The Story Of Self & Self Love Part 1

            It is seven in the morning here in SLC. My natural alarm clock has a hard time staying in bed past six these days. I got up and stepped on the scale. Still under 360, I take a little pleasure in that, I'm allowed. I get my water cup from the bedroom trying to be quiet and not wake up Shelby. They went to the big football game last night and got in late. I go upstairs to the kitchen and brew a cup of coffee. I retrieve one of two plastic packages of black berries I purchased yesterday. The berry cartel was having a sale two for $3. I make my way downstairs and the motion of my ocean dictates that I spill some at the bottom of the stairs. I curse under my breath and dry the edges of my coffee mug before placing it on the stone coaster my tiny human got me for Christmas. I select the November Mist playlist on Spotify, first making sure the audio is sent to my headphones as everyone else in this house is sleeping. A Thousand Years by Christina Perri hits just a bit different this morning.  

        I have my insecurities. They have been with me since my pre-teens. I wish I could tell you when they started or what really kicked them off. I feel like in some ways my parents were more critical of me than supportive. But I can't really say if that's because the criticism stuck better or if that is the way things truly were. As adults, we often form opinions of how things were with the limited information we had thought the eyes of us as children. 

        When we are kids we have limited say in what we do or learn. I was introduced to the idea of Tiger Scouts in first grade. My parents told me to wait until I could do Cub Scouts with our church program. My mom spent a lot of time making that program happen. We went on hikes and den field trips. Like this one to the Groton airport air traffic control tower. 

        My parents loved the LDS or Mormon church as many of you know it. I grew up going in early with my dad. He always had a calling that had early Sunday morning meetings. Dad and I were often some of the first ones in the ward building and the last ones out. Church for us was a 30-minute drive away. The parents of our ward while working full-time jobs made a lot of activities happen.  

        I was homeschooled after the first grade. I have always been angry at my education. I was lacking in so many areas when I had my self tested. But I also know I was not an easy student. I guess my education was a group fail project? My education is something I have used to hold myself back in my adult life. Would it surprise you to know I am not confident in my writing abilities? 

        Church as I got older became a point of failure. My parents wanted me to serve a mission and get married in the temple. Life at home was strict, and I did not have much control over exploring different parts of life. Youth activities, service projects and Boy Scouts were what we did. I did start going to the food pantry in Old Lyme almost every Saturday. It was something I could do unsupervised. I got to socialize with people not of my faith. So I did, I rode my bike the mile plus down as often as I could. I also could go to the library by myself. I put a lot of mile on that bike. It even got me to my first job a lot of the time. 

        Well I guess my second job. My parents did loan me the money to purchase DJ equipment. I used the money to pay back the loan. I remember fondly be asked by a ward member to DJ the valentines party. He was less than impressed when I told him what the cost would be. I did the party and I got paid. I was less than impressed when one of the members of the youth group came up to me and expressed his opinion that I should not have charged. People had been talking, and the news got back to him. He felt that I was given the equipment and should have just donated my time. He was taken aback when I informed him my parents loaned me the money and I had to pay it back. The rumor mill was strong in our little community.

        This picture jumps ahead a few years. Let me cathc you up. I got a job at the local gas station. Now these people were different! I was constant contact with the outside world. My coworkers drank, smoked and swore. My dad took a calling on the high council. So I either went with them to different wards, got a ride from the bishops' wife to our ward or scheduled myself to work. 

        A few things stand out about this time in life.  The Bishop of the ward and his wife lived in the same town as us. We enjoyed our Sunday morning talks together as we drove to church. One Sunday he called me into the office and gave me a lecture about not being a burden on the ward and needing to find my own way to church. I was still not a licensed driver and a 30-minute car ride away was way too far on a bike. Later when I apologized to her and told her I was not supposed to ask her for a ride any longer shew was taken aback. Her husband got an ear full from her. But to a point the damage was done. 

        I started just raveling with my parents on the days I could not get scheduled to work. At this point I was 16 and my mom told me I was done with school. I really wasn't, but I was not going to argue. I started working full-time. One Sunday we were in our home ward. Our young men's leader gave a lesson and was very vocal about how we needed to be in our home ward even if our parents traveled on Sundays. At this point I was going through the motions less about church. I got it set up so that I worked basically every Sunday. When I started driving I went a bit as it was allowable for me to drive farther to go to church. But in the end it was not worth it for me. 

        I always felt like the odd one out by the time I was in my later teen years. I did not desire to serve a mission for the church. So these experiences while negative were not what killed my faith. The church and faith that my parents loved did not feel like home to me. I spent a summer working with two ward members installing computer systems in supermarkets in the lower East Coast. I was 17 then.

        Full of wonder and with a few thousand in my pocket I came home and told my father that I wanted to go to Idaho. Elder Cromar who served in our ward a few years prior had a carpet installing business, and I was heading to learn how to install carpet with him. Dad was flying out to visit family in Idaho so we flew out together and parted ways at the SLC airport. I went to church with Charles at the college ward he was assigned to. Eventually I was told I had to go to the family ward as I was not 18 yet. I went to a point. 

        I can't remember how in the hell I met Tyler. But I became friends with him and his brother Travis. In turn, I became friends with friends of theirs. I had my first beer and cigarette before I was 18. Travis took me to get my first tattoo at 18 in Idaho Falls. I was finally able to make my own discoveries, choices and mistakes.

        It is now 9 am here. I had to hit pause to get my second cup of coffee and more water. This time I restrained the motion of my ocean and did not spill at the bottom of the stairs. I am realizing how long this post is becoming, so I am going to turn this into a two or more part post. But not before I share some thoughts, feeling and observations. 

    A Thousand Years by Christina Perri. It hit so hard this morning because of self-love. I feel like I have waited a thousand years to love myself. Self-love for me came about in my post Morgan 2021 life. If I had loved and respected myself I NEVER would have been in a relationship with her. When we don't value ourselves we allow others to take us for granted. We accept, tolerate and remain silent about things that we never should. 

    Listening to that song in this mindset I took a stroll down memory lane and looked at the pictures of myself in google photos. I wanted to give younger me a hug. I looked at so many pictures of myself that were versions of myself that I HATED. I put me through so much shit by being at war with myself. My massage therapist Gohar once told me that she felt once I was truly loved I would probably shed these extra pounds I walk around with. I think she is right. But the love has to be self-love. Shelby truly loves and values me and is an amazing partner. But I am still in so many ways at war with myself.

    Self work is never ending once it starts. This early morning session with myself has reminded me how much I still have to do. This feels as groundbreaking as my first Dear Bishop post was for me. 

    The LDS faith was not for me. I felt bad letting my parents down. It was hard for my father to accept me leaving that faith. Trying to live a religion that did not work with who I am did not help with my depression. I often walked through life feeling like I was failing and with thoughts of self harm. If I stayed in that religion I would have never known peace with myself and I might not be here today. 

    While I do not appreciate that so many of my youthful experiences were religion based. I am grateful for all the effort my parents put into the youth group. While they were strict they did give me opportunities that I was privileged to have. They tried to push me to go to college and made and took me for a campus tour for s school that had an automotive program. I did not know then or have the means to express it but my anxiety and self-doubts about my education prevented me from moving forward. No parents are perfect, but they did love me, and they tried to give me a better life than they had. I have not always given them the credit they deserve. 

    If you have made it this far I truly appreciate you for reading this. I hope somewhere along this journey you have found a nugget that helps you and I would love to hear about it.  

Bishop :(: