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My Abuser

I have gone back and forth for years about whether I ever wanted to share about my abuse in my blog. Today, while eating breakfast, it hit me, and I realized that I needed to. Not just for myself, but for anybody whom is currently going through what I am, or maybe is still being abused and doesn't know what to do about it.

My abuser, like most, was someone very close to me—a family member and someone I felt very connected to. However, the relationship was toxic, and was for my whole life. Only 3 and ½ years ago did I finally face my abuse, and my abuser, and end the relationship. The abuse was going on for over 21 years. And before it started with me, it happened with someone else—until that person realized she was being abused and got out of the situation—and then it transferred to me.

So much of what kept me from sharing my abuse story, is that sexual abuse, like mental illness, is still something that is taboo to talk about. But here we are.

To start, my sexual abuse was not all physical. To clarify beyond that, the abuse wasn't even physical molestation. My abuser molested me mentally and emotionally, by talking about my body, in teasing, joking, and praising my physical beauty—my breasts, my “voluptuous” shape, my sex appeal, and also about his body—how well-endowed he was, his sexual experiences, what turned him on, etc.

The physical touch only accompanied the verbal abuse—resting his hands on my waist/hips, rubbing and squeezing my things, and hugging me so tight that my breasts pressed hard against his chest. The last straw with the physical touch was at a family Thanksgiving party.

At every chance he got to hug me, I was sitting down, and he would slide his right hand, fingers spread, groping, all the way up my left thigh to my bottom. My husband, Jack, watched in horror as this person was grooming him to see how far he could push the limits without Jack intervening.

However, because this person was so loved and defended by me my whole life, Jack never reacted. Only after I was sobbing on the way home from the party and couldn't let Jack even put his hand on my shoulder to comfort me, did he tell me that I needed to tell this person how I felt.

The rest of the way home from the party in Perry, Ut to our home in Layton, half an hour away, I spent my time writing a letter over social media messenger to this person about how I felt. I told him how uncomfortable I was and about how I couldn't even let my husband touch me because I was so upset. My letter was met with an apology that I felt the way that I did, but that those were not his intentions and that he only ever had the purest intentions toward me.  

After this incident, I decided to speak to a therapist to help me figure out what to do. Especially where, not only was this family member sexually abusing me, but had started grooming my 3 year old daughter.

At parties or visits, he would take my beautiful, little blonde, blue eyed daughter away from the group so that he could be with her alone—whether it was in her room, outside, or another room in the house, he wanted to be alone with her, and felt entitled to be.

Not only this, but the dirty jokes and teasing about my body started coming out while my daughter was around. He doted on her. He gave her gifts. He praised her for everything she did. He posted pictures of her on social media of them spending time together and about how beautiful she was and about how they must be kindred spirits and must have known each other in the previous life, etc.. Anything that I ever posted about her on social media, he would go on and on about her to the point that several people reached out to me and my husband to be wary of the way he was acting toward our daughter and that it wasn't normal.

For awhile, when my daughter was about 18 months old, I went back to work and even let my abuser babysit her, even though I knew what he was capable of. I don't know why I trusted that he wouldn't do anything to her, but these narcissistic abusers are very capable of persuasion, making your fears about them seem petty, and even that you, yourself, are the one in the wrong. There's a word for that—it's called “gaslighting.”

I still beat myself up for letting my abuser tend my little daughter, and then just letting him be around her for as long as I did in general. I don't know if he ever touched her, and there have never been any indications, that I noticed, that she was ever abused. Regardless, I will still never forgive myself for letting him be alone with her.

Four months after the Thanksgiving incident, I finally wrote my abuser a letter to cut ties with him. Before you read on, be aware that it is somewhat graphic. I have edited to censor names.

March 11, 2018

It is with so much pain and sorrow that I begin this letter. I'm not even really sure where to start. After months of deliberation, the last two weeks of discussions with my therapist, making lists, soul searching, scripture study, prayer, and the last two days of an emotional breakdown of battling my strong answer given weeks ago from my Heavenly Father versus my natural, temporal emotions, I have come to the very difficult decision to ask you to no longer be a part of mine or my family's lives.

I never want to see you again. And it's not because I hate you. Lord, help me! It's because I love you so much! I love you unconditionally. And I know that if I saw you, all of the good times would come flooding back, and I would want to change my mind! But as much as I love you, I have to remember my first priority. And that is to my family. To my little girl and being her parent. Her protection is my responsibility.

After what happened this last Thanksgiving, among other things, all of the memories of you saying and doing inappropriate things started resurfacing in my mind. I decided that I really needed to talk to a therapist about it. I've talked to Jack and a couple of close friends about some of the things that you have done in the past and none of them have been able to understand why I keep seeing you and especially why I keep taking risks with [my daughter]. I think Jack has always just trusted my judgment and figured that I would keep [my daughter] safe and not let you and [my daughter] be alone together. But when he found out that you like to have “one on one” time with her as often as you do, that really worried him.

From an early age you exposed me to a lot of sexual information. You let me watch sex scenes on TV and in movies. You told me about the birds and the bees in graphic detail. Once, right after I sneezed when I was a little girl, you told me that sneezing was an eighth of an orgasm. You told me what the “get yourself a spin cycle” joke meant from the movie “The Great Outdoors” when I hadn't even asked what it meant. You told me a story of a lady who used to put peanut butter on her vagina and let her dog lick it off in her kitchen and one time her husband and all of their mutual friends walked in on her. 

You told me that you had the biggest penis of all of your brothers and then told me whom ranked next all the way down the line. You told me that I had a “gum drop” nose and when I didn't understand what you meant, you explained it to me that it meant it looked like the head of a penis. You showed me a container of something once, and told me that that was how big your penis was.

 When I was in the third grade, I tried on some new pants and you told me that my butt looked good in them and that all the boys in my class would like how good my butt looked in them. After puberty you talked about how I had a nice heart shaped butt, and big boobs like my mom. Since then, most of the inappropriate talk has been about my breasts and their size. How I'm a “poor girl” because I have my “mom's curse.” “Ample food supply for [my daughter],” etc..

 When I was about 16, [my sister] and I were changing in the blue room at Grandma's house, and [my brother] was being a punk and kept knocking on the door to bug us, but we kept shouting at him to tell him that we were changing, when all of a sudden someone barged in. We thought it was [my brother], but it was you. Later you said that you didn't see anything except for my butt and the side of my boob.

 You told Me and [my sister] that you “knew” that I shaved “downstairs” and that she didn't when we were teenagers. There are many other situations, but these are just a few of the examples off the top of my head.

 You have also touched/rubbed my thighs on many occasions. It used to really bother [my high school sweetheart] and now it really bothers Jack. I have asked you stop both the inappropriate talk and touch before and you haven't. Not only that, but you have switched the issue back onto me as if I am the one with a touching/privacy problem—that I am just a “private person.” 

I won't mention all of the other things that I have heard that have happened with [the person you abused before me], [my sister], and with [my brother] on the matter of sexual inappropriateness. This is not what this letter is about, however I think that they are some things that you should personally reflect on and try to repent for. 

Again, I love you unconditionally. I've obviously been able to overlook all of those things up until this point because we have continued to have a close relationship where we talk and visit each other on a regular basis. But what happened on Thanksgiving shook me to my core. Not only was your hand continually sliding up my thigh with every hug you gave me, but there was also the fact that Jack saw what was going on, noticed how upset that I was, but didn't feel like he could do anything about it because of how much I get after him about needing to be nice to you. I cried the whole way home, and couldn't let Jack touch me at all for the rest of the night.

 I will always remember the good times, I promise. I will remember watching Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings with you. I will remember our discussions about books and music and movies. I will remember the camping, hunting, and fishing trips. I will remember all of the special, little, nice things that you've done for me, [my daughter], and Jack.

 I will remember all of the choir concerts and programs that you've come to. Don't think for a second that I have forgotten all of these things! I have shed so many tears in coming to this decision. And I know you love [my daughter]. I know you love her so much. And I am so so sorry. But I am doing what I believe is best for her. Because you care about her so much, I know that you will understand me doing everything that I think is necessary to keep her safe. My heart is as heavy as I can ever remember it being right now.

I love you so much. And I always, always will.

McKell

My letter was met with anger--accusing me of being crazy and a liar. I was told that no one would believe me, that I knew what I was doing was wrong and that it would break my grandma's heart to know that I could do such a thing.

I took his response as confirmation that I was absolutely doing the right thing. Not only was my abuser a pedophile and a sexual pervert, but a narcissist as well. And even just getting out of a relationship with a narcissist is a healthy step in the right direction.

I meant to keep the situation quiet and continue to have relationships with the rest of my family members on that side of the family, but my abuser took the matter to as many family members as he could and tried to convince them of my insanity and dishonesty. It breaks my heart to say that very few believed me, and that most everyone took his side, and I was ostracized from my family. Does it hurt like hell? Yes. Do I regret it? No. I know with all my heart that I did the right thing. I know that I'm protecting myself and both my now 6 year old daughter, and my 2 year old daughter as well.

About 6 months to a year after I cut ties with my abuser, he got in trouble for child pornography. At that point, a few people who were on the fence about whether to believe me or not, decided to believe me. However, surprisingly, so many people still believed him over me, even though I had never done anything to make them think I would lie about something so serious, and he actually has a track record of dishonesty, laziness, and stealing, among other things.

If anyone who has read this is going through what I've gone through, I am so sorry and I feel for you. Keep going. Know that you're doing the best thing for you and that is perfectly alright. If anyone who has read this and is currently being abused, I urge you to get out of that toxic relationship/situation. It might be so hard, and even life altering, but you're life will be so much healthier. You will feel safer. You will be happier, I promise you.

McKell Hadlock

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Pretzels and Prejudice

It's been 40 minutes at the play place at the mall and I'm ready to go get my soft pretzel—my treat for having to come to the mall, pregnant, during busy Christmas-time shopping—and go home.. My four year old daughter has got her arms wrapped tightly around the midsection of the little girl who has been playing with her for the last 20 minutes, bawling that she doesn't want to leave her friends. She's getting louder and louder, and not wanting to cause anymore of a scene in front of the other parents who are already staring at us, I finally cave and pull the candy cane out of her coat pocket that Santa's helper gave her on the way in. I hold it up so she can see it. She lets go of her friend and says goodbye to her and the friend's younger sister through sniffles.

We get my daughters shoes back on while she's sucking on her treat, wait in line for 10 minutes at the pretzel store behind a picky lady, and then get our things and go. As I'm driving home, I think back on my daughter playing with her “friends” at the play place. I, being an introvert, quietly sat down and watched the BBC production of “Jane Eyre” on my phone, while my daughter, an extrovert, is running around asking all the little people there if they want to be her friend and play with her.

She runs up to one little girl about the same age as my daughter and asks, and the girl says, “no.” My daughter comes up to me, complaining that that girl doesn't want to play with her. So I tell her to go ask some other little kids. Most of the kids there are toddlers and want to do their own thing, but finally, one little girl, about seven or eight, seeing my daughters plight, asks my daughter if she wants to play with her. My daughter gets a big grin on her face and starts running as fast as she can, shouting, “Catch me!” Later on, after that little girl leaves, another family with three kids comes in, and my daughter starts playing with them. The oldest being about seven or eight like the other girl.

I continually look up from my show to keep an eye on my daughter, who is having the time of her life. I take note that the family that just came in is biracial—half Asian, half Caucasian. The little girl before was black. I didn't think anything else about it other than the fact that I noticed. As I was driving home though, I thought of how my daughter didn't even seem to notice the fact that the little kids she was playing with were different from her. They were just her “friends.”

These thoughts later led to a discussion with my husband. I brought up how our daughter didn't even notice ethnicity and how awesome that was. I felt proud of myself that even though I notice difference, I don't conjecture. Then I thought of my family and some of the racial slurs I heard as a child, growing up. I thought about how just recently, my grandmother, commented on my younger sisters two failed marriages, that, “at least she didn't marry a black guy.” Her second husband happened to be half Thai, but, “at least he wasn't black.” Even though he was clinically insane, “at least he wasn't black.” I remember I scoffed at this, and just to tease my grandma for her prejudice, told her that I had dated a black guy a couple of times. She looked at me reproachfully.

I remembered when my sister had dated a black guy too back when she was in jr. high school. She dated him for about a year, and I remember my dad having a really hard time with it. Once, he said, “if they ever have kids, their kids will get made fun of.” And I said, “Yeah! Maybe back in the 1950s!” He then said that their kids would get made fun of even nowadays because their kids could have “spots,” and he genuinely believed that. I backfired that people who are half and half have beautiful, chocolate colored skin, that I, myself, being as pale as pale can be with my English and Scottish roots, envied. Occasionally, the argument would resurface, but ultimately we kept our own opinions.

Another time, after being newly married, and going to college, I was in a class called, Language in U.S. Society.” One of our assignments was to let people listen to a list of pre-recorded people of different ethnicities, speak, and then our friends and family were supposed to make assumptions based on the subjects voices, dialects, dialogues, etc. One of my husband's family members was one of my test subjects, and upon hearing the voice of an accomplished black lady, they said, “I don't want to sound racist, but she doesn't sound very smart, because she's black.”

I'm proud of myself that even though I grew up the way I did, with racial jokes, slurs, and prejudices, I only “take note” of ethnicity without the prejudice. I wish that I didn't even notice ethnicity, but I feel grateful that that's as bad as it gets. I feel so much more grateful though, that because I recognize the damage that prejudice and racism can cause, I can fight that, and be the kind of mother that let's my daughter play and associate with whomever she wants, regardless of any differences that they may have to her, whom is a skinny, white, blonde-haired, and blue-eyed little beauty.

I am so thankful that God created such a variety of people all over the earth. That there are different colors, sizes, and cultures. How boring humanity would be if we were all the same. 

“No one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.” -Nelson Mandella

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Colorful Mormons

Colorful Mormons? What is she talking about? Oh no... Is she talking about gay people in the Church? Sigh.. Break out the Asprin.

Whether you know it or not, most likely, most of us have a friend, family member, or an acquaintance whom is homosexual—which you may or may not be comfortable with. And even if you are comfortable with it, most likely, you are still not comfortable talking about it with everyone at Church. 

Almost a year ago, a dear friend of mine and my husband's “came out” over Facebook on his 30th birthday. I'm proud to say that my reaction was a mixture of love and pride. However, if he had come out even just two and a half years ago, I honestly don't know how I would have reacted. Or if I even would have reacted at all.

Adam's journey to coming out, like most, was difficult. He learned at a young age that he was attracted to boys, but didn't know what to do with that information. Fortunately, he had a strong love and connection with his Heavenly Father and that has helped him through the hard times. And unlike too many homosexuals within the Church, Adam's announcement was met with so much love from family and friends. His bravery was the cherry-on-top of a year and a half journey of my own.

About two and a half years ago, my husband's best friend died after a long battle with a rare bone cancer. It wasn't until the day of the funeral that my husband and I learned that Dave was gay. At lunch, after the service, another one of our friends said, “You know Dave was gay, right?” I love the friend that told us, but I can't say that his timing was very tactful. Of course, I honestly don't know when the perfect time would have been anyway without it being Dave the one telling us, himself.

Not only did I have to come to terms with the death of someone whom I was very close to, but I also had to re-asses my feelings on homosexuality. To know someone so well and not to know something so crucial about them as their sexual orientation, is a difficult thing to face, especially as a member of the LDS Church, where the plan of salvation is all about the family: a husband and a wife—a man and a woman—and their children.

For the next six months, or so, I had a difficult time digesting the information. I already had to come to terms with my friend being dead and really wondering what life must be like for him on the other side—even just little ridiculous things like, how does he get around? Is he aware of the rest of us who are still alive? Is he happy? And then having to also digest him being gay without being able to talk to him about it!

For the first couple of months, I was horribly confused and heartbroken that he was gay. Why was he gay? He couldn't be! He was active in the Church! He was Jack's best friend! How did this happen?! But then something changed. One day, out of the blue, my heart cried for a different reason—Dave was gone, and I never had the chance to be there for him through, what must have been, the loneliest aspect of his life..

I had always considered myself pretty open and loving towards all, regardless of gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, mental health, etc. I didn't realize how much I could be affected by that kind of experience.

It was my loving husband whom opened my eyes. My sheltered husband whom had grown up in an LDS bubble in Centerville, Utah.

When I asked him if Dave being gay bothered him, he said, “It doesn't change anything. He was still my best friend.”

My experience with losing Dave has changed me, in one of the biggest ways I have ever changed in my life. Nearly one year after Dave died, I had the opportunity to participate in a community theater production of, “Arsenic and Old Lace.” After a handful of rehearsals, I found out that one of my closest working cast members was, openly, a lesbian, whom had been with her partner for 6 years. Her and her partner's anniversary happened to be the same as mine and Jack's wedding anniversary, and we had been together for the same amount of time. I was thrilled. I finally had the opportunity to test out all of the new insights I had gained in my journey to becoming a more loving, and empathetic individual in the homosexuality arena. Her name is Carla.  And she was and is so awesome! We became fast friends doing the play together! Carla came out of the closet when she was 28 years old. She has a strong testimony of the gospel, and visits with her visiting teachers regularly. 

Another friend of mine named, Tai was raised in the Church and learned that he was gay when he was a young boy. Unfortunately for Tai, he felt like an abomination growing up in the Church because of his sexual orientation, and his parents views on homosexuality. He became inactive at 14 years old and consistently struggled with his family after that, resulting in him leaving home at age 15. Tai is now married to another man and has a very happy, and successful life as a school teacher. He is still an inactive member of the Church, and it breaks my heart that he did not have a good support system from his family or members in his ward. For this reason, I hope and pray that more of us can be more accepting and compassionate towards those with same sex attraction, and to also remember that each individual is a beloved son or daughter of Heavenly Father regardless of whom they are.

A ward friend of mine has a brother who became inactive at 14 for the same reason as Tai. About ten years ago, he came out to his family. Their parents did not handle it well at first. After participating in drug use, and jail time, he found out that he had contracted HIV, but wasn't sure if it was through drugs or sexual activity. Fortunately, he was able to get to a good place, and his family was also able to accept him for who he is. They remembered that he was their son no matter what, a precious child of our Father in Heaven, and that they love him unconditionally. He has since received his Bachelor's Degree in Computer Science and now works for an IT company in Montana.

Adam is still an active member of the Church. In his social media post he wrote, “this does not change the relationship that I have with God.” With Adam's permission, I'm going to add his Facebook post here:

Ladies and Gents,

I am Gay. That’s right, I like dudes. For most of you this will not come as a shock. I decided as my 30th Birthday present to myself that I was going to be completely honest with everyone about who I am as a human being. In recent years I have told my close friends, family and co-workers, each on an individual basis. The truth is I have spent a number of years living in the closet. My lease for that space is up. So from now on I am going to be a more authentic version of myself being out of the closet and proud of who I am. I want you to know this does not change the relationship that I have with God. As far back as I can remember I always knew something was different. For anyone who thinks it is a choice to have sexual feelings for men (being a man), let me tell you, its not. If I could have been born straight I’m sure my life would have been much easier. However those were not the cards I was dealt. This has been a long road filled with tears, heartache and pain that extends down the very depths of my soul, many times asking God to take this away from me. For many years I thought of my options; suppressing my internal nature and marrying a woman, living in the closet and being alone forever or even taking my life. I came to the realization that none of those were good options. I’d rather enjoy this wonderful life that I have been given. I will be the first to tell you, I do not have all the answers. All I know is that I am loved by my father in Heaven. Right now that’s all I need to know. I truly wish my life would have been different on so many levels, but it isn’t. So I am going to move on in the best way that I know how. I pray that nobody takes offense to this, and I hope that all of you will stay in my life, however that is up to you. If you cannot accept that, then know you will be greatly missed and I wish nothing for you but the best in your journey. I know that in life people come to us for a season and maybe that is the way it’s supposed to be. But know that I love each one of you.

Much Love,

-A.C.

I am grateful for what I have learned in the last two and a half years. I am so grateful that it is possible for our hearts to change and to grow. I might have missed an opportunity with Dave, but because of him, I know that I have changed for the better. Thank you, Dave. I love you, and I miss you. Jack loves you and misses you terribly. I look forward to the day that we will all meet again.

Thank you to everyone who was willing to share your names and stories for this blog post to spread awareness, hope, and understanding for gay and straight members of the Church alike. 

Yours truly,

McKell

“A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.” John 13:34

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Crazy Pants

Crazy. Looney. Nuts. Psycho. Wacky. Kooky. Insane. Bonkers. Mad. Batty. Barmy... ADHD. Bipolar. Borderline. Depressive. Anxious. Schizophrenic. Multiple Personality. Obsessive Compulsive. Disorder. Disorder. Disorder...

Fortunately over the last decade or two, mental illness is becoming less taboo. Less discriminated against. What at one point was defined as demonic possession, is now realized as Multiple Personality Disorder or Dissociative Personality Disorder. We still have a long way to go, but is it now, I would hope, safe to say that someone whom is plagued with a severe mental disorder is considered just as ill as someone with rheumatoid arthritis, or plantar fasciitis, or fibromyalgia.

All three of these conditions cause pain. One, two, or all of these may cause sleep problems, fatigue, weakness, and irritation. If you're familiar with mental illness, than you are aware that emotional pain, sleep problems, fatigue, weakness, and irritation, are also very common symptoms of mental health disorders.

About six months ago, I was diagnosed with Bipolar II/2 Disorder. Unlike Bipolar I Disorder, Bipolar II is less manic, more depressive—Hypomanic instead of Manic and less often. Severe Depression instead of Depression and more often. When first diagnosed, my initial thoughts were, “yeah, that makes sense,” but also, “thank goodness it wasn't something worse.” When I went to see the psychiatrist, I was hoping upon hope that I wasn't going to be diagnosed with a personality disorder like a couple of members of my family, and was dreading that it was going to be, Bipolar Disorder. Which at the time, I didn't realize has varying degrees. 

When I think Bipolar, I still think crazy. I still think of over the top, intense, rash, hysterical, etc.. I hate that I think that. And I know that I am not the only one that thinks that. The psychology of it is fascinating though, isn't it? When we can drop shame and prejudice against mental illness as an actual illness, the reasons for each individual disorder is quite compelling.

 I was also diagnosed with PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Aside from the fact that this disorder can be debilitating at times, I'm amazed at how much of an impact an event, or time period, in my case, my childhood, can have on a person's mind. Especially an adult person with a fully formed brain.

We all have basic vulnerabilities that can make us “act crazy” sometimes. Hunger, anger, loneliness, tiredness.. Think of how “crazy” a normal person can get when they're “hangry.” Now add a disorder. Our vulnerabilities lead to thoughts, which then invoke certain emotions, that lead to more thoughts, and invoke more emotions, until a behavior or an action is expressed. Hunger can lead to anger which can sometimes lead up to lashing out at someone. Is it so unreasonable then when a person with an added vulnerability might lash out, doing something that is not construed as normal behavior? Throwing a chair, punching a wall, yelling at their loved ones, turning inward and going silent?

 I have three major things that I deal with in my own mental illness. Two sides of hypomania and then the depression. When I'm happy hypomanic, I'm hyper, excitable, happy, and I like to tease. I become the life of the party. I am so much fun to be around. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that this was my favorite side of my disorder. Unfortunately, this type of hypomania can easily slip into irritable hypomania; when I've had enough fun, been somewhere too long, or I just started the day being irritable hypomanic. Mind you, these are my own terms of classification—happy and irritable hypomanic.

When I’m irritable hypomanic, the smallest things bother me much more than they would a normal person. The cashier at Walmart was snippy this last week and I acted like a pushover even though I was screaming on the inside. A day or two later, I had to cancel providing a meal for the missionaries that I had previously signed up for, but ended up out of town for, and when I called the man in charge of scheduling the day before the meal to cancel, he put me on a guilt trip, to which I again acted the pushover, but I felt the fire burning inside of me. A couple of days after that, a lady in my ward that I’m doing a kindness for, nitpicked at me about being on time and called me out for “running behind” previously on another kindness I had done for her. Upon reading her text message, my knuckles nearly collided with the passenger side dash in front of me. Irritable hypomania is the most difficult, frustrating, and embarrassing side of my mental disorder that I have to face on a semi-regular basis. I’m not proud of it. But it is a very real part of my life that I and my poor husband have to deal with. Along with that irritability comes horrible anxiety. Actually I'm pretty prone to anxiety in general. But it is especially bad in this case. To the point where, sometimes, all plans for that day have to be cancelled and I have to lock myself away and be isolated for awhile.

The third, and most frequent side of my mental illness is the depressive side.  My depression ranges in severity from simply a continuous somber mood and moving slightly slower than the rest of my peers on a regular, day to day basis, to the really bad days when I am nearly incapable of getting out of bed, nearly incapable of speech, nearly incapable of dry eyes, and entirely incapable of leaving my house. I say “nearly incapable” in most of these instances, because ultimately I am capable of getting out of bed, speech, and dry eyes, and the reasons are two beautiful blue eyes in the sweetest little face of the sweetest little three year old girl you've ever seen. Even my husband is incapable of getting me out of bed in most cases, except for the times when he has literally grabbed me by the ankles and dragged me out of bed. Seriously.. He has done this.

 I know that the topic of mental health is still something difficult for many people to talk openly about. Recently I posted something on social media about my current struggle with my irritable hypomania and how it is the most challenging of the three sides of Bipolar 2 to manage. Shortly after, I received a private message from a friend who had struggled with a bad case of post-partum depression, and it broke my heart to hear that she hadn't shared it with anyone except for her husband because of how worried she was that people would judge her harshly and talk badly about her behind her back.

I have so much faith that in general, people are kinder than that. That human beings, at our core, are more sympathetic and empathetic than we as individuals give each other credit for sometimes. I am really grateful that I have gained the confidence to be able to speak about my own mental illness publicly.

 As much of an advocate as I am of acceptance and love in all of our varying differences, obviously it is also important to be cautious and to keep ourselves and our families safe. I, myself, had to cut ties with a family member within the last month due to his harmful actions derived from his mental illness of narcissistic personality disorder. God wants us to love everyone, but sometimes we have to love some people at a distance.

Mental illness is very real. Unfortunately, it cannot be cured. Not right now, nor anytime in the near future anyway. But, thankfully, it can be treated. If you struggle with mental illness, it is not the end. There is therapy and medication available just as there is for rheumatoid arthritis, plantar fasciitis, and fibromyalgia. Most of us also have loved ones whom are willing to make the effort to understand and to listen to our difficulties. If you do not have faith in God, I encourage you to seek Him through prayer, and He will answer you if you seek Him humbly and diligently. His son not only atoned for our sins, but atoned and felt all of our pain and all of our sorrows. He knows you by name and is forever reaching out to you, waiting for you to reach back to Him.

For those of you whom do not suffer with your own mental health, but are the loved ones of those that do, I encourage you to soften your hearts to them. I know that they can be really frustrating sometimes and you can't wrap your mind around why they're acting the way that they do. It doesn't make any sense. But it does to them. That's just how they are and they don't know any different. Unless it's harmful to themselves or others, it shouldn't be too much of a concern. You might just have to deal with a little “weirdness.” 

If your mentally ill loved one needs a break and needs to be alone for a little while, let them. If you need a break sometimes and you start feeling like you're starting to go a little, dare I say, “crazy,” being around them, make sure that you take a break as well. There's also nothing wrong with non-mentally ill people seeking professional counseling. If anything, seeing a therapist might help you be able to understand and cope with the everyday challenges that you meet with your loved ones who struggle so much. 

It is my hope and prayer that as we journey further into the future, we, as the human race, will be able to better understand mental health issues, and address those that carry them, with more kindness and understanding than we have in the past.

Best regards,

McKell

“There will always be more blessings than burdens--even if some days it doesn’t seem so.” -Jeffrey R. Holland

[mormonmommyphilosopher-blog]

Temporally Terrified. Spiritually Sure.

August 10, 2010

I'm in the bride's dressing room in the Salt Lake City Temple, thinking, “If I really wanted to, I could still walk away from all of this”

After dating for six weeks, and being engaged for another six weeks, I was about to embark on the most important decision of, not only my entire life, but for all eternity. I had only just met Jack in April. And while we really hit it off, I about fainted out of fear when he told me that he was falling for me after we had been dating for two weeks.

To me, that was what other, naive Mormons did. That's not what someone who dated her first real boyfriend for three and a half years, and then long-distance dated someone else for a year and a half, did. To me, you played the field until you found someone that you connected with and then saw how it went. If it went well, you'd keep dating that person. And dating them. And dating them. Or you figured out that it wasn't working out, so you dropped it. You didn't just meet someone, have some chemistry, and then get married to that person 4 months later!

Jack was wonderful. He was brilliant, funny, kind, gentle.. He was more than what I wanted in a man, and exactly what I needed. However, over the summer of 2010, I spent a lot of my free time battling with myself. Temporal reasoning versus Spiritual reasoning. I was the typical girl who wanted that passionate relationship. Head over heels in love. A grand and impressive love story to be able to tell our children and grandchildren. The romance story that everyone else wanted. And I had had that once already with my high school sweetheart, Andrew. But as teenage relationships grow into adult relationships, more often than not, the technical change into adulthood brings a multitude of other emotional and mental changes along with it.

But I wanted to have that passion again, even if it wasn’t necessarily with my high school boyfriend. And as much as there was a definite spark between Jack and I, I was still terrified at how fast things were moving between us. My love and admiration was undeniably growing throughout that summer with its fateful end. But, also, was the realization that I could never try at my relationship with Andrew again, or the one with the long distance boyfriend who lived in Texas whom I had really grown to love as well. And I think that is what honestly scared me the most. I could never go back to either of them.

Now that I have spent the last two paragraphs explaining the “Temporally Terrifying,” it is time to express the “Spiritually Sure” portion of this argument. Over that same summer, I would pray furiously over the situation, time and time again, expressing my fears and asking what I should do. And time and time again, I asked if I should marry this man that I hardly knew, the answer was always instant, and as clear as if it had been spoken to me, “Yes. You need to marry this man. This is right.”

Seven years, and one beautiful, little, nearly-three-year-old daughter later, I can safely say without, any hesitation whatsoever, that I needed to marry this man, and that it was right. I fell deeply in love with Jack. And for what we lacked in time before our marriage, we made up for over and over again in the four wonderful years in building a sturdy foundation for our children to come. And when our little girl, Avery, came into the world on December 3, 2014, the love that we had for each other as husband and wife grew so much more than words can ever explain.

While Jack and I are years passed that early honeymoon phase in our marriage, we have become best friends, and true companions. We are a team. He is my other half. Without him in my life I could not function. He is my rock. And our love has evolved into something so much more than that brief, passionate, romantic stage, that we are so familiar with in film and television series. I only wish that more people, instead of getting frustrated that their marriages aren't as “exciting” as they used to be, could only embrace the growth and companionship gained in a genuinely, loving, long-term relationship. But I digress. 

My example of spiritual surety is a large one. But the point that I want to make, is, as odd as it may sound, that it seems to always especially remind me that our Father in Heaven is very aware of each of us individually when the answers that I, myself get to prayers are the opposite of what I was hoping for. To me, it means that they are real answers. Not just answers that we have convinced ourselves of to be just because we really want them to be. Whether it is deciding which college you want to go to, whether or not you should audition for that play that you really want to try out for, whether it's a question of any possible choice in life, it can be surprising, and even be a little more than frustrating when you get the opposite answer of what you were hoping to receive. And if you're anything like me, you keep asking anyway, even if the same exact answer is being felt in your bones repeatedly!

I hope and pray that all of us can be a little more capable of heeding the Spirit, and choosing the road that the Lord would have us choose. And not just in order to make Him happy, but to be able to reach plenty of happiness of our own. Because, believe it or not, that is what He wants for us--to be happy. After all,

“Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.″ 

2 Nephi:2:25                                                                   

Yours truly,

McKell

[mormonmommyphilosopher-blog]

Crevolution

Evolution is fact. There is endless evidence to Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. However, is there not also endless evidence of a divine being?  Does not the perfect calculation to create living organisms of all kinds, lead us to the theory of divine creationism? If the universe were any different than it is, we would not be here, correct? How can creationism and evolutionary theory be mutually exclusive when both, together, are intrinsic in man’s search for truth and meaning?

In regard to thermodynamics, Sir Roger Penrose says that there would need to be specific timescales in the universe that would be long enough for there to be favorable conditions for evolution to even take place. The perfect calculation from thermodynamics to the exact ingredients of protons and electrons to create living organisms of all kinds, makes me wonder how so many of us do not believe in divine creation, or in intelligent design.

As a science writer concentrating on mathematics, physics, and cosmology, I have marveled myriad times about what to me is one of the greatest mysteries of all: how, within the immensely hot and dense “soup of particles” that constituted our universe, a fraction of a second after the Big Bang, the quarks suddenly gathered in threes: two “ups” and a “down” to form protons and two “downs” and an “up” to form neutrons. How was it ever possible…that the charges of these quarks turned out to be exactly 2/3 for an “up” and -1/3 for a “down” with not even the tiniest of tiny errors, so that the proton would miraculously match the opposite charge of the electron (-1) and the neutron’s charge would be precisely zero: just what is necessary to form atoms and molecules? How did such an incredibly improbable event ever happen without some calculated act of creation? And further, how did the masses of the elementary particles turn out to have the perfectly precise ratios needed so that our world of atoms and molecules could exist at all? How did the forces of nature, gravity, electromagnetism, and the weak and strong nuclear forces acting inside nuclei, as well as the mysterious dark energy that permeates space receive just the right strengths they need to maintain a universe that has the required stability and neither collapses onto itself nor explodes before life has a chance to evolve? It is hard to imagine all this happening just by chance. -Roger Penrose in, “Why Science Does Not Disprove God,”by Amir Aczel  

“And there stood one among them that was like unto God, and he said unto those who were with him: We will go down, for there is space there, and we will take of these materials, and we will make an earth whereon these may dwell…” Abraham 3:24, King James Bible

Based on strictly an anthropological view, evolution is not goal-oriented. But I would argue, is it not? In reference to creationism, evolution is definitely goal-oriented. Without a doubt, evolution continues on. Evolution began, evolution continues. In regard to creationism and to humans being created in God’s image though, it seems that there would be some goal orientation. If I may be so haughty, I personally believe that Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens are the evolved image that God had planned. 

Spirituality is in our nature. Throughout the centuries, human beings have created art and stories, that lead back to God/Gods. Venus statues, cave art, Egyptian art, symbols, the Bible, The Quran, The Book of Mormon, and so on, show our fundamental connection with a higher purpose and a higher being. But not only in the last thousands of years have hominids shown signs of a belief in something higher than themselves. The earliest Homo-Sapiens began cave painting and there is evidence of the species Homo-Sapiens-Neandertalensis participating in funeral ceremonies. 

However, that is not to say that present Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens evolved from Neandertals. Recent evidence shows that what we call “Neaderthals” lived parallel lives to Human beings for a time.. Here’s a little picture to explain..

                               Homo-Sapiens-Neandertalensis—————-

Homo-Sapiens——[

                               Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens (us)——————————————

Evidence also shows that some of us, today, actually have Homo-Sapiens-Neandertalensis ancestry! My aunt just found out by sending her blood into a research lab called, “23 and Me,” that in her genetic makeup, she has 315 Neanderthal variants within her genome!

Now, before any of you fellow Christians, say, “Yeah right!” if you really think about it–and do your research–with the exception of more robust bodies, larger craniums, and smaller brains, Nearderthals were not so different from early human beings. Not just hypothetically, but evidently, it is really not impossible that some early Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens mated with Homo Sapiens Neandertalensis. 

While you’re chewing on that challenge, Christians, I’m going to shift a little to a challenge for Scientists..

“Facts based upon verifiable and verified observations form the basis of science. They are the building blocks of science, and there are no other. Failure to recognize facts as the only foundation of science is the cause of most controversies…between science and religion.”-John A. Widstoe

Also, “The glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth.”  Doctrine and Covenants 93:36

Many scientists believe that God and science cannot coexist, but the whole point and value of science is keeping a constantly open mind about possibilities, is it not? To say that God and science cannot coexist is like saying that there is a definite, and specific center of fact that we absolutely have to rely on, without acknowledging the fact that that very center is arbitrary!

My hopes with writing this blog, is to create question in both the minds of Christians, and Scientists alike. I would LOVE it if this blog could induce some of you to start an open (respectful) discussion on the topic!

Happy thinking!

Yours truly, 

McKell

“Science and spirituality are both integral parts of the human search for truth and meaning; they provide us possible paths of comprehending and appreciating the vast cosmos and our place in it.”

-Amir D. Aczel

[mormonmommyphilosopher-blog]

Introducing This Nut..

Welcome to mormonmommyphilosopher! 

For starters, I’m a Mormon, I’m a Mommy, and I’m a self-proclaimed philosopher (just in case you didn’t catch that in the title)! 

I graduated with an Associate of Arts degree in English Literature from Salt Lake Community College a year and a half ago. And although I have just recently received my degree, I started my generals and aspirations in medicine at Weber State University back in 2009, had a break when I got married in 2010, then shifted over to SLCC in 2011 where I spent the next 4 years (with a semester in there somewhere devoted to Phlebotomy at Davis Applied Technology College) studying English, Literature, Creative Writing, Critical thinking, and Philosophy (and all of those other pesky little generals that have nothing to do with your degree, like Geology 1010). 

I married my amazing husband, Jack in August 2010, and we were greeted by our beautiful little girl, Avery, in December 2014. 

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, or “Mormon Church.” I came into the Church when I was 18 years old, back in June of 2008-- hard on my luck, and in a very miserable part of my life--but that is a story for another blog post!

I am a stay-at-home-mom with a degree. And while I absolutely LOVE staying home with my daughter, like any guy or gal, I need an outlet to make me feel like I am being productive and contributing to the human race. My purpose in creating mormonmommyphilosopher, is to be able to share my many, many ideas (sometimes nonsensical) on life, motherhood, marriage, God, (and evolution (see blog post #2)) homosexuality, race, abortion, and so on, and to delve into all of the complicated, controversial topics that go into those things! I will also occasionally post poetry and prose..

I promise that my future blog posts will be much more interesting than this introductory post! But while I’m here, I may as well discuss the other aspects of “me.”

I was born in January 1990, in Brigham City, Utah, where I spent my childhood up until I moved with my mom and stepdad to Layton, Utah in 2002. I have a sister 2 and 1/2 years younger than me, a brother 6 years younger than me, and a stepsister 2 months younger than me. My parents were married from spring of 1989--sometime in 1997. My mother struggled with addiction to prescription medication and went into a rehabilitation center about a year before their divorce, where she met my stepdad. I was baptized into the LDS Church when I was 8 years old, but after my parents were divorced, they both stopped going to Church.

After my parents divorce, and a brief separation of my mom from her new boyfriend, my mother had a nervous breakdown and attempted to take the lives of my siblings and I, and herself. She was taken to a psych ward to recover, and I have long since forgiven her (although she still sorrowfully apologizes often). 

I was abused in every kind of way, in varying degrees, that a child can be abused by different members of my family. Three adults in particular, and one child whom had been previously abused herself. The abuse inflicted upon me as a child is a subject that is very difficult for me talk about. But while we’re on the topic for a sec, I’m going to leave a link here for child abuse awareness.. 

https://www.speakupnow.org/child-abuse-statistics-resources/?gclid=EAIaIQobChMI8LnNl4T71AIVgVd-Ch0bRwM8EAAYASAAEgIjevD_BwE

After living in Layton with my siblings, Mom, and Stepdad for 1 year, we moved to Sandy, Utah for about a year, and then another house in Sandy for about 2 months, to Draper, Utah for about a year, and then back to Layton for 2 years and another house in Layton for about 1 year. Was my stepdad in the military? No. Why are you asking? Haha. We moved a lot for financial reasons.. 

I had a difficult time making friends due to my previously shy nature, and once I had made them, I had to leave them to move somewhere else. On one account, when I was 13 years old, I started going to LDS Church Youth activities, and one of the friends I had in school and in a leadership position in the Church, spread horrible lies about me that were believed by her family and friends, destroying any faith in the Church that I had, and much of the faith that I had in people..              

Over the course of Junior High and High School, (and about a year and 1/2 afterward) in order to cope with mental illness and abuse at home, I dabbled in pills, marijuana, cutting myself, psyching myself into fainting spells and then having pretend seizures, spending time with boys that didn’t care about me (mostly after high school) and drinking alcohol. However, it was the alcohol that held me the most captive. 

Whilst in my high school years, I fell in love with a sweet, smart, stunning boy whom became my high school sweetheart. For a number of reasons, the biggest one of them being children growing into adults, we broke up. It was about a month after that and my high school graduation that I started coming back into the Church--at first for another boy, but then for myself. .

After awkwardly dating people inside and outside of the Church, (again, mostly with boys that didn’t really care about me) struggling with my drinking addiction, and having my heart broken another time or two, I decided to be done with dating, and instead, prepare for an LDS mission.

After going to a Mission Preparedness class for about 6 months, keeping myself clean and sober, attending Church more regularly, and seeking for the Lord more often and more fervently, a young man named, Jack came along and changed my life forever. We were married in the Salt Lake LDS Temple shortly after, and have now been married for 7 wonderful years, and are the parents of the cutest, little 2 and 1/2 year old girl ever!

Although I still struggle with mental illness--depression, anxiety, and O.C.D--I am so happy with my life! I have so many blessings, and so much to be grateful for!

Well thanks for reading! More interesting blog posts to come!

Yours truly,

McKell

I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately... I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life... And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived...

-Henry David Thoreau (concision from “Dead Poet’s Society”)