The Day I Almost Quit 100 Happy Days

It was June 5, day 65 of my 100 Happy Days challenge. Over half-way through, I felt pretty upset about quitting.

"But that's what you are, a quitter."

That was my depression. She has a nasty voice that sounds like mine when I'm at my meanest.

"Why did you think you could be happy for 100 days straight? Are you kidding? You're never happy."

My rational voice tried to protest by saying that I'd already proved to myself that I could do it for 64 days. But when I'm depressed, my rational voice is just a really soft mutter.

I don't even remember why I was depressed that day. Sometimes (actually, most of the time) there isn't even a valid reason. Something small might tip me off and then I'm down a dark hole faster than Alice in Wonderland.

The whole reason I had started the 100 Happy Days challenge in the first place was to help with my depression. Especially since my husband left to train with the Army for 6 months, being happy seemed like an impossible task. But structure and goals seemed to help quite a bit, so this challenge was perfect.

I'd seen some of my friends posting their challenge pictures on Facebook and wanted to give it a go. There had definitely been some sad moments in the first 64 days, but I was always able to find something to be happy about during that time, even if it was something as simple as a bowl of ice cream after finally putting my baby to bed.

Not Day 65 though. For some reason I couldn't get out of my hole long enough to find something positive about my most-likely uneventful day. I'd probably just stayed home all day, in my pajamas. Maybe I'd made goals and plans for the day and not done any of them. Maybe I just felt like a waste of space, and it was all I could do to feed my baby and keep her happy between waking up, nap time, and bedtime.

"You did nothing today, you loser. What do you have to be happy about?"

Snarky ugly depression voice. I really hate her, and she sure is loud.

Then I heard a very soft voice say, "Well, there is always tomorrow."

And suddenly, that was my happy thought for the day. Days could get really bad, but the sun always comes up the next day with new opportunities and new surprises.

Maybe I hadn't been productive or positive that day, but it didn't mean I had to stay down in the dumps forever. Tomorrow comes and we get another chance. If that doesn't make everyone happy, I don't know what will.

Today I posted my last "100 Happy Days" picture to my wall on Facebook. I'm so glad I didn't give up, and didn't pay attention to that awful mean voice in my head that kept telling me I'm a quitter. I have learned so much in the last 100 days, but most importantly that happy does not depend on your circumstances, but rather on your choices.

There have been sad days during my 100 Happy Days, but I've been able to find at least one happy thing each day, despite what may have happened. Most days I could have posted a ton of pictures of what made me happy that day.

To make sure I got my challenge done, I would start each day thinking, "I wonder what I'll post today." Then throughout the day I'd make sure to take a picture, or find a picture online to represent what happiness I'd found in the day.

So, to my obnoxious depression voice--IN YOUR FACE! I WON!

She may always be around, trying to bring me down, but now that I've been happy for 100 days, I will continue to look for the happy every single day for the rest of my life. Because once you've developed that habit, it's hard to break.

Promises, Covenants, and Ordinances

In 2009, I was madly in love. I was 21 years old and dating the guy that I'd had a crush on since I was 15. It was a dream come true, and I thought it would last forever.

I was also preparing to serve a mission. I'd wanted to serve as long as I could remember and my boyfriend had promised to wait for me. He'd already served two years, and I'd written to him the entire time. Though we'd talked about getting married quite a bit, I'd prayed a lot about my decision to wait and serve a mission, and that felt right.

I remember hanging out with a mutual friend of ours one night before I left. He'd been a close friend of ours for years, and had always been willing to give advice to me and my boyfriend since the beginning of our romantic relationship three years before.

During our conversation, my friend said, "Do you really think he'll wait for you? What happens if you come home and he's not around anymore?"

The thought had crossed my mind briefly before, but I was convinced that after the three years in which we'd gone through so much together, we were sure to be able to make it through 18 more months. I assured my friend of this, to which he responded,

"But 18 months is a long time and people change."

Well, we did change. At least he did. I wasn't 3 months into my mission before my boyfriend had gotten another girlfriend.

I've been reflecting a lot on that conversation I had with my friend all those years ago since I read a blog by Matt Walsh called, "My wife is not the same woman that I married," where he addresses divorce, marriage, and people changing.

On my mission to Honduras the biggest obstacle that most adults faced when wanting to get baptized was the fact that they were living in fornication or adultery. They weren't married to the person they were living with. They would introduce each other as, "This is my husband," or "This is my wife," but the actual marriage had never been performed. They just hooked up one day and then decided to live together. They were lacking a very significant promise.

A lot of them would ask me what the big deal was. They were just like a married couple. Many of them had children. Some told me that marriage just ruined things, and that living together was the best.

They failed to recognize the significance of promises, covenants, and ordinances.

Yesterday I was able to teach a class to the Young Women about ordinances and covenants.

An ordinance is a sacred, formal act performed by the authority of the priesthood. It initiates a solemn covenant.

On May 25, 2012, around 11am, my sweetheart and I covenanted with the Lord and with each other that we would love and take care of each other and spend the rest of eternity together. The ordinance was performed by a sealer in the temple who has the priesthood authority.

The hollow promise my boyfriend made to wait for me years earlier pales in comparison to this covenant and ordinance. Because now, though we may change (and we most assuredly will, because all people do!) we have that specific, sacred covenant to anchor us when times get tough. We made a promise that trumps all change. It was done in the right way, in the right place, and with the right authority. That is what all those couples in Honduras were lacking. There was no formal commitment; either one could leave at anytime.

Making covenants and receiving ordinances doesn't mean we're set and everything is taken care of; now life is going to be a piece of cake. In yesterday's class, one of the girls pointed that out. People do break solemn covenants all the time. It doesn't mean they are unbreakable. It doesn't mean that people lose faith, and fail to draw on the strength that is offered by those ordinances.

Everyone has their agency. But those specific ordinances are there to give us strength and power to resist temptation and cling dearly to our covenants. Those precise moments in time serve as potent reminders when all the forces in the universe seem to want to rip you apart.

God's plan of happiness for His children is molded around ordinances. I'm grateful for the specific, power-invested ordinances and covenants that are so much more than mere circumstantial promises.

What I Learned from Going to Walmart at Midnight

I think we all had the same general idea. Go to the store late at night, miss the crowds. Quick in, quick out.

I don't think anyone was really anticipating the 20 minute lines and whole families with their carts overflowing. Well, at least I wasn't.

I went to grab some shirts for the Fourth of July. I wasn't really surprised that the pickings were slim, it being July 3rd. So after about a half hour of searching and finely combing through the clothes, I found what I needed and headed to check out.

I wasn't in a hurry. I had put my baby to sleep hours before and was actually kind of enjoying being able to shop without her running around tugging clothes off of their hangers and onto the floor, or crying about not being held enough or just crying for no reason in particular.

My first choice was to go to self check-out, but they were all closed. So I headed to one of the four lanes that were open. I was about fourth in line. The person who was being helped had a cart full of things and seemed to be price matching all of them.

All around me I could hear people complaining. Complaining about the lines. The wait. The incompetence of the staff. Complaining about the other shoppers. About Walmart. About their human resources policies.

The atmosphere was intense. Not at all what I had expected.

Usually when I run to the store late at night I feel like I'm invisible. Tonight that was hardly an option. The girl behind me commented on all the sketchy weirdos who come to Walmart late at night. I just nodded, hoping that I didn't look too much like a sketchy weirdo.

Finally after about 5 minutes, they opened up another lane. I moved toward it, behind three other customers. The first people in line, again, had quite a bit of groceries. The poor clerk looked completely overwhelmed. The boys in front of me, who had just a bag of candy, were clearly agitated. When the clerk couldn't figure out how to scan something, they scoffed and said loudly, "Can't you just get a manager?" They loudly tapped their feet and clicked their tongues, as if it wasn't already obvious that they were upset.

There were two girls in front of me as well. Both the girls and the boys ended up deserting the line while unabashedly exclaiming the clerk's incompetence. That left me next in line, while the clerk still struggled to finish ringing up the first customer. I saw her desperation and could feel her stress. I just wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be alright.

I could hear some people behind me shouting obscenities, because obviously waiting in a line at Walmart for 10 or 15 minutes was the worst thing that had ever happened to them.

Then I heard the girl right behind me say, "That's a cute dress."

She was talking to me. I turned around and smiled and thanked her. We then proceeded to have a nice conversation about her trip to New York tomorrow and also about my adorable one-year-old daughter. (Pictures were shown, as I didn't have any other proof to attest to the cuteness of my baby.)

Finally it was my turn to check out. I looked at that sweet woman behind the counter and said, "Hi Heidi" (name tags are the best!). She looked as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She still seemed nervous, but much more relaxed. She smiled and said she wished the customers had name tags, too.

I introduced myself and asked her how long she'd been working. She told me just since 10pm, but she'd only been a clerk for 3 weeks, and up until that night she'd always had someone shadowing her. I told her she was doing a great job, and not to worry about it. She rang my shirts up without a hitch and after wishing her a happy Fourth of July and a good night, I was out the door.

As I drove home, I mulled over in my head everything that had just happened.

I've decided that when found unanticipated potentially stressful or unpleasant situations, there are two types of people: those who make it better, and those who make it worse.

We were all at Walmart. We all had a common goal of buying something (or lots of somethings) and then leaving.

There were long lines. Well, longer than you would expect at 11:40 at night. Although, not too much longer than a normal Saturday afternoon.

They were short on staff, probably because they weren't anticipating a huge rush at midnight, even with it being the Fourth of July tomorrow.

There were those who complained. Oh my goodness. Seriously? Complaining about the people who shop at Walmart...while shopping at Walmart? That means you are complaining about yourself! I don't care if this is your very first time in a Walmart (although I'm betting it wasn't). If you don't want to shop at Walmart, then don't.

And then there were those like the cute girl behind me, who decided to make the best of the situation. I'm not even going to say "bad" situation, because the only reason it was bad was because people were making it so. If everyone had been as nice and kind as the girl behind me, and just made the most of the situation by talking to her neighbor in line, the whole atmosphere would have been different.

I also learned that you can change how other people react to situations. When the foul mouthed teenage boys behind me heard how I was speaking to the clerk, they seemed to soften a bit. Not a ton, but enough that they kindly chimed in the conversation. They still seemed upset, and I don't know how they acted when they finally were rung up, but I'm hoping they didn't yell at the clerk.

Just...make the most of every situation. It doesn't HAVE to be a bad situation. 15 minutes out of your night to wait in line is NOT going to kill you. Take a chill pill. Be nice.

And if you are going to shop at Walmart, stop complaining about those who shop at Walmart. Especially right in front of them. Come on, let's talk about tactless?

End rant.

[P.S. This is not by any means a political statement for or against Walmart, just an observation about human behavior.]