“Wait,” I said, stopping myself mid-sentence. “I actually do have some money.” I gave her half of it, even though I’d skipped buying things for myself at Target to save money. As she began working on my windows, I handed her a bottle of water from my purse. She thanked me for the opportunity, her gratitude as genuine as her pride.

I walked towards the building, the weight of the moment settling over me. Fast-forward images flashed through my mind: my home, my car, my closet full of clothes, my cabinets stocked with food. My kids, who smother me with hugs and “I love you, Mom” notes taped to the walls. My job waiting for me inside, my friends cheering me on from afar, the simple luxuries I take for granted every single day.

And then there were the gifts I’d received just this past week: $20 from a friend, a $50 Chili’s gift card from a cousin, a handwritten letter full of encouragement and love. By the time I reached the door, I was ready to give her the shirt off my back—literally. I had a sweatshirt on over it and wouldn’t have thought twice about taking it off. But when I turned around, she was gone. My windows sparkled, and so did the realization settling into my heart.

I looked up at the sky and whispered, “Thank you. I got it. I really got it.” 

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By the way, this picture I found reminded me of her. The determined look and strength in her eyes. But, this picture is of Tyra Banks posing as a homeless person.