Love is a Choice: The Story About how I Spent 4 Years Deciding to Marry a Guy

Let me introduce my husband, Rhett. No one ever gets his name right, I have to spell it every time before they realize: OH! Rhett! Like Rhett Butler from Gone With the Wind, right? Right. He is thoughtful, kind, caring, a goofball, geek, amazing, and a myriad of other good things. He is the epitome of goodness. I often catch myself thinking, "what did I do to deserve him in my life?" Most of the time in a non-sarcastic manner. As good and great and wonderful as he is, it is true that he sometimes exasperates me. That's being married to a goofball.

For those of you who know me and Rhett, you may know that it took him years to convince me to marry him. For those who don't know, I'm not kidding. Bishops were surprised when they found out we had been dating for 3 years and and would ask me how I finally convinced him. Then I would surprise them even more by saying I didn't, he had to convince me. A lot of girls really want to get married, they practically beg for a ring. I didn't. I didn't want it. I was happy with how my life was going. I didn't need a ring. Sure, I knew it would be a nice thing to have one day, but I had this dream of being 30, having a Masters degree, and owning a house before getting married. Most people think I'm weird, but when you have a roommate as awesome as Monica, you won't want things to change. (A note to non-lds/utah friends who may be reading this: while 3 years isn't a super long time, please remember that premarital sex is off limits. This changes the way you date, especially within the culture that is Utah.)

Rhett and I started dating the week that I had sent off another boy on his 2 year, LDS mission. We had agreed that there would be no expectations, and that if I happened to be free when he returned home, we could try again. We had a pretty rocky relationship, but there was good chemistry between us, so I kept trying to make it work. I was pretty hung up on him for a long time. Oh teenage angsty hormones. I don't miss them. To be quite honest, I thought going on a date with Rhett wouldn't get serious, so it seemed pretty safe to go out with him. We kind of jumped into things faster than I normally moved in relationships, but it felt okay, so I let it go. Then I got comfortable.

For the next 2 years we dated and I liked it. I held myself back a lot, and didn't allow my emotions to get too involved because of the missionary. At least, that was my excuse. I wanted "closure" with that "relationship." Which was valid,  I'd be lying if I told you I didn't want to see where things might have gone with him, but that was then. The closer we got to those 2 years being up, the more I realized how bad of a relationship it really was. How Rhett was so many things that the missionary would never be. While part of me did hold back with Rhett because of the other guy, another big part of me held back because I wanted to be independent. The biggest part that held me back from moving forward with Rhett was fear.

I've heard it said that love is a choice. Rhett and I had very few bumps in our relationship. We dated mostly long distance, and when I would move home for the summer, I'd freak out that we wouldn't be able to handle a close distance relationship. We did. Then I'd move back to Ogden for school and freak out that we wouldn't be able to keep a long distance relationship going. We did that, too. Rhett probably put in most of the work for the first 2/3 of our relationship. I was setting us up to fail, because that was an easy escape route. The only problem was that I LIKED being with Rhett. When I was with him I felt good and happy and comfortable, and it was easy to be around him and to be myself. What really threw me off was how feeling good and happy and comfortable turned into love. I had always imagined love to be constant fireworks and endless energy. When I dated the first guy, there was a lot of that. People warned that fireworks burn out fast, and the low burning love is what lasts, but because of that chemistry between us, those fireworks didn't burn out for me during the time I dated him. So why wasn't it like that with Rhett? Love came gradually with him. There were times that I felt it strongly, like a big sparkling campfire, but mostly it was just kind of a background thing, keeping me warm rather than giving me a big show. I think that "warmth" is what made me so comfortable with Rhett.

We dated for 2 years, the missionary returned, and I did see him a few times. I still felt a chemistry/tension between us, but I couldn't hurt Rhett like that. Plus I knew that this guy wasn't going to change how he went about relationships, and I hated how he went about relationships, so I got over it and decided to put him behind me for good. This gave me permission to be more "serious" with Rhett. That was scary. What about my independence? Do I really love him? I mean, I did love him, but enough to marry him?? Am I okay with marrying a guy who is shorter than me? If I'm not does that make me shallow? When I was with him my hormones would rage and I could never get enough of him. When he was gone I loved texting him, and I thought about him a lot, but I was content to chill with my roommates and I didn't feel that I needed him. Should I even marry I guy that I feel like I don't constantly need in my life? They always say to marry the person you can't imagine living without. Well, I can imagine living alone just fine, so my family said to marry the person I don't want to imagine living without. That actually changed it for me. I liked having Rhett in my life. I also liked having Monica in my life. Oh the conflict.

After 2 1/2 years of dating with this low-burning feeling of love, I finally prayed about my future with him. I had prayed about it a lot before this point, but this is when I knew I needed to get serious about it, or let him go. I was afraid of breaking his heart, but I was afraid of what might happen if my only reason for staying with him was so I wouldn't break his heart. That is not a good way to start a marriage. Even my parents told me not to break his heart. They would support me in whatever I chose, but I needed to do it sooner rather than later because Rhett deserved better than being led on falsely. So I prayed and I prayed and I prayed. Monica and Emily (my amazing roommates) tried to help by lending listen ears and support, and offering insights of their own. I still could not come to a decision. Heavenly Father would not give me any sort of answer! I understood that I had to make the decision and act on it before receiving an answer, so I would say, "Okay, Heavenly Father, I've made up my mind. This is what I've chosen. Is that ok?" Haha still no response, go figure. I wasn't acting on anything. Then Emily told me to try praying for something different. Change my question so I could go down the path towards a decision. That's when I got my answer.

I remember it clearly: I was driving to school, saying my morning prayer in my car like I always did because I was always running late. It was spring, and the leaves weren't even budding on the trees yet. I still had to wear a coat out. I finally decided to ask as I pulled up to a stop sign, "Will I be happy if I marry Rhett?" Words came into my mind that I knew to be divine. My answer was placed in my head and my heart with perfect clarity. "There are others who may make you happy, but none will ever treat you as well as Rhett does." The decision was still in my lap, but this answer made it easier to know what may lay ahead. Did I want to go find someone else to make me happy? Or did I want the happiness of being treated like a queen my whole life?

After much meditation, I knew that by the way Rhett treated me, I would be happy still. The best part: I would have more joy in my life being with Rhett than I would anyone else, even if that someone else would make happier. Happy is an emotion, joy is a state of being. I also knew it wouldn't work unless I worked at it. I would not be the one to let this relationship fail. I already knew Rhett wasn't giving up on it, so it really was up to me at that point. I had to put in my share of work now, no more leaning on Rhett and letting him make it easy for me. That's how I knew we would work, because we were both willing to work. Love really is a choice. After that point, I finally let myself really start to feel in love with Rhett. I knew I loved him, but now I needed to choose to be in love with him. It came easily. There still weren't big fireworks, but there were more than I had felt in the beginning. What I really think happened was that some wood got thrown onto the coals of my heart so a real fire could start. (Forgive the cheesy metaphor, but it does make it easier to explain).

Marriage is a big decision, for the next 6 months we talked about it and prepared for it. Rhett went ring shopping, and I tried to hold on to my answers from God. The night we got engaged, I kind of knew it was coming. To be honest, by the end of the night I was starting to give up that he might actually propose, but we still had one more activity planned on our big date, so I waited. That last activity never happened. Instead he did propose. I remember that whole date thinking to myself, "Heavenly Father, I think Rhett is going to propose tonight. I am going to say yes because I know it will be good, however if it is not the right thing for me to do, DO NOT send any red flags. Please put up a wall so big that I run smack into it and can't go around, because that is the only way I will know this is wrong." That prayer was in my heart all day. When Rhett put that ring on my finger and I said yes, everything felt right. I felt good.

The engagement, like the relationship, was smooth. There was only one major bump where I felt sick to my stomach and really didn't know if I could go through with it. After talking to multiple people about it I decided to stick with my decision. I could back out later if I had to. Then my mom called me. She called to tell me that she had been talking to Nancy Jones, our neighbor. Nancy asked my mom how I was doing, and my mom shared my joy, as well as my concern. Then Nancy said, "Tell her not to give up. Tell her to remember what her heart told her at the beginning and to trust it." She proceeded to tell my mom how she almost cancelled her engagement to Max, her husband. I almost didn't believe the story. Nancy Jones? The most faithful, stalwart, and sure person I had ever met? I would have never guessed. That gave me strength to carry on. She was meant to talk to my mother that day.

Fast forward to the wedding day, about 1 year after our engagement. I don't know what other brides feel on their wedding day, but I was calm all morning. Well, most of the morning. My hairstylist took a little longer on my hair than I had planned for, so I had to rush my make up. Terrible, I know. We got to the temple and Rhett's whole family was already there. I just wanted to duck my head and get away from people for a bit, I come from a very excitable family, but too much excitement makes me uncomfortable, or maybe I'm just really introverted. Luckily I was taken into the back where Rhett and I had a few minutes alone. We didn't say much, just smiled at each other. All the papers were prepared, and I went ahead to the brides room where I could change and prepare for the ceremony. At this point I started feeling a bit more excited and nervous at the same time. As Rhett and I kneeled across the alter from one another, I had one more thought of fear come through me. Am I really sealing myself to you forever and ever? Oh my gosh, what am I doing? Then I remembered the answer I had received in my car a year and a half earlier, and with love, I said yes. I don't think I stopped smiling once during the rest of the wedding day.

Now here I sit, one year later, reflecting on what I felt those 4 years we were together before marriage. I remember my good friend Darcy had come to see me before the wedding. We went on a walk where we talked about all sorts of things, but the thing I remember most was her telling me how much she loved Max since they got married. She said every day her love for him grew more, and she couldn't even comprehend how. I was already feeling a little bit of that, so I thought I understood, and I suppose I did in my own way, but now I really get it. There are times when I look at Rhett and feel like my heart is literally about to explode out of my chest. Now I don't ever want to imagine my life without Rhett in it.

I say that if I had known that I could feel this happy and this in love with him from the beginning, I would have never delayed marrying him. However, I am happy I didn't know. If I knew that I would feel this much love a year into marriage, it wouldn't have been a choice. I wouldn't have proved to myself that I could work to make this relationship strong. When Rhett and I hit hard times ahead, we will be strong enough to weather them. I am grateful for that. Also, I'm grateful for the timing of it all, because I don't know how I could have finished nursing school if I had married him any earlier. Nursing school was the one thing I knew for sure in my life that I had to do, and I had to finish. God saw that, I know.

I have come to trust in God even more because of my marriage to Rhett. He told me that no one would ever treat me as well as Rhett would, and I know He was right. During this first year of marriage, my anxiety and depression got a little out of hand. Rhett was there to support me and love me with each step. Not once did he tell me to just, "try to be happier." Not once did he get frustrated with me for being a downer. He simply picked me back up each time I fell and let me cry on his shoulder. He worked to understand what I feel. He read articles and studies. He shows me pictures of dogs when I'm stressed, angry, or sad. He has been my best therapy. (*Note: Please don't replace medications with husbands, all forms of therapy must work together.)

So if you're ever worried that you're not feeling all the things the movies say you should be feeling when you fall in love, just remember, it really is a choice. And when you choose love, you will have so much more joy in that relationship. If you fall in love, you can fall out of love, but if you choose to be in love, you can choose to make it a stronger, better love.

Good News!

So after a year and a half of being out of school, I am finally going back to finish.

I often feel discouraged that it took me 6 years to get 2 associates degrees. One in general studies, one in Nursing. While all my other friends were graduating with their Bachelors, I was just starting the nursing program. It made it easier that most of my classmates were in the exact same boat as me. That's just how it is in nursing. You apply and reapply to programs, and take classes and retake classes until you get in.

I have 2 associates degrees, and yet it took me longer than it would to get a bachelors in just about anything else. I wouldn't change my schooling for anything though. Being a nurse is my calling in life. This I know with every fiber of my being.

Today I had my intake interview with the enrollment counselor at Western Governors University. I have been accepted in the RN to MSN program to get my Masters of Science in Nursing Education. Just writing "RN" next to my name makes me so proud, but writing BSN or MSN next to my name just might make my head explode with joy.

In about one year they will award me a Bachelors degree, and I will from there continue straight on to my Masters degree.

I'M SO STOKED I CAN HARDLY STAND IT!!!

Just wanted to share the good news!

Mary, RN

I'm A Mormon (with a struggling testimony)

One of my friends, who has decided to leave the church, posted a poem on facebook the other day. It was a poem filmed on youtube by a guy who was sharing it as his story of why he left the church. He goes from being a missionary, to questioning things he'd never learned before, to becoming an "apologist," and then eventually leaving. The response to my friend's post was very positive, because most of them felt the exact same way. All were people who live in Utah, and have felt a discord in their life because of the church, and have ended up leaving. They were all happy to know they were not alone.

I'm not eloquent enough to write a poem, but I want to share my journey. It is a very similar journey to the ones that said facebookers have experienced, but the outcome is vastly different.

It mostly started when I was 17. It was the temple that bothered me most. And the polygamy. I couldn't come to grips with why a loving heavenly father would allow such an unfair policy. Men can be sealed to another woman if his first spouse passes on, but women only can be sealed to one man, no matter what. Polygamy was banned a long time ago, yet I saw that across dimensions, it is ever rampant. I was not okay with this. Is polygamy the reason we never hear about our heavenly mother? We have one, but do we have many? I watched a documentary around the same time about Brigham Young and his wives. It bothered me. It bothered me for a very long time.

Another thing that bothered me was who they would allow into the temple. An ex-boyfriend of mine was preparing to serve a mission, and would therefore be going through the temple. He made some lighthearted jokes about having the "golden ticket," which really just chapped my hide. I got in a bother and told him I thought he was too immature to receive his own endowment. He was a bit taken aback, I think. He stopped making the stupid jokes, and after he had gone through he asked me if I still thought he was too immature. Yes. Yes, I did think so. Again, he was taken aback (I think he was under the impression that going through the temple somehow suddenly made him better, smarter, and more mature...) I was at least grateful to see that he was trying harder to understand the importance of the endowment.

It was very conflicting, these angry thoughts about the temple, because at the same time I felt a very strong desire and need to go through for myself. I knew it wouldn't be at that time, but someday, I would go through. Not for a man to marry, not for a mission, but for me. For me and my relationship with God. How do you balance trying to go to a place that angers you to build a relationship with God? It's still hard. To this day I still have conflicting feelings when I am in the temple, though for different reasons now. I may explore these in another post. It angered me that immature idiots could go through when someone seeking a stronger relationship with God was denied for being too young, although I now understand the necessity of going through before your mission. Shout out here to my roommate Emily, who  years later told me that if she could have served a mission without going through the temple, she would have. She softened my heart towards the temple more than she knows.

Later in my journey I, too, became an "apologist." There was a perfectly good reason for all of this stuff to happen. Right?

...right?

Sometimes not.

What do you do when what you thought is now not what you think? I have a lot of ideas and opinions that may or may not be true, but I've found that many others feel the same way as I do. They believe in this gospel of Jesus Christ, but that doesn't stop them from thinking that perhaps Joseph Smith or Brigham Young weren't as great as we all make them out to be. Or that most of our prophets have been racist. And sexist. Oh the sexism within our churchy culture. (See my last post about my dad for why the sexism never bothered me until I was older. Thanks again, dad, for pushing me past the boundaries of male vs female and giving me the courage to do what I want as a person.)

So how do we deal with the discord that all of these things bring us? How do we deal with the internal conflict?

From here I can only give you my opinion, and my journey. This journey I am on is far from over, because I continue to question, and I continue to ponder, and I continue to have conflicting thoughts. At this point many would say: If it causes this much conflict, it must not be right, it must not be true. I don't believe that. If it causes this much conflict, yet I still have such a strong pull towards this gospel, something about it must be right. Right for me. This is where I need to be. Though you may find truth elsewhere.

I heard a thought from someone once, that God works with the best that he has. The best that he has here on earth is us. We are far from perfect. Church members and church leaders did stupid things, said stupid things, and were/are sometimes just stupid. They make mistakes, they have ridiculous opinions! You probably have a ridiculous opinion or two yourself. I'm sure I have many. It's what makes us unique, and human. That is why we are encouraged to pray about everything the leaders of our church say. If you've ever been told to go by blind faith, I'm sorry. While faith is a very important aspect of religion, you still need a personal confirmation to even follow in faith if answers are not going to be given at that time.

In my own life I prayed about things that I knew I would not get an answer to. I prayed about polygamy in the afterlife. God gave me a very specific answer that wasn't an actual answer. The words came into my mind, "I promise you, Mary, you will be happy," accompanied by a strong feeling of love. It wasn't a yes or no that I wanted, so it still took me years to come to terms with that answer, but now I have faith that I will be happy. Heaven would not be heaven if we were unhappy.

When the conflict in my heart starts to surface, I remember the things that I know. I know the Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ. I know Jesus Christ is the Savior of all mankind. I know God loves me. I know God loves me. I know God loves me. God will never hold me back from reaching my potential. I know the Holy Ghost can whisper truth to my heart. I know my prayers are heard. I know the priesthood is God's power here on earth. That is my foundation. I don't know about polygamy. I don't know about church leadership sometimes, but I do know they are trying. They are trying like I am trying. Trying to live, to worship God, to be a good person, to serve others and make them happy. We are all trying. That is all I need to keep me going while I find the answers to other questions. There are many questions, and I can only sort through a few at a time.

I sustain the first presidency and the quorum of the 12 apostles. Even when I question their words, I try to follow their counsel until I have my own answer. They are human, but they also have a lot of life experience and spiritual guidance to make them wise. I can't actually think of a time in my life that I have disagreed with their teachings after studying, pondering, and praying on their words.

A few other things I know: All religions hold truth. Can I tell you how much I adore Pope Francis? I follow his teachings closely, because he is a Godly man. Personal revelation is very real, and you don't have to be Mormon to receive it. I know Pope Francis receives revelation and promptings from the Holy Spirit to help lead his church. I just happen to believe that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints has more to offer me. I love my coworkers who are Catholic, Baptist, and otherwise, all of whom teach me about God in their lives.

I believe all people are innately good. We do not need religion to be good. Religion can only help us better our relationship with God, which in turn helps us to be better people. It is not, however, our reason for being good.

In the aforementioned poem, the poet describes how freeing it was to let go of religion and the conflict. While there have been times that sounds nice, overall I feel that I would be empty. Already with my personal conflicts crushing and rebuilding my testimony again and again, I have felt that emptiness. My testimony, my religion is a large part of who I am. Losing that made me feel that I was lost. When questions arise, I go back to what I know, and what I believe. Then I remember, this is for me. This is where I need to be. This is where God wants me. God is the reason I am a nurse. God is the reason that I am Mormon. God is the reason I married my best friend, and God is the reason I live in Chicago. God rocks.

Redditor u/isoperimetric stated much of my belief perfectly: "I stay because I believe that the church doctrine is true. There are a thousand things "wrong" with the church, things that make me as a 23 year old women feel unwelcome by a church run by 80 year old men. All of them however are cultural. At its bones, I think the church teaches beautifully about Christ, family, repentance and love. I truly believe in the loving God portrayed in the church. In fact my entire testimony hinges on the knowledge that there is a loving God. And as such, he must have given us modern day prophets, and eternal families, and the power of the priesthood. All of these are unique to the church.

So as much as I sometimes dislike the people in the church, the culture and how it is organized and run, I stay because I believe that this is where God is." My time in Chicago has made me see just how much the Mormon culture affects us in Utah. Things that seemed important in Utah now seem like distant thoughts. Yet seeing this new culture and new world has brought up many other questions, that I am excited to seek answers to.

There is no problem with questioning your beliefs. As long as you hold on to what you already know, the rest will come in time. If that means leaving religion behind, then do as you feel is right. For me, it means trudging on with questions in my heart, and seeking answers for my mind. Seeking answers usually brings more questions, but that's true with anything we study, be it religion, medicine, science, calculus, art, music... Which leads me to my final advice, which is what I've been saying this whole time: Question. Seek. Do. You need to do what you feel.

I often feel conflicting emotions about my friends who leave the church. I am sad that they are losing that part of themselves, because I know how hard it is to feel that emptiness. I am sad that they don't see what other blessings could come into their lives if they continued in the gospel. Sad that people judge them for leaving the church. Yet I'm happy they are following their hearts, I am happy they have found peace. Happy that they have learned much of what I have in their own journey. Happy because I know they are still being blessed for listening to their heart and trying to be good. My friends, you are not bad people, you are wholesome and wonderful. I love you all. Truly. Continue to question, to seek answers, and do as you feel. Continue to allow God into your life in whatever way fits your spirit best. For me, it's attending church, listening to the prophet and apostles, meditating, praying, following commandments in faith and in knowledge, and serving.

What is it for you?

***An after note: I don't know why women can't hold the priesthood, and I don't really feel like that is an issue I care about enough to bother with. I have a hard time wanting to attend church sometimes, but I know it's one of the best ways to keep my spirit in tune with the Lord. I need to find more ways to engage myself again... And last but not least, I'll share with you the scripture that has gotten me through all of this: Alma 32:27.
"But behold, if ye will awake and arouse your faculties, even to an experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even util ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words."

Feminism and My Dad

There are a few things that have eaten at me for a very long time. In order to understand where I'm coming from you must first understand: I'm a Mormon. This has played a huge part in how I view life and perceive the world around me, as well as myself. There are a million and one blog posts about modesty. While that has played a big role in shaping who I am, it's not what I'm going to discuss today. I won't share with you my (liberal) political views... yet. I'm going to take a minute and talk about something closer to home. Closer to me anyways.

I told you that Mormonism has shaped how I view myself. It is most of the reason I dress the way I do. It's why I don't drink alcohol, coffee, or tea. It's why I don't cuss. It's partly responsible for making me who I am today.

The Mormon Church has had some really great, strong women in its history (see: Eliza R. Snow), and even now we see wonderful, strong women (see: Sheri Dew). Around the 1950's the church also started to follow social trends, and that's where we see women's roles fading out. Before that point, women did a lot of things that we just don't do now in the church. While they have never held the priesthood, they used to be much more involved in blessings. I am grateful to my mother, though, as she taught me that "mother's blessings" can be just as powerful as a priesthood blessing if the occasion called. While she never laid her hands upon my head, I remember her holding both of my hands in hers, and saying a prayer with me, or for me. Praying for whatever it was I needed in that moment. It always worked, even if it was just to calm me down.

So what does any of this have to do with Feminism and/or my dad? I'm getting there, I promise. Essentially, I am a feminist. I am a feminist because I believe in equal rights for women. We are still lacking in equal pay and even still in equal treatment and representation. Especially within the Mormon Church. Am I demanding that I hold the priesthood? No. Equal does not mean the same. 2+2=4, but so does 1+3.

Before I continue with my thought process, I want to bear my testimony. While much of it has been shaken, broken, built and rebuilt, I hold on to the fundamental basics I do know. So far they have gotten me through when all other parts of my testimony fail me. I know there is a Heavenly Father (and a Heavenly Mother) who love each of us, and know us individually. I know that the only way back to them is through the atonement of Jesus Christ, and His plan of salvation. I know our gospel holds the fullest amount of truth to be had right now. While the church itself has a shady history, that is only because it is led by people. People are imperfect. We do the best we can, and God works with what we can give him. It makes sense that there are mistakes, screw ups, shady activities, etc. in the churches history. It is not the church that we follow, though. It is the gospel. The gospel is for all of us imperfect humans to learn to be better.

That being said, I have struggled with the way women are treated within the culture of the church. Modesty was never my issue, but now I see it was for many of my friends, and my heart breaks for them. My issue was with myself. With my self-worth. It has been implied to me on more than one occasion (and straight out said to me once as well) that it is the woman's job to make and raise babies. My mind went on a track from there. If that's all I'm good for, then it means my purpose in life/society is to make little boys who will contribute to society, and if I make little girls, I should instruct them on how to make little boys who will contribute to society... I wanted to pull my hair out!!! Surely making babies is not the only thing I'm good for?! Oh well, yes, of course you can have a job and do good, but children are the number one thing you will ever do. And you know what, maybe that's true, but you don't know that. Maybe I'll never have kids. My contribution to society had better be more than just popping out babies. *I* can do good! Not just my husband and sons.

I feel hurt when people tell me things like that. I kind of want to rub in their faces that I just happen to make more money than my husband. Does that technically make me the breadwinner? Hmmm... He doesn't care. Together, we are doing quite well. (I'll have to post more about how awesome he is later).

Now that the feminist rant is over, I can move on to talking about my amazing father. Not every girl is as lucky to have a father like mine. I feel bad for those girls. While my father expects that I will have children one day, it is rarely the topic of conversation. My entire life growing up, I was told that I was smart enough to do or be anything I wanted to. There was never a lack of support. I expressed interest in joining the air-force, and he had a recruiter come talk to me! When we would do math together after school, he would tell me that I should be an engineer, because female engineers are sorely needed, and I was smart enough to do it. He'd go on and on about how companies will wine and dine me to get me to work for them. I could ask for just about any salary I wanted. I could do anything.

When I finally decided I wanted to be a nurse, I wasn't sure what his reaction would be. Nursing is a typical female job. I wasn't stretching myself to the limits of outer-math. Yet he could not have been more proud of me. As soon as I expressed that was my desire, he told me how smart he thought nurses were, and he told me he was so proud of me for picking a career that would allow me to use my brain and reach my potential. He started looking into the different things nurses can do. Legal nursing, nurse practitioner, nurse anesthetist, and so on. That was before we even knew how hard nursing school actually was. How many times did I call him crying, and he continued to encourage me. One day when things got really bad, and I was having troubles with the higher-ups over the program, he told me something: "Nil illegitimo in desperandum carborundum." Obviously I was clueless, when I asked what the crap he was talking about because he knows I don't speak Latin, he chuckled and said, "Don't let the bastards get you down." Hearing my dad use a word like that was a bit shocking, but I realized something. He had been preparing me for this my whole life. He worked so hard to build me up, and make me know I was smart, that those "bastards" couldn't wear me down. I walked with my head a little higher the rest of that day (once the puffy eyes went away).

I have never once told someone I am "just a nurse." I have said that about being a CNA, because I knew that was not the end point for me. I will never be "just a nurse." Do not ever tell a nurse she or he is, "just a nurse." We became nurses with full knowledge that this will be our lives. Some people use nursing school as their step into med school, most go a chemistry or biology route. Going through nursing school is a longer route to get into med school. A few of my classmates were debating between nursing and PA school (Physician's Assistant). They chose nursing over PA for a reason. Typically that reason is the level and type of patient care. We are one-of-a-kind, and yet there's millions of us. In the old days of the church, the Relief Society sent women to medical school to become doctors, nurses, and midwives. When they came back, they taught others. Eliza Snow even served as Deseret Hospital's first president. Talk about powerful women.

So now I bring the question to mind, why. Why, when I was so encouraged by my father, and built up to know my potential, have I been so hurt by others who have implied that my potential lies elsewhere? Why do I have a hard time in the temple? I think I've narrowed it down. Submission. There is a huge undertone of submission. I realize it is overall submission to God, which I will whole-heartedly do, but because of the symbolism within the temple, I often feel emotions that are not congruent with how one should feel in a place of peace and serenity. People often take symbolism too literally, and by often I mean reallllly often. Thankfully, I have a father who realizes my worth as a human being. Who realizes that I can help everyone around me, and reach my potential in my field. If I was only a nurse the rest of my life and never accomplished another thing, he'd still be proud of me. However my father realized that I could do *everything* I wanted. If that includes being a mother as well as a nurse, as well as a successful teacher, or entrepreneur, or whatever, I could.

I can.

I will.

My potential does not lie with me being a woman, it lies with me as a person. That is how my father sees me. As a person. A person who just happens to be female, but who cares if she's female?! She's smart and talented! That is all she needs to get her to where she wants to go in life.

Am I a perfect person? Far from it. I feel that I needed to share what a great person my father is, though, so everyone knows that he sees people for who they are and what they can become. Too many of my friends have focused on getting married. Marriage is the next step in their life and it seems as if they can't be whole without it. While getting married is a good thing, it does not make you whole. Only you can do that. Go, reach your potential! I'm still far from mine, but I'm on the right track. I've reached as far as I can go for where I am at right now, and tomorrow is another day to go a little farther. I love my dad for making me feel smart and valuable, even when others have told me my value is in something else. Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do something. Go and change the world! Even if it's just one person's world.

For teaching me all of this and always having my back, I thank you, dad.

TL;DR - I'm a Mormon, I'm a feminist, I've been hurt by people saying I am only good for being a mother. I say screw them, I'm a nurse and I save lives. My dad is the reason I can believe in myself because he believes I can do anything and that I can change the world.

A picture I took of the Indianapolis, IN temple. The ordinances that take place inside are sacred and holy, and should be respected. Good work is done in there.

Part of Being a Nurse is...

I've been working in my new job since the end of March. It has been the biggest blessing in my life. In case you didn't already know, I LOVE being a nurse. I love how rewarding the job is, I love being around people who are just as interested in the human body as me, I love how caring my coworkers are, I love that my job keeps me active, and I could go on and on.

Don't get me wrong, for as much as I love my job, it's hard. It's hard work. I worry most days as I walk in that I might make a mistake. I don't want to mess up. I pray fervently that my nursing judgement will be sound before I start every shift. My back aches a lot. I see some pretty gruesome stuff. I can't fix everyone I help. My patience occasionally runs thin with the needy patients.

I got to experience doing CPR on a real person for the first time in my life. It was just a few weeks ago. It was also my patient. Thankfully we got her back. While I never really knew what CPR on a real person would be like for me, I found that all of my training and practice on mannequins paid off. I kept my cool. I found that the compression's were easy. I kept a pace. What came next was harder to deal with. I had to pass the patient off to an ICU nurse without really knowing why she stopped breathing. I had to explain what was going on with my patient to the doctor. I had to keep track of the labs we had to order STAT. I felt like I was scrambling. I just wanted to keep doing CPR, where my brain could zone out and I didn't have to answer to anyone, or worry why it happened, I could just work on fixing it. After it was all over and I was still second guessing myself, unsure of what happened, unsure what the doctor thought of me. Calling the family to inform them is always a very daunting task. The only thing that kept me going the rest of that night was that no one (namely: my supervisor) was mad at me. It was part of the job. Rather than berate me for not watching after my patient better, they just told me I did well and moved on with the night. A nurse I had never met before told me I had done wonderfully, and that she could tell I was going to be a very good nurse as I continue in the field. She told me how amazed she was that I kept my cool, especially being such a new nurse. I nearly cried. Really, all I could do was smile at her.

I prayed before my next shift that there wouldn't be any more codes. I can't handle another patient of mine coding. (For the non-medical readers, a code is short for a "code blue" which means a heart has stopped, a patient has stopped breathing, or both). So far my prayers have been answered. I know one day there will be another code. I may not be so lucky as to get my patient back next time. Until then, I'm grateful to my coworkers. They all take care of me. Nurses are family. I learned that. The night I did CPR was the night that cemented the fact in my mind. Every single one of them was there to help me. Not one of them talked down to me. As nurses, we eat together, support each other, help each other, celebrate holidays together, play together, and laugh together. I've also seen them talk behind one another's backs, get mad at each other, disagree, and banter. Seems like a normal family to me.

So here's to my family. Not by blood, but by bond. Though we share bonds through other peoples blood sometimes... (I made a joke). To the people in my life that I look up to and seek advice from. The people I'm unafraid to ask my questions. The people who share their food with me with no thought of exchange. My nursing family.

Mary, RN

(The amount of pride that I have when I sign "RN" next to my name should be banned. Dang, I worked hard for those two letters, though.)

Acronyms Imapcting my Life, Part 2 (ADD)

***This is a very long post about a very personal battle. There is a TL;DR at the end.

During my last year of nursing school, I finally took some time to really fix some of the problems in my life. I saw a counselor, well, more than one, I saw a chiropractor (though that wasn't super new), and I saw a doctor. I learned a lot about myself and suddenly a lot of things started to make sense in my life. However, this also meant that I had some new things to deal with.

After seeing 3 different counselors and taking a myriad of "tests," I was diagnosed with ADHD - Inattentive type. Which is basically saying, ADD. However the more we learn about psychology, the more we don't understand. ADD is no longer the going phrase, and there are now 7 types of ADHD. These include hyperactive type, inattentive type, hyper-focus type, combination type, etc.

The thing about this particular disorder is that it varies so much from person to person. I was a very hard case for these 3 counselors to diagnose because I was given tests for ADHD. I am anything but hyperactive, so my scores were always very borderline. To be honest, I had always wondered if I had something like this from a fairly young age. I was putting in 3 times as much work as my friends whom I considered to be on the same intelligence level as myself. I couldn't understand why. No, smart people don't have learning disabilities, and I'm smart. The stigma that surrounds ADD and ADHD is quite horrible. Being diagnosed as an adult, I've learned a lot about that.

There are certain chemicals in every persons brain. Many of you have heard of things like dopamine, and serotonin. These are neurotransmitters. Sometimes people don't produce enough, sometimes they produce too much, sometimes they don't stay in the synaptic cleft very long. Chemical balance is a very delicate thing in our bodies. While two people may have the same diagnosis of ADHD, or Depression, or OCD, or Bipolar, they will more than likely show it differently. Or on the other hand, there may be two totally different diagnoses but the same neurotransmitter is causing the problem. Why? Chemical balance. Our chemicals will affect each of us differently. On top of which, we have each been raised to think and be a certain way, we have different reactions to things in our external environment. Can technology cause ADD in some people? I'm sure of it. It might not all be chemicals. It can be conditioning. Some people will respond great to a complete diet and lifestyle change, others will have to rely on medication and therapy. Whatever works, I won't judge. I've learned that I can't.

So after a 2 hour examination full of questions about anxiety levels, OCD tendencies, dietary habits, tobacco and alcohol intake, feelings of depression, whether or not I hear voices, etc. I was diagnosed with a definite "ADHD - Inattentive type." My mind was reeling. My friend had suspected this in me all along, it was at her recommendation that I saw counselors in the first place, to help me focus on school and deal with it. She saw me become overwhelmed and depressed. She cared.

Of course I had questions, and I sat and talked to my therapist for awhile about it. He was very educational and kind about it. My therapist suspects I've had this since childhood. However because I was smart but not hyperactive, no one ever thought I might be struggling. It turns out many of my quirks and habits are coping mechanisms in my life to deal with my spacey brain. I zone out. I've done it while talking face to face with people, though I do it most often in group settings. It made it hard to listen to classroom lectures, it's hard to listen to lessons and talks in church. I am a very, very forgetful person. Suddenly, it all made sense.

I learned that my need for cleanliness and organization has been a direct result from my coping so I could complete my work. If things are out of place, I cannot focus on what is at hand. My need to write everything down in order to remember is also a coping mechanism. Sticky notes are my best friend. I have to have a monthly planner so I can see ahead what I have to do. I am a list maker. Most of my sticky notes are some sort of list. They're on my phone, too. While these are good habits for all people to have, they are a need in my life to keep things organized in my head. My roommates and my husband have seen me when my brain gets jumbled. It's not pretty. I can't function. I will just sit and cry, because sometimes it's all I can do. I wish I could describe my "brain jumble" better. It's like all thoughts come into my head at once and I can't pick one out. It's a massive train wreck of a million thoughts rolling up into one giant fiery ball. I can't hear myself think. I can't find where to start or end or what to talk about.

Poor time management is another side effect. It's also a very frustrating thing, and much of the reason I have to put in more work than my counterparts. However, it may just be a personality trait unrelated to ADD, but it's something I've always struggled with, and managing my ADD has helped me get a little better managing my time.

The signs that often come with ADHD/ADD are OCD tendencies and depression. At least, those are the signs that showed up for me. While they are common, to show up among many with this disorder, not all people will have them. The OCD tendencies I just described, list making, organization, cleanliness. These are things to help me focus. Depression comes with feeling overwhelmed so often. It wears me down. I become too tired to function well. I feel hopeless. I don't understand why I can't remember things. I don't understand why I can't focus. I don't understand why this project is taking twice as long as it should. I feel like I'll never be good enough. I want to give up. I want my brain to slow down sometimes. I want to keep thoughts in line with each other. I have lost my train of thought mid-sentence more than once. It's embarrassing. It then leads to the next thing that ADD can cause, anxiety. Much like the depression, the anxiety comes with pressure to perform. Although much of my anxiety is social anxiety, probably from feeling stupid when I can't keep up with the current conversation. That will be a whole other post, though.

I was put on medication. The difference it made in my life was astounding. It increased my general anxiety about things, but suddenly I was functional in social situations. I could keep eye contact during a conversation without thinking about it. I got overly chatty because the drug is a stimulant, but I learned quickly how to keep my chattiness in check. I was happier. I could be around people. I could focus on the task at hand. I could finish projects in a time frame that was possible. The best part was that I could knock off 9/10 things on my to do list. I am motivated! Even my family noticed I was a different and better person. Without the medication, I'm lucky to get 3 things done in a day. I would get too distracted, or depressed. Not finishing a to do list made me more depressed. It was a bad cycle. In normal ADD mode, I would never actually read this blog post. It's far too long. I won't be offended if no one else reads the whole thing, either. ADD or not.

The whole process of this has been a huge learning curve. I am grateful for it.

Since I've moved to Chicago, I've actually gone off my medication. At first it was because I didn't have a doctor to even prescribe it, now I do, and we've weaned me off of it. I do okay. When I wasn't working I didn't need it as much. Then I found that even though I've started my job, I don't need the amount of physical and mental energy that I did in nursing school, so I still do okay without it. Poor Rhett has to deal with my breakdowns. I've have pretty bad bouts of depression while being here, all of them in the first 4 or 5 months of living here. Looking back, it was a little scary. I wasn't in a good place. If I could stay busy I would have done better. However I didn't. It was hard to stay busy. The loneliness I felt when I first moved out here was overwhelming, but that's another story. We got a dog, which has helped immensely. I take fish oil, which helps the brain. I got a job, and that has been the greatest! Things are looking up. I have my days now, as we all do, but they're not bouts like I had before that would last for days at a time. Rhett has been a solid supporter, and even more importantly, he's been understanding, kind, and non judgmental. I couldn't have asked for a better companion to help me through all of this.

Just Mary thoughts.

TL;DR - I was diagnosed with ADHD - inattentive type (or ADD) as an adult, though it's suspected I've had it since childhood. It has caused depression, anxiety, and OCD tendencies. Social anxiety has been the worst. Medication helps, but I usually do okay without it, thankfully. It's been a learning curve. For details on how it's affected my life, read the above post. Or skim it. I don't care.

Acronyms Impacting My Life, Part 1 (PCOS)

***A personal post about a personal battle with hormones

I’m a pretty healthy person. I’ve always tried to be, but I was also blessed with pretty decent genetics. I grew tall, I’ve got good blood pressure and heart rate, I’ve been able to stay fit, I’ve got a good head of hair… I am grateful for these things.

In October of 2009 I had what is called a torsion of my left ovary. I cannot describe the pain. There was still a small amount of blood flow going to the ovary, so a torsion was ruled out at the time of my first ultrasound. I was told it was a kidney stone. Later I was told it was a tumor growing on my ovary. When I finally saw a specialist, the doctor told me I had a ruptured cyst, and that the pain would go away within another few days. He made me feel very bad for complaining about extreme pain because cysts rupture in women all the time. Yes, it’s painful, but essentially he told me to suck it up. When he performed the ultrasound, my mom noted my ovaries looked like “Swiss cheese.” The doc said those were all little cysts that would go away once I started menstruating.

That evening I was back in the office unable to even walk. The head doctor saw me and sent me straight in for surgery. Within 5 hours, my life returned to normal. I was even able to keep the ovary.

Going back even farther, in 2006 I started to notice dark hair on my neck and chin. I plucked them. Then I waxed them. By 2010 I was having laser hair removal done with no results, and later started electrolysis. It’s frustrating, having a beard. It was sometimes downright embarrassing.

In 2013 I finally saw a gynecologist in a non-emergent situation to talk about my very irregular periods. I never knew if I would start on day 32 or day 45. I never started early. My periods were never regular. So between “swiss cheese” ovaries, hirsutism (the medical diagnosis for excess hair on the body), irregular, spaced out periods, and after some bloodwork, I was diagnosed with PCOS. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome.

What’s that? Well, basically my ovaries are hyperactive. Not only am I producing way too much estrogen and progesterone, but I am also producing way too much testosterone and DHEAS (a testosterone precursor). My Luteinizing hormone levels were “unusually high,” meaning, much higher than even the high end of normal for a post-menopausal woman. A quick physiology lesson: Luteinizing hormone is responsible for ovulation. When it drops, the ovaries release an egg (ovulate), and from there it can implant or a period can begin.

What does this mean? PCOS messes with so many hormones, there are a lot of side effects. Hirsutism, type II diabetes due to insulin resistance, depression, difficulty losing weight, heart disease, heavy and painful periods, and infertility, to name the most common. I’ve learned to deal with the facial hair, belly hair, etc. that comes along with it. I don’t have insulin resistance, yet, thank goodness. I’ve been fairly fit my whole life, so it’ll just be something I have to watch, although I've always had a "pooch" around my stomach (moreso than what people say is normal for a girl to have). The "pooch" is actually a characteristic also known to happen with PCOS. Depression will be addressed at a later time, though it’s been mostly mild. My heart is still healthy. I’ve always had very light periods (which threw the gyno for a loop when first trying to diagnose me) but the only time they’ve ever been regular or predictable was after I started on birth control. As for the infertility, I have no clue. Some women with PCOS can get pregnant right away. Some need years of fertility treatments and in vitro procedures. Some never get pregnant. Miscarriage is not uncommon for those with PCOS, maintaining a pregnancy with wacky hormones is harder than maintaining a normal pregnancy. PCOS is the leading cause of infertility in women of childbearing age.

Since I started birth control, my hormone levels have dropped to normal. Birth control actually suppresses the ovaries in its hormone release because the ovaries no longer need to make the hormones. My periods are now regular, but the body hair won’t go away.

When I was diagnosed, I felt relieved more than anything. I finally had something that made sense. I understood why I grow extra hair, why my periods have a 2 week start window, etc. In a more recent ultrasound for my new doctor, the diagnosis was again confirmed. Many people know about my diagnosis, mostly family. Even more know my struggles with facial hair because after I became comfortable with me, I wanted to help others become comfortable with themselves. We can't always control our bodies, and body image is a struggle for many.

A couple of people have expressed concern over the fertility issue for me. To be honest, I don’t really care. That may sound weird, but I have a difficult time around kids. Babies make me uncomfortable. The plan is to eventually start our own family. Even before we were married though, Rhett had expressed a desire to adopt a child. I have always liked the idea of adoption, but never thought about it seriously for myself. The more I thought about it, the better I felt about it. It’s our plan now. We will one day adopt a child. I’ve got a gut feeling that I will be able to get pregnant eventually, I just don’t know how much work it will take. However, even if I never do get pregnant, I’m happy with the thought that we will adopt. It just feels right.

And so, this ends my post about PCOS. The acronym to explain my weird body. No one will experience it the same way I do, in fact, I am extremely lucky in how mild my symptoms have been. Too bad symptoms don’t indicate fertility levels or heart problems. Such is life.

Mary

Next time: Acronyms of mental health.

Being A Nurse: Creating a New Comfort Zone

Moving to Chicago wasn't my first experience getting out of my comfort zone. Thankfully. In order to grow and learn, we all have to reach outside of that zone. It's up to us how far out we want to reach. Only rarely did I ever go very far out of my zone.

I think my first really big experience was moving to Ogden to attend Weber State University. However, that very quickly became comfortable as I began to call it home. I love Ogden. Next came nursing school. If anything stretched me out of my comfort zone, it was nursing school. Learning how to give shots, start IV's, sterile technique, on top of the amounts of book work I had to stay on top of every week was a whole new ball game. I don't really know if I ever got "comfortable" there. Mostly because we're always learning. 

Most people in Utah say their mission was the hardest 2 years of their life. Nursing school was the hardest 2 years of mine. It's intensive, and time consuming. I remember my dad being so proud of me when I chose to become a nurse because it was a job in which I could use my intellect. My intellect is something he and I worked very hard on all my life growing up.

I feel like so many people don't realize the work that goes into being a nurse. We don't just give compassion, medications, and wipe butts. We have to know anatomy, physiology, pathophysiology, microbiology, biology, chemistry, etc etc etc. We study pharmacology. Those drugs I gave you? I know them, I know their side effects and their safe dosage range. Maybe not by heart, but no nurse should give a drug s/he's unfamiliar with. I had to pass math, English, and even take a few government courses for my degree. I've studied long and hard to get to where I am. I worked my butt off getting experience at clinicals in the hospital. Mornings started at 4:45 AM. For those who know me, I don't do mornings. In fact I've worked evenings and nights for the past few years. Balancing a night shift job with day shift clinicals and daytime school (starting at 8:30 AM) was difficult. In fact, thinking back, I don't know how I survived. Adrenaline?

My next step was to get a nursing job. I worked as a CNA for years, then after my first year of nursing school, I got a job as an LPN at a skilled nursing facility (nursing home/long term rehab). The first few months on the job, I hated it. I was slow, I always ran behind. I clocked out 2 hours late for the first few weeks, then as I got better I clocked out on time but never took a lunch break. I changed shifts that I worked and slowly I had time for breaks, I had time to chart on shift, and I found I could deal with my workload much better. It did take a few months, but in that few months I pushed myself, I made friends, and I came to increase my understanding of why I wanted to be a nurse.

It's a hard job. I complain sometimes. My back often hurts. I also love it. I love working with people, I love seeing their faces when they see the progress they've made or when they finally find some comfort. I love getting to know them. I love getting to know my coworkers. I love building relationships based on teamwork, service, and trust. I have found mentors and friends. Had I given up my job after the first 4 weeks just because it was hard and I didn't know what I was doing, would have never allowed me to reach the place I am at now. 

On March 9th, I start my new nursing job. I am stoked. The hospital is busy, the patients are sick, and I am nervous. However, I can pull from my experiences and go forward with faith. I'm excited to make new friends, and I can't describe my feelings about being in a job where I will use the skill set that I have honed during school. I am blessed. 

More Mary thoughts, coming your way later. 

Mary

Bursting Bubbles

Hi! I'm Mary, and I'm a Mormon.

I'm also a nurse. I am married to a man name Rhett who works in advertising. It's very exciting. We got married in September of 2014, then immediately moved to Chicago, where Rhett had been working for the past year.

This is an update of my experiences living away from family, being in a new and very big city, making new friends, getting a dog, getting a new job in a new field (I just got a job as a med-surg nurse at a hospital nearby), and the occasional review of new TV shows, movies, books, and other entertainment. Also food. I love food. While we are experiencing Chicago, we have set aside a budget just to try new restaurants every week. It's so hard to choose.

This is my new life. Very much outside of my old comfort zone. Many bubbles have burst. Many trials became insignificant in the light of the new things I was about to face.

Together Rhett and I have started a project, which was his idea. Go to disneymeals.wordpress.com for more info. Every week we watch a Disney animated film and make all of the food featured in it. I have been working as a writer for a cooking software company called DVO, where I've been sharing the experiences of our project. It's been all sorts of fun so far. It perfectly combines our shared love of Disney, and food. Yet one more new thing to add to my pile of experiences.

The blog is really for me. I want to document my life, my adventures, and my thoughts somewhere so they don't disappear in my memory. Being a mormon outside of Utah is a whole new experience. One that has been challenging, and exciting. Being a nurse in a new field and new city is going to be just as challenging and exciting, too. I write from the perspective of someone who has a lot of social anxiety, has experienced moderate depression, adult ADD, and an amazing family with crazy stories.

Stay tuned, if you wish. My thoughts are my own, my opinions will change, and I will learn. I will try to keep the blog updated with such things, mostly for my own benefit, but if you like it too, stellar!

Until next time.

Mary