December

So many things I planned to write. Now December, and 2024, will be gone in just a couple nights.

The month, the year, has passed steadily. I find myself leaving it readily.

Although the last month in particular was filled with joy, it’s all been filled with business and busy-ness.

A month full of words I meant to explore. Words I will keep in me for a bit more.

Soon I will share them, they are ready to come out. I look forward to the lessons and memories I learn more about.

Life is good, with all of its trial. And I am proud to say that I will enter 2025 with a smile.

Hannalyn is 11

Dear Hannalyn,

Happy birthday to you. We have had the best week celebrating you and all the good you are. Thank you for being such an amazing light of goodness and kindness. Your example, your heart, your love all lift us up so much.

Today you are 11 and I thank all my lucky stars that you are mine always and forever.

Love always, Mom.

Gratitude

We had an early Thanksgiving with my family yesterday and while I’m still feeling all the good stuff, I wanted to write about it.

My family is amazing. I am so incredibly grateful for them. Having all my family together for the whole day was a huge blessing and we had the best time.

After a very full day, hanging out and eating and playing games- all the best things- I just am happy and grateful.

Very redundant. :) Happy and grateful and documenting such.

Guilt is stupid

I said it. :)

I think it is so dumb that whenever I feel good about something, I also feel guilt for something else.

When I’m a good mom, guilt tells me I’m a bad spouse.

When I’m a good spouse, guilt tells me I’m a bad mom.

When I’m good at my job, I’m bad at the rest of my life.

When I perform well, other things are sliding and my priorities “aren’t correct”.

When I take time off, I’m “not committed” but when I never take time off, again my priorities are called into question.

When I read a book, I’m not doing enough meaningful things.

When I mourn childhood, I should be grateful for what I have.

.

Are you exhausted yet? I am. And all these thoughts entered my head just today.

Guilt is stupid. I am working on living my life the best I can, doing all I can to live with hope and happiness, being a good person and taking care of those I love.

And that’s all. No inspiring thoughts today. Just a goal to not let these invasive thoughts get the best of me.

Loaves & fishes

I’m a huge fan of Dallas Jenkins and The Chosen. HUGE fan. (Going to watch “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever” tomorrow type of fan.)

He talks a lot about the feeding of the five thousand, and it was one of my favorite parts in the series to watch. Dallas says often that we bring what we have to the Lord and He makes the miracle. In a recent devotional that he gave at BYU, Dallas said that his wife Amanda used the phrase “God does impossible math”.

Boy oh boy I love that so much.

A couple weeks ago, we were getting ready to open our October show and struggling to find popcorn boxes. Couldn’t get them anywhere. Anything online had awful shipping and the ones we get in SLC were out of stock. And I probably should just let it go, but I love the size of our boxes. Perfect for sharing or if you like lots, it’s a good big single box. The smaller boxes you can’t share, the bigger boxes feel oversized. I’ve been trying to brainstorm which way to go, but just can’t decide. I really like the ones we use.

Well, we did the math, and if figured out the number of boxes we could sell each night and not run out of boxes after the show. I had some smaller ones as back up and we just entered into it going to do our best. That number was about 50 boxes per show.

Opening night of the show we sold 73 boxes of popcorn.

Our highest selling night of popcorn ever before that was 66. We had no reason to expect to sell 73. But there we were.

I texted my dad and he sent “Congrats?”. Which is about how I felt. Yay for amazing sales and oh crap we are running out for sure.

The next two nights did not sell 73 each, but they both did well over the expected and, more importantly, more than our 50 number. So I started thinking about how and when to make the switch to the smaller boxes.

Fourth night, more than 50 boxes sold. Counted up trying to decide if I had enough for one more night and…

had enough for two more nights with ten left over if we sold about 60 each night.

…what?!

Somehow, even though we sold WAY more popcorn than expected, we would not only make it through the last two shows with boxes, we would have extra?

I told my dad and he said “Wow. Loaves and fishes, huh?”

And I said, “Yes. Exactly. Loaves and fishes.”

We had exactly six boxes left at the end of closing night.

God does impossible math. ❤️

I don’t trust easily.

The first time I remember needing to make myself smaller I was ten. I overheard an older girl telling her friends who I looked up to that I was “an annoying kid” for wanting to always be near the older kids.

Again when I was twelve, I overheard at girls talking in a tent as I approached “oh I hope Nashelle doesn’t get assigned to our tent.” “Me too, she is so annoying.” I’d been assigned to that tent for girls camp and as I was the only beehive that year, I was put with the Mia Maids.

Both of these instances taught me quickly and rudely the importance of not listening to others talk about yourself. Eavesdroppers never hear good things about themselves is a lesson I learned in books and life (not that I was doing that- the first instance the girl deliberately raised her voice so I could hear and the second I was walking and just not in view).

I was told at my own 14th birthday party that I was too self-absorbed by a girl who I had asked what was wrong when I found her crying. Apparently, she was upset my party was bigger than hers had been (14 people were there) and then me asking after her hurt feelings was the last straw and she was mad.

These and other painful instances taught me not to trust people who I looked up to and thought were my friends. The girl who made the comment when I was ten later approached me and my mom and told her how cute I was. The girls in the tent made loud exclamations when I entered the tent, though they quickly left. I offered the girl at my party choice of games we should play and she chose one she could be in control of and lead out for long past the time it should have lasted.

I have probably not had more than an average number of experiences with betrayal and hurt in relationships and friendships, but I have always taken it hard. I struggle with social interactions, and I try so hard to be a good friend, so to be taken advantage of or used in these ways really hurts.

As an adult, I have just closed myself off from situations that can hurt me as much as possible. I don’t have many friends. I don’t interact outside of places where I know the roles of each person so I can protect myself. I keep myself small, trying to not be annoying or self absorbed.

This has been a struggle at the theatre where I’m expected to be a leader and I have to let people into my space, trusting them to take care of it. I have worked so hard over the last nine years to get to a place where I know I can trust those who are there so I don’t have to be all the time. I have tried so hard to be open to ideas and to listen to peoples cares and concerns so they know that I want them to succeed and feel loved.

So when a perceived betrayal comes from there, it hurts all the more.

I say perceived not to lessen my feelings but to acknowledge that maybe others aren’t always out to get me. ;)

I am not sure why I felt the need to write all this out today. I haven’t been thinking about this especially, though there have been a couple instances lately that have me scratching my head trying to figure out what on earth went wrong… but I’m doing better at not dwelling and focusing on future improvements. But today, I also tried to write a poem about it! And I never do poetry. Ha.

Well. Maybe someone will read this who needs it.

what family can do

I worked too many Saturdays through the end of summer and into fall. I counted.

It is not something that I’m proud of, because now I say it like a badge of honor, but it actually is a war-wound.

But I counted! 11 Saturdays in a row from the end of July through September were spent at the theatre. Three or more (usually about six) hours at the theatre on any given Saturday.

It was too much.

I finally got my first real Saturday off the first weekend of October. General Conference. It was amazing. I am so grateful that I got to be with family.

Because family is everything. I missed them so much. Yes, we still saw each other, but with the cloud of work hanging over me, I didn’t appreciate the time as much as I should have and I really missed out on special moments that I could have taken advantage of.

This weekend, I went with my siblings, dad, and D&H to see a movie in SLC. A crazy day trip. And it was perfect. I had a blast and despite the crowded car and lots of sitting and a little bit of motion sickness, it was the most wonderful day.

It is amazing to me what family can do. Being with them, around them, grateful for them… my heart is so much lighter. So much lighter.

Family. They are my everything.

after primary

I have been playing the piano in primary for the last three years in my ward and it’s the only calling I ever want. But really. I love primary. I love music. This is the only place I want to be. It’s my favorite thing.

And what makes it even greater is that after primary is over, I walk next door to the temple and I walk the grounds. When the weather allows, I take off my shoes and stand in the grass and the sun-warmed concrete and just … sit. I try not to think or plan or worry. I just walk and let everything go.

It is one of my very favorite things in the week and one I’ve come to rely on as necessary to my mental health. 20 minutes to walk around and just be with Jesus and breathe.

not ok

I’m not ok. I can tell you when it started and when it got worse. I can tell you about all the triggers and the problems and the stresses and the mess I’m making because I can’t get it together.

I feel so broken.

It hasn’t been this bad- with an onset this dramatic- in a long time. My anxiety and depression are through the room, or floor I guess. Everything puts me on edge. I hate it and I feel guilty and that makes everything worse.

Today as I drove H to school, we saw a double-rainbow. A huge, bright, amazingly beautiful double-rainbow. It was completely unexpected, no rain, just a few clouds, and incredible.

It didn’t make everything ok. But I was reminded that everything WILL BE ok. Even though it’s not right now.

I thought about Noah on the ark and wondered how many days AFTER the sign of the rainbow he still had to sit on the boat, probably with ever-increasingly fidgety animals and people. He got a sign and knew it would be ok, that the day was coming, but it wasn’t yet.

And that helped me today. For a little while, anyway.

I will be ok. Everything will be ok. It will.

words

Words are interesting things.

They can be beautiful or ugly, uplift or tear down, helpful or harmful. Sometimes they can be both at once, or seem to be.

Words spoken out loud can be sarcastic or witty, inviting or repelling, laced with meaning or flat.

And the written word is sometimes worse!

I wrote a couple of short stories as a teenager that I shared with family, but one thing I always worried about was that the nuance and the meaning would be understood. That people would feel what I wanted them to feel. I never shared those stories with people outside my family because I wasn’t sure that my family would get it, and if they didn’t, how would a stranger with no understanding of me “get it”?

I am grateful for texting because it simplifies communication in a lot of ways. We don’t have to have a full phone conversation for one question or a quick clarification or even just to say “Hi, I’m thinking about you”. And typically the other person can respond at their convenience instead of disrupting a meeting or other aspect of their day with a phone call.

But texting can be hard to understand.

I consider myself an excellent reader. I like varieties of authors, books, writing-styles and can appreciate the difficulty of putting not just words to paper but ideas and themes and symbols.

Texting though seems to become a whole different ballgame. Emojis help- I can 🙄 after I say something that I want interpreted sarcastically, etc. But an emoji isn’t always a good thing to add.

How do we make sure the person’s words are taken in the way the person meant them and not in the way they are read and possibly misinterpreted by a tired/sad/overwhelmed brain?

Thinking about that today. And praying for wisdom to use my words well. I don’t share many of them (yay anxiety) so I need to take extra care that what I do share- both spoken and texted- is done well.

Superpower

Sometimes I think about superpowers. Which one I’d choose if I could. In my dreams, I often fly. But I’m terrified of heights, so maybe not.

Today, I thought about having a superpower that allowed people to see me. Really see ME. Not just labels of me: business owner, rule enforcer, question asker, etc etc.

Being religious, I believe that Christ does see me- the real me.

But I wondered how much of a difference it would make in my life to have the superpower to see people, or allow them to see me.

When I was in high school, we made masks of our faces- the outside we decorated to be what we showed the world and the inside to be what we were really like.

I’ve thought about that often since, and while I try to be true to myself and live authentically, I definitely have a mask.

If people could really see me, they’d see joy in my family and religion, of course. They’d see an extreme love of books and chocolate. But they’d see a lot of fear and loneliness. They’d see awful social anxiety, depression, uncertainty. There would be pain and disappointment. And maybe they’d see that I am trying.

I think about that sometimes. It’s commonly said that knowing someone’s heart invites compassion. Knowing their sorrow and suffering brings a willingness to share their burdens, patience, and kindness.

What if it could be to know that they really want to interact, but don’t know how. Would others be understanding?

Or seeing how someone is communicating and seeing their intent, would that prevent misunderstanding and blame?

I am not perfect. I am constantly working to grow and improve. I am a recovering people pleaser and have gotten worlds better at setting boundaries. I take lots of criticism. Often. From people I know and people I don’t. I try to accept it in the spirit it’s meant and with the intention it’s shared, but maybe...

maybe this superpower could mean understanding each other better. It would certainly make sure we could cut out the toxic people more easily and find those who truly care. Seeing people as they are would, I hope, raise empathy and create compassion.

I don’t have a superpower, but I can be kind and try to see people’s light. I can start there today.

about books

I am 15 books away from having 1000 books in my house. This includes Hannalyn's books, religious books and some "self-help" books but does not recipe books, gardening books, etc. 
That is also counting just BOOKS. I have several that contain multiple books in them (ie 5 books of "John Carter" in one book, a couple collections of Jane Austen's works in one book, etc), but they are counted as one on the bookshelf.

Which means that I'm actually well above 1000 taking into account all the collections/compilations or whatever you want to call them.

That's incredible.

It's also not everything that I've ever read. I don't own everything I've read. As an elementary school student, I read almost every single Babysitters Club book and Saddle Club book in those series. Not to mention the American Girls series, Dragonlance series, and several others that I never owned but just got from the library. Plus books I read in high school that I didn't own. In the last few years, I have read a lot digitally, too. It's not my preferred mode of reading, but hey! It works. And I've read some delightful books that way. But that takes up my count. I also read a few books in the last year that I didn't keep. I either returned them or got rid of them in some other way because they weren't ones I wanted to keep. Which I'm proud of myself for doing.

I've read a lot.

I'm a fast reader, I always have been. I love to read and one of the *great tragedies* of my life is that I can't read in the car because I get incredibly motion sick. (That's why I drive instead - I love to drive, so it's fine, and if I weren't driving I'd want to be reading, which I can't do, so I drive.) 

The last couple of years, though, I've started requesting books more specifically as gifts as I've worked to complete a couple of collections. Agatha Christie to start. I now own all of her books. (!!!) It's delightful. I've always asked for books, but recently been more deliberate about it as I've worked to build my library. For our anniversary, all I wanted was to go to a bookstore and get a couple of books. 

Also, I've noticed that I'm a better person when I'm reading a book. I just am! Even if it's just a re-read and just for five minutes at night before I go to bed, I am a better person. I love reading and escaping and it's so much better for me than anything else. Plus, it keeps me off my phone which is DEFINITELY a good thing. I am not a good person when I'm doom-scrolling. 

I learned this the hard way in December when I thought taking a break from reading would be good when I was very busy and I was a bit of a monster. As soon as I picked up a book I knew I'd be able to put down, my whole demeanor changed and I'm so grateful.

So! Yes. We are approaching this milestone. I used my tip money from working at Cold Stone the last 7 months to buy lots of books and I am so glad that I did. I have read more books this year than I am tall - which was a random goal suggested to me by a friend that I loved! - and I have been reading steadily. I am not reading all the time (even though it may look that way). I am healthily working and living my life. But I am happy and enjoying it with good things happening. That matters a lot.

Here's to fifteen more books... and more! I can't wait to see what they will be.

performing

We have six shows coming up this weekend. It's going to be a lot of busy-ness and a lot of fun. I am actually very excited. We need to get a lot more tickets sold, but if we can do that, we will be in a really good place. Plus the show is just good. It should be a good weekend.

And I will be spending a lot of it performing myself. Performing for parents, for patrons, for the cast... and even for my family, though hopefully less of that. I've gotten better recently at being honest at home and I think it has helped a lot. Even though sometimes it is harder to deal with the truth, it's better than the exhaustion and frustration of masking.

Even acknowledging that feels like a big step. So that's good news.

Here's to a full week.

anxious

 It is no secret that I am an anxious person. I do feel it has gotten worse since Hannalyn was hospitalized as a baby (PTSD is no joke) and then since 2020. It's part of life and some days I do better at coping than others - just as all do in all things. 

This week, though, has been particularly hard.

Daniel and Hannalyn have been gone for three days visiting family in Idaho. It's been so good for them - SO SO GOOD - and I am so glad they've been able to be there. And my anxiety has been through the roof. 

I am having a hard time socializing and carrying on a conversation. I don't want to look at or talk to anyone, but being alone elevates my heartrate and makes me jittery. I am filling my time with work and good things that need to be done, but I still have time where I've got nothing to do but sit and worry. I pray and feel peace that they will be fine and I will be fine and we will all be together again at the end of the week, but as soon as I hear or see something else I begin to immediately spiral again.

It's been hard. Really hard, if I'm being honest.

I think I've masked it ok, but I also think I hurt someone's feelings last night who wanted to talk and I just ... couldn't. I couldn't stay and talk and I had to run to my car and hurry home before panic took me. I need to apologize, but that makes me anxious all over again and ... anyway.

...

I think I've been anxious longer than even I realized. Obviously I have become more aware over the last couple of years, but even through that I have recognized that I think I've been this way even since childhood. 

I've always been incredibly organized - almost OCD - about my things and where they need to be and making sure that everything is lined up and set out and perfect and scheduled with no wiggle room. I think that was anxiety.

I've always been a good planner - and even though as I got older plans changed (colleges, jobs, where we live, etc), I have always had a plan and been planning for what could go wrong or change. I think I have been anxious.

I've always had day-mares (not day-dreams that are fun, but that are awful and scary and unnecessary but come in) and always just attributed it to my imagination. Now, that definitely has an impact as does whatever I've been reading or watching at the time, but I recently learned that is a "symptom" of anxiety.

And other things that have stood out to me recently. 

I don't know if this makes me feel better, but in some ways it does.  I've been strong enough to battle this my whole life, which means I can keep doing it. I am much better prepared and equipped now, too. I have skills and knowledge that I didn't have. Knowing that is a huge comfort when I feel myself slipping.

Mostly though, I'm thankful for Jesus and the times that I can feel peace and comfort. I cling to those and rely on those.

And I will try to not cling too tightly to Daniel and Hannalyn when they finally get home. <3

first theatre camp

 Every year, I do a workshop at my theatre called the "Triple Threat Workshop". It is where we work with kids for six hours a day (with an hour in the middle for lunch) on acting, singing and dancing - elements to become a Triple Threat on the stage. They do an hour in each class in the morning and in the afternoon and then perform at the end of the week. It is in intense and full week - we really push the kids to do difficult material and to learn and improve.

Well, this year I finally decided to let Hannalyn participate. She could have started doing the camps two years ago when she turned 8, but I knew that she wasn't ready. But this year, after lots of thinking and wondering and praying and talking with her about if she even wanted to do it, I put her in the class.

And it's been amazing.

Oh, we've had our moments. A few difficult spots where she wants a drink from my water bottle or wants me to fill up hers instead of her doing it, things like that. Moments where I want to be harder on her because I know her and see what's distracting it and want to fix it and have her be perfect. And moments where I let things go I probably wouldn't let go in other kids because she's my kid and I don't want to "pick on her". It's a constant back and forth in my brain.

But she has done awesome.

She is excited to practice. She has written a ton of notes. She loves singing the songs (to the point I made her close the door to her room so I wouldn't have to hear it). She is engaged in what is happening and interacting with the other kids (not entirely sure how successful she's been, but she's trying!) and talking and doing the activities and everything, It has been so cool to watch.

I am so proud. I am so grateful that the teachers I have this week are being so kind to and thoughtful of her. I am loving seeing her be so excited to be in this space and doing things.

I have no idea what will come next, if she will do a show, if she will want a break, etc etc. But for right now, I am loving being with her and having this experience together, watching her grow every day.

What a blessing.

dad turning 60

 just because i want to remember...

For my dad's 60th birthday, we did some fun stuff.

In his room, I put: 60 balloons, 60(ish) feet of streamers. 60 mini animal figurines, 60 glow sticks, and 60 cards (signed by my siblings and mom) each with a $1 bill inside. Also a party light. I thought about doing 60 m&ms or something like that, but decided not to. 

I also had each of my siblings make a video with 60 of something. So, I wrote a little story that was 60 words long and had Hannalyn read it, my brother did 60 knit stitches (is that how you'd say that?), my sister did 60 seconds of silence, my brother's kids counted to 60 and blew 60 kisses, my sister took 60 steps, my sister counted 60 skittles and then ate them, and my mom play 60 notes on the piano (including counting out how many notes are in "happy birthday" and making that part of what she played).

It was delightful.

I love my dad and I am so very grateful that we got to celebrate him yesterday. I think he had fun - he sent me a picture late at night of one of the animals he found hidden in his room, so that's a good sign I think.

I am so blessed to have this family and this life. <3

summer relief

 I have so glad that school is finally out.

I am grateful to have Hannalyn home and safe and all to myself. Well, mostly to myself. 

I am excited for adventures and warm weather. 

I am looking forward to creativity and fun.

I am optimistic that there will be good things to look forward to on the other side.

It's finally summer. <3

memory

 Memory is an interesting thing.

Memories can be sharp or dim. Full of noise or silent. Painful or healing. You can remember a sound, a sight, a smell, or just a feeling.

I always knew it was a tragedy when someone lost their memory. But, like most things in life, I didn't realize how truly awful it was until it happened to someone I love.

My grandpa (my dad's dad) has been losing his memory for several years. When they still lived in SLC, he would remember me, but not my husband or daughter. Or if he was reminded of my name, he could talk to me during a visit. Now, though, he usually pretends to know me because he sees my grandma interact with me. 

But he doesn't know who I am.

He doesn't remember holding me as a baby.

He doesn't remember playing the flute as I played the piano and teaching me about accompaniment.

He doesn't remember giving me that flute and helping me learn to play.

He doesn't remember making me cassettes full of Disney and Broadway and inspirational music.

He doesn't remember that I knew how to call him long-distance.

He doesn't remember fixing my aunt's bike for me so I could ride it ... and then encouraging me to go down the big hill by their house even though I was scared.

He doesn't remember coming to my plays or my graduation.

He doesn't remember carrying my wedding dress into the temple for me on my wedding day.

...

And it sucks.

It really really sucks.

Today, though. Today, I got a little bit of a miracle.

I went to the temple for a later session than the one I usually attend and as I was driving up, I saw my grandparents walking in. I was surprised and delighted to see them. I hurried in after them, helped them get into the elevator, and my grandma saved me a seat in the session. Sitting next to her was so fantastic. I haven't had that opportunity since I went through the temple for the very first time 13 years ago.

We got to talk in the Celestial room as we waited for my grandpa to come in, and maybe it's just because I was sitting next to my grandma, but as he walked over he said to someone standing nearby as he pointed to me, "that's our granddaughter". 

He did it again after I'd walked them down the hall to the elevator. He said to someone else waiting "this is our granddaughter". 

I wasn't sure I'd ever hear him say that again. 

It was a piece of heaven having it happen today.

sweat

 This is going to be embarrassing, but I keep feeling I should write it down. So here's to posterity I guess? And random ramblings on the internet.

*deep breath* 

I'm a sweater.

I always have been. Embarrassingly so. I sweat so much and ALL the time. When it's hot, when it's cold, when it's average. When I'm reading, when I'm working, when I'm playing the piano. It's the reason I wear a lot of dark colors. It's the reason I usually have a jacket or second layer on - I sweat through the first just sitting at my computer.

I've tried various deodorants and antiperspirants with no success. It's always been an issue - since I was a teenager - and I've always just silently dealt with it because I didn't know what else to do.

Finally, though, I can proudly say that I made it through a two-show day and didn't have any sweat marks on my shirt!!!!!!!!! x a million more !!!!

I found a deodorant that works marvelously and I love it. It smells good (a bonus) and works perfectly ( a surprise - a welcome one). I bought it from a Facebook ad, so my expectations were low, but it said "helps even cold sweaters" and that's me. So I figured why not and got a set and it's been amazing.

I'm convinced. I'm sold. I'll keep using it forever.

The end.

Such nonsense. But it's fun. :P

it hurts

 I need to put something here so I don't accidentally say it out loud and hurt someone's feelings.

... I thought that after 10 years of not having another baby I wouldn't mind hearing about other people being pregnant.

I was wrong.

It hurts every single time.

And it's stupid that it hurts. It's so dumb!

I WANT people to want babies. I want people to HAVE babies. I would never wish this wanting on anyone. Especially my friends and loved ones. I want them to have all the babies they could ever want and I want them to be so so happy and have the best experiences and love it. I want that for them so badly.

and

it hurts.

I know it's not personal. I know it's ok to feel this way. I know that God is in control and His plan is best.

and it hurts.

and it sucks that it hurts.

it sucks that I have to train my emotions - my face - my heart - to not break visibly every time someone shares their news. It sucks that I have to force a smile when really I want to sob. It sucks that people who don't want babies get to have them and I have to be happy for them because I can't show them how jealous and frustrated and ... wounded and tired I am.

It sucks that I can't talk about this with anyone. 

I mean, God. 

And Daniel ... but we have been ... kind of struggling on this point and it's hard to talk about. Not a big deal and we're fine, but it's ... tricky. For both of us. Which makes sense.

But really, I can't talk about it with my friends. They don't get it. Or they try to console me with how lucky I am to not have to worry about diapers and night feedings, how perfect my daughter is, how I can do what I want now.

And those things are true. And while I love my life and I wouldn't truly change anything about it because I've found peace and contentment...

it still hurts.

So. I'm putting this here instead of accidentally saying it out loud and hurting someone I love.

...

I'm ok. Just hurting. But it always passes.

And I truly do know how loved and blessed I am. And I wouldn't give up Hannalyn for any other baby or any other life. Ever.

So. 

...

manti

 Going to Manti for the temple open house was ... not quite like going home, but almost.

Manti wasn't ever "home" - I went to school in Ephraim. But for two years, I went once a week to the Manti temple to do baptisms and it made a profound impact on my life.

So when we got to go to the open house the first of April, the emotion and the memories were so fulfilling. And not just because we ate a TON of amazing food. Though we did that, too.

Yes, the line was ridiculously long and yes, we had to wait much longer than our reserved time which was frustrating. But the wait wasn't terrible - I think maybe we were being blessed with the Spirit. Hannalyn was easily distracted (despite being very tired) and we kept up good conversation. And honestly, I've had more miserable wait times in many other places for much shorter times. This one just felt different. It wasn't until we were almost near the doors that I got a little impatient because we were so close. Everything leading up to that though was kind of pleasant.

I loved being on the temple grounds and getting to stare up at the beautiful building for so long. I loved the memories and seeing a few people we know as they walked down the hill. And once we got inside... wow.

The only downside was that we didn't get to see the room we were sealed in. We saw one that looked just the same, only much smaller, but we didn't get to see OUR room. :) But man, walking through the baptistry! The coolest. The celestial room. Getting to see the assembly hall - now there was an amazing spirit there. I've never been in one in person and that was incredible. The Spirit was so tangible through the whole temple. It was incredibly beautiful and such an uplift to my spirit. 

I am so grateful we got to go and I can't wait to go back sometime. Hopefully sooner than later.

december or books and testimony

December 2023. Not my favorite. It actually started in November... and then things seemed to derail.

About mid-November, I started having panic attacks. I hadn't had one for quite a while, but in November, things got worse. I couldn't quite put my finger on what exactly was going on, though there were several factors that could have been to blame. Things at the theatre were tricky, things at home were not ideal, Hannalyn was having a hard time at school, and so on. 

In the midst of this came Thanksgiving and it was a balm and blessing. Three days where I refused to think or speak of the theatre. (I know, probably not actually the best coping strategy.) And then it felt like descending back into the pit to go back on Monday. Definitely not great.

On November 29, my aunt Stephanie passed away.

I was devastated. Not entirely surprised - she'd had a cancer diagnosis for three years - but things had been going well before suddenly turning for the worse. She went downhill incredibly rapidly and it was terrifying. I regretted all the things I didn't say, as happens when someone you love passes, and I sunk into a deep melancholy. Depression had me full force and it was a struggle to be able to do anything. My executive functioning just seemed to completely shut down. Everything was a struggle.

While fighting this, I decided that I would stop reading books. I didn't have anything new to read, I didn't want to buy anything with Christmas coming up, and I was busy anyway. Better to stop and focus on getting myself up and out of bed each day and eliminate one area of temptation to stay down.

Hannalyn's birthday was November 30 and she was incredibly sick. Not the celebration of her turning ten that we had hoped for at all. That added to everything else, increased difficulties at the theatre, and more just made for every day being a fight. More than once I told myself I needed to get back to therapy, but I told myself I could do that after the holidays.

I got to go to Stephanie's funeral, but I didn't get to stay as long as I wanted to. I still feel so guilty about that. I wanted to stay and talk to people, to spend time with family, but weather was bad and in order for me to make it to commitments and events the theatre was having, I had to leave. It was so frustrating and I admit that I was not happy to have to be somewhere else when I wanted to be with family.

Mid-December I realized it had been a while since I'd been to the temple. I'd been going fairly regularly, but with Hannalyn being sick and Thanksgiving and life happening, I hadn't been in about a month. I was able to find a time to go with Daniel - miracle of miracles - and on our way to the temple I realized my recommend was expired. 

It had expired in November.

I knew that, and had had the thought to renew it, but of course forgot. I had Daniel turn the car around and take me home, then he went. 

I immediately started working on getting in renewed, but didn't have much hope for anything happening because of the holidays the next week. And since the theatre was going to be in tech rehearsals, I didn't have any evening time to have an appointment set for meeting for the interview. I cried a lot. It was one more thing that was simply not fair and I couldn't figure out why everything was going wrong. 

At Steph's funeral, my cousin talked about her favorite books. I got all the titles and ordered the books. They started arriving and I started reading them and noticed an immediate change in my attitude. It is just a fact that I am a better person when I am reading a book. I'm on my phone less, I sleep more and sleep better, I process my emotions, and I am just happier in general and kinder around others. So, first lesson learned - always be reading a book, even rereads.

One night at the show, I decided I would just leave as soon as it finished and rush to see if anyone was available to do an interview for my temple recommend. I wasn't sure I'd make it, and I felt bad for not staying to clean, but I decided to just do it and so did. I left Daniel in charge of finishing up and I went as quickly as I could to the stake center. It took me a minute to find anyone, but I finally did and they said we could meet. 

As soon as I started answering interview questions, I literally felt "clouds of darkness" leaving my mind and a weight being lifted off my shoulders. I was amazed - and cried - at the immediate physical and emotional and mental difference. As I was handed my new recommend, the last of the darkness left and I felt better than I'd felt in weeks. I was still stressed and worried, I still had to deal with crappy things that made me frustrated, but I wasn't bowed down by it any more. 

I have a strong testimony of the temple - I've had incredible experiences that make it so clear to me that the temple is a holy place. But that moment of clarity brought home to me so strongly the importance of that little piece of paper. It's just a piece of paper, but like the garment that I wear physically every single day, that piece of paper represents a promise and a covenant. It is protection. Literal protection. Going without it for a month was crippling to me and my mental health. Getting it back was the greatest relief - deep and true and confirming of all things good.

I am still mourning. I still have regrets, and I am not where I think I should be. I am doing some personal work to improve and get back some confidence and building to be better after the trials of the last few months. 

But now I read books, and I laugh more. Now I go to the temple regularly, and I feel the protection of the divine.

Light always overcomes the darkness. 

Peter Pan Part 2

 We are doing 'Peter Pan' again.

We did it in 2020... got shut down... and performed it 4 weeks later as best we could.

I am thrilled to be doing it again. Daniel caught me out though and noticed that I've been more stressed and asked if it was because of trauma from last time.

I think he's right.

There is some remaining trauma. That this time won't be as good because we are taking our time. That we'll get shut down again. That things are going too smoothly. The lingering regrets over what we didn't get to do last time with so little time available to us.

Emotions and brains are interesting and tricky sometimes.

Even though I am stressed, and feeling some trauma responses, I am so excited to be able to do some more with this show. I am grateful to be able to perform for a full audience instead of the 30% capacity we had to hit last time. I am excited to actually spend time with the cast - not just two weeks before and tech week and performances with videos in between. I am loving digging into this story again.

We really are so blessed.

complaining

 No. I'm not going to complain. Well, kind of to complain about complaining. 

But let's start with a story.

When I was in junior high, I had a teacher one day who heard the lot of us complaining about something and got frustrated with us. Or maybe he just seemed to in order to teach us an awesome lesson. Either way, what he told us has stayed with me ever since (even if the details are fuzzy). Here is what he told us:

Complaining doesn't fix anything.

For a long time, there had been an intersection in our town that was very dangerous. One way was a highway with a speed limit of 45mph. It was on the way to the high school, though, and so of course many people sped and there were no other traffic calming areas for a long stretch of road. Crossing the road - the only spot in at least a mile of road - was a dangerous thing at the one intersection with only stop signs to keep anyone from traveling across the highway. It was a narrow intersection, too, with a canal on one side and limited visibility with lots of trees.

For years, people in the community and especially who lived in that neighborhood had complained about the danger of the intersection. Accidents were frequent and children liked to cross there to get to the canal, but parents worried about them being hit by a distracted and speeding driver (even before cell phones - does this date me? ha). But all the people did was complain about it. Neighbors heard about it, family heard about it, kids and community members heard about it - but nothing was ever done.

Until a boy was killed. 

And even then, adults just talked about how awful and tragic it was - blaming the city, the county, the drivers, the road, the situation, etc etc etc. Complaining that nothing was being done to improve it.

Finally, a girl just a year or two older than me and my classmates - and herself a sophomore in high school - decided to DO something about it.

It was simple really, she started a petition. She got HUNDREDS of signatures from people who lived in the area, kids at school, people she met at businesses . . . and then she took that petition to the City Council and stated her case. 

Within an incredibly short amount of time, there was a stoplight at that intersection.

I remember that stoplight being put up. I saw it happen.

And I had no idea it was because a peer of mine decided that, instead of complaining, she was going to take a simple action to fix a problem she saw.

The teacher wrapped up the story by talking to my classmates and me about how complaining doesn't make things better. It makes everyone upset and frustrated, it finds a million places to put the blame at someone's feet, it gets people riled up and grumpy, but it doesn't SOLVE anything.

But anyone can make a change. And instead of complaining, maybe we should be looking for solutions.

I am the first to admit that I complain. I do! But I have tried to make sure that WHEN I complain, I am using it to vent frustration (which is a needed thing and helpful to diffuse emotions) and not just doing it to blame or make others miserable with me. And when I'm finished venting - I stop. I don't sit in it. I don't dwell on it. Instead, I either move on with my life because there's nothing to fix and I just had a rough day OR I do something to make it better. I find a way to fix it.

I've seen this happen so many times in my life - the difference that is made when people complain vs when they actually decide to do something about a real issue.

I see it at the theatre - when cast members complain, they truly run the risk of jeopardizing a production. One person's negativity and complaining can bring down the whole group. But if they actually address a problem and get a solution - the whole group is elevated. And positivity becomes the defining feel instead of negativity and general grumpiness. 

Sometimes, there isn't an easy solution. That's where venting the frustrations of what is happening can be beneficial - at least we aren't taking out those feelings on those who don't deserve them. But once the steam has been released, we have to be willing to step forward and move out of the cloud. That doesn't mean it won't come back, but we don't have to live there.

When teaching school, when my kids would come to me with a complaint I would ask them what they wanted to do about it. Can you talk to the other kid and find a solution? Can we get a new piece of paper? Who is responsible for cleaning up the mess? What is the next step and an answer we can find to make it a better situation? I do the same in my business. When people come with a complaint, I ask them if they need to vent out some frustration and just talk through a situation or if they are coming with something that needs a solution. And if it's an issue that needs a solution - we find one. Feelings are never swept under the carpet and meanness is never tolerated. We find ways to make it better. 

Complaining doesn't help. So let's find solutions and make our world better. We deserve that. And we are more than capable of taking our situations and making them what we want them to be.

34

 Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me-ee! Happy birthday to me!

I struggle with my birthday. When I was little, I was like everyone else and dreamed and planned and was excited for months. Every day after August 20 (my half-birthday) was torturous waiting for it to come. I loved my birthday. I loved having a party. I loved playing games with friends. I loved presents. I loved a day all about me. 

That day all about me didn't happen often when you have a large family and you don't have money. McDonald's was our birthday dinner of choice because that was a big deal to us - being able to go out to eat at all. So I enjoyed it and felt so lucky and special on my birthday.

Then, sometime in the teen years, I had an encounter at my birthday party where a girl was crying. It was my party, so I was responsible to be a good hostess and was told to go find out what was wrong and the girl bitterly spat at me "it's not all about you". And something in that made my brain do a 180. From loving my birthday and looking forward to it, I dreaded it. I was worried others would see me as conceited and vain. I felt like an inconvenience and that people said "Happy Birthday" out of obligation.

That's stuck with me for 20 years now.

I still struggle. I don't put my birthday out there - not because I'm embarrassed or don't want to get old or don't want the attention - but because I don't want to be a burden. I don't others to feel obligated to love me. I don't want false praise. So you won't find my birthday on social media, I won't tell you when it's coming up, and I will probably shrug it off when someone asks "why didn't you say it was your birthday?" It has been safer to just let it pass.

But it's been lonely. And frustrating.

My favorite birthday was when I turned 20. A friend of mine learned my feelings about my birthday, but then found out when it was anyway. We were in a show together and it was a performance night and pre-show, he got the rest of the cast together to sing happy birthday into a tape recorder (wow does that date me or what?!). He then put that tape recorder into my dressing room with a vase of roses and a card. Everyone knew it was my birthday - I got several genuine birthday wishes and people smiling at me and being nice - but no one made a big deal about it. I didn't feel guilty or like a burden. I felt noticed and appreciated, and those who wanted to say more did! Those who didn't, didn't. It was wonderful. I got some special attention, but didn't feel like I was putting anyone out.

I am an introvert. Through and through. I would rather be at home and read a book. My social battery drains quickly. I don't like pretending to have fun and be energetic. 

But on my birthday, I want to be noticed. Not to have a huge balloon with my face on it, but I want people to say "happy birthday". I want them to send a message and just tell me they are thinking about me. I don't expect gifts or grand gestures, but I do want to know that I am not forgotten.

It's a hard distinction and one that people I love struggle with. "I don't need a gift" becomes "don't get me a gift" and then I'm sad because I wasn't thought of when really it's not the gift, but the thought that truly matters. I don't want fake or cheap flowers on my birthday. Those are rushed and hurried and last-minute and not for me. If you're going to get me something, make it something I would actually like.

This post was not meant to be a spot to complain.

I know I am so lucky. I have family and friends who love me. People really do reach out and let me know that they are thinking of me. They remind me that I am loved and not forgotten. They mean the world to me for taking just one minute to say just one thing. 

After the worst birthday ever just a few years ago, I have tried to do better at remembering that these people are the ones who matter. I have been able to have better birthdays with no expectations and just being grateful to be alive. I have spent time in prayer and been reminded that I am important to my God. 

So. Here's to a new year. One full of learning and growth, I'm sure. Hopefully some fun and laughter. And lots of books. ;) 

34. It hardly seems possible. But here we are. Living. <3

three years, new opening

Three years ago was the last time I was onstage in a production. I hadn't performed onstage at all since then until this last summer when I was specifically requested to perform at a benefit concert by the person we were doing the concert for. I would have refused, but since the whole concert was for this person, I felt I couldn't. Honestly, it was a good experience and one that I am grateful for even though the days and hours and minutes leading up to it were jam-packed with anxiety.

Tonight, we open "Emma" at the theatre and Daniel and I are once again playing opposite each other. I am grateful for that opportunity because I know too many times it doesn't happen that way.

I am also terrified. Three years ago, the show I was in was magical and a true delight and a wonderful experience inside the rehearsal room and on the stage. Off the stage and in the "real" world, however, people were cruel. It was very damaging to my emotional and mental health. I couldn't identify who my friends were. I felt lost and alone. There are a lot of reasons and things that happened that I haven't told anyone about because . . . it hurt. A lot. And even though my family tried to cheer me up - that's not how things work. It wasn't just ignoring what a couple people were saying, there were layers to the meanness and the insinuations and everything created a mental fog that I am still not entirely free of and that still scares me.

I have wanted to be part of this production for three years. (That was when I watched it for the first time.) I almost didn't get the chance because I almost didn't audition. I fought it hard and felt that I was being led away from it. I'm still not entirely sure why or how everything happened the way it did, but I am very grateful to have the chance to get to do this show when I've missed out on so many others the last few years. It's been so hard. So so hard. And so good and beautiful and fun. I've missed playing with people. 

So, here's to a new opening. One that I hope leads to a new season of learning and also love and happiness and hope.

<3

invited

 Way back in 2019, I wrote a post I called "please send the invite" (read it here). 

I've been thinking about invitations again a lot lately, and had some time to myself last night where I was able to sit down and ponder some feelings.

First, some history.

It is tradition, probably everywhere in the world, that on closing night of a theatrical production, the cast & crew will go out for a late celebratory meal.
In high school, they "went boozing". I never attended (though I was assured that no beer was ever actually present) because I had a strict curfew. The only after-strike party I attended was my junior year of high school, we went to JB's and I got to stay for about 30 minutes before my mom came to pick me up. I didn't have a phone to call her and ask stay later, and that was our pre-arranged time. So I sat in the booth and laughed and didn't order and went home.
In college, they made the 40-minute drive to the nearest Denny's and then came home late. I only went to one of those as well, even though I was involved in six productions in college, and I don't remember much about it except sleeping the whole way home and not feeling great about eating so much at midnight. Ha!
Our community theatre growing up didn't do a separate party - they would order pizza during strike. Part of that was just due to the fact that when your show starts at 8p and doesn't end til 11p, you're probably not done with strike until 2a and people aren't going out after that. Also, we didn't have a Denny's at the time, so everything was closed.

I've known for years that after productions at VT:L, cast & crew members would go and have fun after strike. I love that and I am so glad that people have such a good time together that they want to keep the feeling of the show for a couple more hours. However, I was never invited or told about it. I just heard about it after. And honestly, that didn't bother me because I have to stay later than everyone else to lock up anyway. Sometimes the next show is already coming in, and I supervise that. Sometimes I just have to hurry home to relieve my parents after they've been with Hannalyn for so long. And I love falling into bed after a satisfying strike. It feels so good.

Then last year, a girl approached me and asked why I never go with the cast to the after-party. I hemmed and hawed for a minute, and gave Hannalyn as my excuse before admitting that I'd never actually been invited to go. And I didn't want to intrude. My relationship with the cast & crew is different because of my role in the show as producer, I'm less involved and don't work one-on-one with everyone. The girl scoffed (yes, that word perfectly fits her reaction) and said that of course I was invited and then specifically invited me to the post-strike activities for that production. 

I felt . . . confused, honestly. And surprised. And after sitting in that for a bit, some gratitude started to creep in. 
I wasn't able to go, Hannalyn and Daniel were sick and I was needed at home, but I sincerely appreciated her and the specific invite just for me.

Since then, every time that girl has done a production (two or three more times), she has reached out to me individually either in person at the theatre or over text and asked me if I will be joining the group at Denny's. I am not sure that I can explain the feeling that comes every time she approaches me. It's happy and excited and flustered and bewildered and hopeful and... good.

Though, I admit that I still haven't ever gone. I always have some excuse - the next cast coming in, needing to stay to finish work, hurrying home to relieve babysitters, etc.

Someday I hope I'm brave enough to accept and go.

But man, in the meantime, that invitation means the world to me.

stream of consciousness

 I've been feeling the need to write again, though I've felt insecure in starting.

The past few years, when I've felt the need to write, I've done a post on social media and that has "scratched the itch" so to speak. 

But this time... there is a lot.

And it's not that I don't want people to read this, because I think that there is potential for inspiration from reading what others write (though I don't ever think of myself as inspirational), 
BUT
I'm not sure that there is enough cohesiveness for a concise social media post. (Not that social media has to be concise.)

Man. I get so bugged when I feel I have to clarify the clarifications of myself. :P I'm not sure why I do, honestly, but when I'm writing, I want to be clear. So.

Stream of consciousness it is. Even if it's confusing, or not inspiring, or just helps me get out some words. 

I need a release somewhere. This seems as good as anything else.

...

I haven't let myself really cry yet. I haven't had time. 

October was a beautiful month. So much fun, things went well in life and I felt optimistic and excited and good things. It wasn't perfect - I wanted to fight a couple of misconceptions about me, but didn't, and that was tricky to feel. But it was a wonderful month with adventures and peace.

Then November crashed into us. One thing after another seemed to happen from problems at the theatre, to issues at home, illness (on Hannalyn's birthday no less), unexpected worsening of my aunt's cancer diagnosis, a little hope as things seemed to get better, and then devastation at her loss. Then more sickness, and more busy-ness, and things happening at the theatre that just made me uncomfortable and had me questioning choices I make, which made me insecure and grumpy, and then more sickness again. 

Those three blissful days around Thanksgiving really were the bright spot in a whole month.
And three blissful days around Christmas.

And then sickness again (well, H was sick on Christmas but I was grateful we could still enjoy it, even if slower than usual), stress, feeling like I was falling short in multiple areas, very cruel attacks by satan on my emotional and mental health, and finally a new year... and nothing has stopped. One thing after another just seems to tip in domino row. We get "ok" and then something new, leading up to my cousin's death a couple days ago.

I want to write about my aunt and my cousin. My dad's sister and my dad's brother's youngest son. It's been a rough time for my grandma, especially because my grandpa's mind is basically gone and he cannot offer her support or even much of a listening ear. It's devastating. I want to write about them. It will happen soon.

A while back (aka 4 years ago HA), I wrote a post I called "Uncles" and I wrote about how much I love my uncles and how I know that any of them would do anything for me at any time. I truly have been so blessed. I had planned an "Aunts" post, but never got back to it. Now it's overdue.

Things I wish I had said, but didn't... people are right. It's hurts so much.

The other thing that hurts is feeling like I haven't been around for my family as much as I would have liked to. It's worse again being in a show right now - the guilt, especially around this death, is nearly overwhelming even though the show I am actively in does not actually impact my ability to be at the funeral. But the guilt is still there.

That's another story I need to write. Accepting this role came with a HUGE attack on me and I spent days in a fog, sick to my stomach, until I finally remembered that my temple recommend had expired. Then my despair at probably needing to wait for three weeks before doing anything about it because of my schedule at the theatre and the holidays, and the miraculous moment when I literally felt clouds of darkness being pushed from my mind and body as I made it very last minute into an interview and got my recommend renewed. It's a great story. ;) For another time...

Right now, I'm actually breathing a little easier and just feeling grateful for that. I meant to do much more complaining. Venting? Processing? Whatever the word is, I thought this would be a two-hour rant and so much more than anyone would ever want to read (including me). But actually, I'm already feeling a little better.

Still sad. 

Still hurt.

Still angry.

I'm angry that I probably won't be able to go to the funeral on Saturday. I haven't hired a "manager" at the theatre, because I do it. And because I honestly can't pay someone (heck, I can't pay myself) - at least not what I think they would want. And because who wants to work just six nights a month? That's such a weird schedule. But now it means that I have no backup, no plan, and it's impacting my ability to be with my family. 

Being a small business owner sucks. Sometimes.

So ... here I sit. Releasing all the words in my head into this small corner of the multi-internet-verse because I can't write it fast enough by hand and would end up scribbling it out in my haste. I can type much faster. I actually love that about myself. I love to write, and sometimes the physical writing is much more satisfying, but when I need the s p e e d . . . well. This is it. 

So if you're out there, reading this, thank you. I hope I haven't confused or bored you. I am not sure what you will have found in this word list that has kept you reading, but if you've made it this far, please know this:

God loves you. He truly does. And His peace is worth finding.

I pray you find it.