Black with White Stripes or White with Black Stripes?

Blogging about my depression has seemed to help in the past, so I thought I'd give it a go again.

About a week ago my depression started getting pretty bad again. Many things have probably contributed: being sick, being sick again on top of being sick, being stressed about moving, being stressed about everything, and just life's wear and tear in general.

Talking more openly about my specific battle with depression has made me more aware of it. It's almost like an outer body experience. I can hear myself saying negative and almost always irrational things, and at the same time there is a part of me, floating around somewhere going, "That's depression! Just tell it to piss off!" A lot of times that will work, but this week I've just let myself sink deeper and deeper into negativity.

Tonight while I talked to Diego I said something to the effect of, "I guess I've just been kidding myself for the last several months thinking I could be happy. This is who I really am."

Almost immediately I questioned what I had said (or actually, typed, since Diego and I were chatting online). It sounded very definite and final. Am I really just a severely depressed person who is occasionally happy? Or am I a generally happy person who struggles with depression?

I thought of one of my favorite kid movies, Madagascar, and Marty the Zebra's soul searching question, "I'm ten years old. My life is half over and I don't even know if I'm black with white stripes or white with black stripes!"

It's a little paradoxical, because when I am in that mode of depression where no rational person or thought can penetrate my bubble of negativity, I AM a depressed person that can sometimes fight off my depression, and fool everyone into thinking that I am happy. But when I am happy and that fog of depression is not clouding my intellect, I know that I struggle with depression, but it does not define me.

The truth is, depression will probably never completely leave me in this mortal life. I will always grapple with that question, "Am I black with white stripes or white with black stripes?" Maybe there is no answer. Maybe I am both.

Maybe the key is to stop trying to define myself in black and white and see myself rather in the array of colors that I am.

I am a music loving, Spanish speaking, cookie eating girl (woman, I guess I have to be a woman now that I'm technically in my "late" 20s). I am a wife to the most attractive Peruvian man on the planet. I am the mother of the most adorable little girl. I am opinionated and I can be loud. I am a clown--I love to make other people laugh. I'm an aspiring author who has no idea when my first book will be done. I arrange concerts and musical numbers and choreograph dances...in my head. Someday they will become a reality. I dream of starting my own school in Peru to teach English while using theater and music. I am a daughter of God, who loves me, and I love Him!

That's me. Those are my colors. Forget black and white.

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.

You have more influence than you think

"Whoever you are and where ever you may be, you hold in your hands the happiness of more people than you can imagine."

(Henry B. Eyring)

I have this habit of checking the stats of my blog every time I publish a new post. Sometimes I will sit and click refresh over and over again to see if the number of views has gone up at all in the last millisecond. Probably not the most productive use of my time, but hey, a little self indulgence every now and again isn't all bad, right?

One of the features on Blogger's statistics is showing your blog's traffic sources and referring URLs. With that, you can also see any keywords that have been used in searches that led to your blog. For me, there isn't usually anything there, since my blog isn't too high up in the search engine hierarchy. However, while casually looking at stats the other day, I noticed three different searches.

They were originally in Spanish; here are the translations.

"I hate being 15"
"I hate my teeth"
"I like him but can't talk to him because I hate my teeth"

These keywords led their searchers to a blog post of mine called I Have An Overbite...and That's Okay, which I translated into Spanish as I Hate My Teeth. (It was a little complicated to translate the title and make it sound good, so that was the next best thing, haha.)

The Spanish version of this post got a dismal number of views, according to myself, who sets higher expectations. However, by reading the keywords of searches that led to three of those views, I came to an important conclusion.

I have a lot more influence than I thought.

While it may not be true, I'd like to imagine that the individuals who typed in those searches were young women, probably with their self esteem pretty low. I would also like to think that maybe they were helped by reading the experience of another young woman who had really low self esteem but was then able to overcome it. I don't know any of that for sure, but it got me thinking.

My post could have just 1 view. And if that one view helped to brighten someone's day who needed it, or teach someone something they didn't know before, than it was worth taking the time to write the post.

In this day and age the internet has come under fire quite often as being something that dissociates us with reality and with meaningful human interaction. While that may be true on many accounts, I believe that it can also be a powerful tool for meaningful communication. And through blogging and other types of internet public discourse, it can provide meaningful communication to people you have never even met and will probably never meet.

This also means that we should be cautious about the things that we write. To quote Sara Bareilles*,

"You can be amazing
You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug..."

"Nothing's gonna hurt you the way the words do
when they settle 'neath your skin..."

So be careful. Words are so powerful. For good or for bad. So "let your words be anything but empty." Lift people up. You have more influence than you think.


*Brave, by Sara Bareilles

Trending Now: Depression

I have suffered from depression nearly all my life.

Maybe.

From a very young age I had really bad self-esteem. I used to list the reasons I hated myself. I would come home from school and analyze everything I had said and done, every single human interaction I had been through that day. Then I would start beating myself up for stupid things I had said and done.

I had a really great support net in high school. I had a strong group of friends that stuck with me through the tough times that surely every teenager goes through. There were times when I would want to disappear, to cease to exist. But overall I did pretty well.

The first couple years of college I also had wonderful friends. I am a super yellow extrovert, and social interactions are really important to my emotional well-being. So even though I would get pretty down every month or so, I always got back up.

I went on a 18-month mission to Honduras when I was 21. There were days when I couldn't leave my house because I was so depressed. But I thought that was normal, too.

The depression really culminated months after I returned home. I was living in an apartment with 4 other girls at school, but I was in a serious long-distance relationship and they were all single. My social interactions basically just ceased to exist. I stopped going to my classes. I stopped bathing. I stopped eating. For the first time in my life, I couldn't get out of that hole. All I wanted to do was stay in bed for the rest of my life and wither away into nothing. I would start bawling for no reason at all and not be able to get a hold of myself for hours. I constantly wanted to hurt myself.

That's when I decided I needed some help. I went to a counselor for the first time ever. I started taking medicine--something I had convinced myself I would never need. I wanted to talk myself out of it. The thought of taking medicine for my depression made me feel like a failure.

But the medicine helped. I was finally able to lift up my heavy head and be somewhat productive with my life. I graduated from college, got married, and had a baby. There were difficult moments, but I was able to triumph over them.

Right before I had my baby, I stopped taking my depression meds. I didn't want them to effect her in any way during pregnancy or breastfeeding. I thought I didn't need them anymore. I was sure it was a temporary crutch that had taught me a lesson.

It's been a little over 9 months now. Things were going pretty well up until about a month ago. I started dreading the idea of turning 26. I missed my friends. I felt completely alone. I was only able to see the negative things that were happening to me. I started to do things that I'd done before I got on the medicine. I tried to freeze myself to death in the snow. If my husband hadn't found me, I probably would have stayed outside the entire night.

Nearly two weeks ago, in a fit of depression, I erased about 500 friends from Facebook. Friends who have been there for me for a long time. But I felt let down, left out. I thought, "They won't even notice." And perhaps they haven't.

The point of this post was not really to drone on about my pathetic depressive tendencies, though. It was because the other day I was on the home page of Yahoo. There is a box on the right side of the page that says, "Trending Now:" I was surprised to see "depression" listed.

My first thought was, "Oh, what, it's a trend now? It's trendy?" Then I felt mad. As though other people being depressed would somehow diminish the fact that I was/am depressed.

It's what keeps a lot of people who have depression from doing anything about it, I think. When you see that it is "trending" all of the sudden, it seems like it can't be that big of a deal. You probably are just really sad. If anyone out there is anything like me, the LAST thing you want to be is like everybody else.

But I've been thinking about it a lot over the last few days. Just because it seems to becoming more common does not make depression any less serious or worthy of treating. That just doesn't make sense. That would be like me saying that because more and more people have diabetes or cancer or any other life-threatening disease, that it is not that big of a deal, or that it's all in my head.

It is a big deal.

And it needs to be taken care of. If I have to go back on medicine for a while, or meet with a counselor, then so be it. My husband needs me, my daughter needs me. My life is still important, even when I think I'm just any old regular nobody who has depression just like everybody else.

In fact, in a way, it's kind of nice to know that there are others out there who know what it is like to want to stop living. To give up. Because if we understand how that feels, it might be easier for us to have compassion on others.


P.S. If you happen to be reading this, and I erased you on Facebook--I'm sorry. Feel free to add me again, or I will probably go back and try to re-add most of the people I unfriended.

New Year's Announcement: We're in the Army Now

DISCLAIMER: Diego hasn't really wanted me to post anything about him joining the Army because supposedly he might be sick or something and he's worried they won't let him in (even though he's sworn in and everything). So, even though it's pretty much a done deal, just remember that there is a SLIGHT chance (like .00001%) that he would be medically discharged. But not really. But I'm throwing it out there to make him feel better.

So anyway, I guess that kind of ruined the element of surprise.

Guess what!

Diego joined the Army.


(If you don't really care about the background of the decision, go ahead and skip down to the bottom in RED to get the nitty gritty details)

I'm pretty sure if this were me reading this post just a few months ago I would have thought, "Okay, what gives? It's not April Fool's or anything." Because a few months ago I never could have imagined how dramatically our lives would change. I never would have imagined my Peruvian husband joining the United States military in any way shape or form. And definitely could never imagine me: his peace-loving, gun-fearing, war-hating wife letting him do such a thing. But here I am, a converted Army wife.

A lot of thought, prayer, and fasting have gone into our decision. You see, we have goals for our family. Diego being the main provider. Me taking care of Lucia. Diego getting the skills and education he needs to be successful here. Finding a way to get medical insurance. Having a strong family dedicated to the gospel. All these goals seem to go in opposite directions, and we couldn't find a way to complete them all.

Then Diego brought up the idea of joining the Army. My initial reaction was simply: NO. I didn't give it a second thought. It was just NO. But Diego is stubborn (sometimes its a good thing). He kept on doing research about the benefits of joining the military. He talked to friends and family who had served in the military. He met with a recruiter.

Little by little it started to make sense to me.

You see, Diego never planned to come to the United States. He was pretty successful in Peru. As a youth, he studied hard, he'd served in the Church, he was an accomplished black belt in karate. He'd been accepted into one of the best universities in Peru, studying law. He had plans to go on to be a lawyer for businesses. Then he served an honorable full time mission in Honduras. That's where he met me and all his plans changed.

That's the part of our story that never gets told. The fact that Diego had a pretty good life and a pretty set plan where he was at. And he sacrificed it all to be with me. And then he kept sacrificing.

We started our marriage with a lot more debt than normal couples. Normal couples don't have to pay thousands of dollars for plane tickets just to see each other, or a thousand more for a Visa to come to the U.S. to get married, or $1500 for residency so he could STAY in the U.S. And normal couples don't have to wait a year for the husband to start legally working.

Diego was in No Man's Land. He couldn't work. He couldn't study. He couldn't even drive. Couldn't have a bank account. He pretty much just lived here. His self-esteem took a heavy blow. The successful, driven man that I had first met and married seemed defeated to me.

That's what I love about the idea of being in the Army. It is a chance for Diego to prove to himself that he is strong. He is intelligent. And he can do hard things. This will be possibly the biggest challenge of his life. But when he accomplishes it, he will regain his sense of  self.

So here's the basic information. 
Diego will train to be a 68W, Combat Medic.
He leaves to basic training on March 17, to Fort Sill, Oklahoma.
He'll be there for 9 weeks.
He starts his AIT (job training) on June 2 at Fort Sam Houston, in San Antonio, Texas.
He'll be there for 15 weeks.

We'll then move to wherever he gets stationed. He's in Active Duty for the next 4 years.

Some great news though. By the time he's done with training, Diego will become a U.S. citizen!!

Any support at this time is greatly appreciated. Tips, information, hugs, are all welcome. We don't really want any "What the heck were you thinking??" comments, though. Too late for that. He's signed and sworn in. We're very excited to be starting this new adventure together.

Odio mis dientes

Cuando yo era una niña empecé a tener algunos problemas con mi autoestima. La mayoría de ellos provenía directamente de mi apariencia física. Cuando tenía unos 12 o 13 años hacía una lista de todas las cosas que odiaba sobre mí. Estas listas incluían cosas como ojeras bien oscuras, pecas,  los dientes feos, y ser plana de pecho (sí, a los 13 años me preocupaba que yo nunca sería lo suficientemente tetona).

Cuando entré en mi adolescencia, mi autoestima en realidad subió un poco. Esto puede haber sido debido al hecho de que me mudé cuando tenía 15 años, y los chicos empezaron a prestarme atención. Y cuando los chicos te presten atención, significa que eres bonita, ¿verdad?

A través de un poco más de maduración y crecimiento espiritual, he aprendido a valorarme por lo que soy, una hija de Dios con un valor infinito, y no por mi apariencia. Sin embargo, siempre ha habido una cosa que me hace muy incómoda.

Odio mis dientes.

Ahí está, lo dije. Yo totalmente y completamente detesto mis dientes. Y no me gusta hablar de ellos. De hecho, no me gusta hablar de los dientes en general. La palabra "dientes " me da asco. Tal vez porque me acuerdo de mis propios dientes imperfectos, que han sido un punto de dolor durante todo el tiempo que puedo recordar. Si alguna vez el tema de la conversación llega a los dientes, inmediatamente me quedo callada. No voy a hablar, para garantizar que ni un poco de la atención se dirige hacia mi boca.

De hecho, ese párrafo ahí fue muy difícil para mí escribir. En serio. Porque ahora todos ustedes están viendo mis dientes, ¿verdad?

Bueno, la razón por la que he hecho esta confesión pública es debido a esto: ya no me molesta. Y no voy a permitir que me incomode más.

La razón de este cambio milagroso viene de una charla que estaba escuchando hace unas semanas. Era un devocional de BYU del agosto pasado por la profesora Kristen L. Matthews y se titula: "El valor de las almas es grande."

En su discurso, Matthews dice lo siguiente,

"Hemos creado categorías como la nacionalidad, la raza, el origen étnico, sexo, religión, partido político, el estado civil, y así sucesivamente para organizar y dar sentido a la diversidad de la humanidad. Sin embargo, demasiado a menudo usamos estos sistemas aparentemente descriptivos para determinar el valor de los demás. Estas jerarquías artificiales de valor pueden causar división, discordia y comprensión sesgada de autoestima.

Uno de los sistemas de valoración que tiene consecuencias negativas para los sentimientos de valor individual es la belleza. Los seres humanos hacen todo lo posible para alcanzar un ideal entrenamientos belleza extrema, cirugía plástica, trastornos de la alimentación, rituales maquillaje elaborados, amplia cabello y tratamientos de uñas, y la compra compulsiva. Todos estos comportamientos se derivan del deseo de ser bella porque se nos ha enseñado a creer que las personas bellas son más valiosas que otros.

Recuerde: la belleza ideal es una construcción de este mundo. Podemos señalar a los sospechosos habituales de este falso sistema de valor de la industria de la moda, la publicidad, la televisión, etcétera. Y sí, nos bombardean con imágenes que dicen: "Esto es hermoso. Si eres esto, serás popular, que serás importante, serás deseable para ser novia o esposa, que serás digna de ser amada.”

La frase "la belleza ideal es una construcción de este mundo" resonó dentro de mí. En el momento en que empezó a hablar de la belleza, inmediatamente pensé en mis dientes. Pero tan pronto como ella dijo que "la belleza ideal es una construcción de este mundo," recuerdo que pensé: "Así que... ¿quién es el que dice que la forma de mis dientes me hace más fea?"

Tal vez sea porque cuando vas al dentista con los dientes "torcidos " o "imperfectos" te ofrecerán a "arreglarlos." Y la oficina del dentista no parece ser un lugar para promover la belleza superficial. Sería para su salud, ¿verdad? Porque el dentista es como un médico.

Este no es un mensaje para antagonizar los dentistas, sino más bien es para que yo me quede claro en algo. No hay una "belleza ideal."

La frase "La belleza está en el ojo del que mira" es realmente cierto. Estamos condicionados desde una edad muy joven para ser espectadores  que juzgan la belleza de acuerdo a las normas que nos traen revistas, programas de televisión y películas.

No dejen que uno (o varios) de sus características físicas les detengan o te hagan sentir de menos.

Élder Jeffrey R. Holland dijo lo siguiente:

“La atención excesiva al yo personal y el énfasis en el físico es más que demencia social; es espiritualmente destructivo y es responsable de gran parte de la desdicha con que las mujeres, entre ellas las jovencitas, se enfrentan en el mundo de hoy. Y si los adultos se preocupan de la apariencia —de hacerse estirar la piel, de recortarla o de hacerse implantar objetos en el cuerpo, o de hacerse modificar todo a lo que se le pueda dar nueva forma— esas preocupaciones y angustias seguramente tendrán un efecto en los hijos.”

Eso va para las mujeres y los hombres. Como una nueva madre de una hermosa niña, yo quiero que mi hija sepa que si ella no se parece a la supermodelo tradicional en una portada de revista, eso está bien. El hecho de que no se parece a otra persona no le quita nada de su propia belleza y ciertamente no de su valor infinito.

Tal vez no tengo los dientes “perfectos” según un ortodontista, pero  yo todavía soy hermosa.

Referencias:

Kristen L. Matthews, El Valor de las Almas es Grande. BYU Devotional, 13 agosto 2013.

Jeffrey R. Holland, Alas mujeres jóvenes. La conferencia general, octubre de 2005.

La versión en inglés: I Have an Overbite...and That's Okay.

I have an overbite...and that's okay.

When I was a fairly young child, I started having some major self-esteem issues. Most of them stemmed directly from my physical appearance. When I was around 12 or 13 I would make lists of all of the things I hated about myself. These lists would include things like having dark circles under my eyes, having freckles, having ugly teeth, and being flat chested (yes, at 13 I was worried that I would never be busty enough).

As I entered my teenage years, my self-esteem actually went up quite a bit. This may have been due to the fact that I moved when I was 15, and boys started paying attention to me. And when boys pay attention to you, it means you are pretty, right? (Please note the sarcasm.)

Through some maturation and definite spiritual growth, I learned to value myself for who I was, a daughter of God with infinite worth, and not by what I looked like. Nevertheless, there has always been one thing that makes me extremely uncomfortable.

I have an overbite.

There, I said it. I absolutely and completely detest my teeth. And I hate talking about them. In fact, I hate talking about teeth in general. The word “teeth” makes me cringe. Maybe because I am reminded of my own imperfect teeth, which have been a sore spot for as long as I can remember. If ever the topic of conversation comes to teeth, I immediately go quiet. I will not contribute, so as to ensure that not an ounce of attention is directed towards my mouth.

In fact, that paragraph right there was really hard for me to write. Seriously. Because now you are all looking at my teeth, right?

Well, the reason I have come out and made this public confession is because of this: it no longer bothers me. And I will not allow it to make me uncomfortable anymore.

The reason for this miraculous change comes from a talk that I was listening to a few weeks ago. It was given at a BYU devotional this past August by professor Kristen L. Matthews and is entitled, “The Worth of Souls is Great.”

In her talk, Matthews says the following,

“We have created categories such as nationality, race, ethnicity, sex, religious affiliation, political party, marital status, and so on to organize and make sense of humankind’s diversity. However, too often we use these seemingly descriptive systems to determine the worth of others. These human-made hierarchies of value can cause division, contention, and skewed understandings of self-worth.

One system of valuation that has negative consequences for feelings of individual worth is beauty. Human beings go to great lengths to achieve some ideal beauty—extreme workouts, plastic surgery, eating disorders, elaborate makeup rituals, extensive hair and nail treatments, and compulsive shopping. All of these behaviors stem from the desire to be beautiful because we are taught to believe that beautiful people are more valuable than others.

Remember: ideal beauty is a construction of this world. We can point to the usual suspects for this false system of value—the fashion industry, advertising, television, and so on. And yes, we are bombarded with images that say, “This is beautiful. If you are this, you will be popular, you will be important, you will be datable, you will be marriageable, you will be worth loving.”

The phrase “ideal beauty is a construction of this world” really stuck out to me. The moment she started to talk about beauty, I immediately thought of my overbite. But as soon as she said that “ideal beauty is a construction of this world,” I remember thinking, “So...who is it that says that my overbite makes me uglier?”

Maybe it’s because when you go to the dentist with “crooked” or “imperfect” teeth, they will offer to “fix” them for you. And the dentist's office doesn't seem like a place to promote superficial beauty. It would be for your health, right? Because the dentist is like a doctor.

This is not a post to antagonize dentists, but rather to come to grips with something myself. There is no “ideal beauty.”

The phrase “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” is really true. We are conditioned from a very young age to be “beholders” who judge beauty according to standards brought to us by magazines and TV shows and movies.

Don’t let one (or many) of your physical characteristics hold you back or bring you down.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said this:

“In terms of preoccupation with self and a fixation on the physical, this is more than social insanity; it is spiritually destructive, and it accounts for much of the unhappiness women, including young women, face in the modern world. And if adults are preoccupied with appearance—tucking and nipping and implanting and remodeling everything that can be remodeled—those pressures and anxieties will certainly seep through to children.”

That goes for women and men. As a new mother of a beautiful baby girl, I want my daughter to know that if she doesn't look like the traditional supermodel on a magazine cover, that’s okay. Just because you don’t look like someone else doesn't detract at all from your own beauty and certainly not from your infinite worth.

I have an overbite. And I’m still beautiful.

References:

Kristen L. Matthews, The Worth of Souls is Great. BYU Devotionals, Aug 2013.

Jeffrey R. Holland, To Young Women. General Conference, Oct 2005.

P.S.

If you happen to feel bad about some flaw or your teeth (like me), check out this photo gallery I found from MSN!

Flaws We Love