How NOT to Parent

One thing I say to Seth whenever he says we aren't great parents is "We are better than 80% of parents! Are we perfect? No. But do we love our kids, provide for them, teach them? Yes. We are really good parents so stop overreacting."

Today, I take back every word of it. For me at least. Today was not a good mom day.

Going through this world shattering situation with my family has made me feel like I have zero control of my emotions. Some days, I'm perfectly ok. I go about my day, I get the kids off to school, I work two jobs, I make dinner, clean the house, get the kids taken care of, read books to them, snuggle them and sing them to sleep. Other days, like earlier today, I feel so depressed that I can't move. I stare blankly at the computer screen at the THREE (yes three) email inboxes that are overflowing with things that need my attention. I accomplish some things, but not much. What I do accomplish is little in comparison to what I needed to get done. It just feels like the world is piling more and more on top of me and I'm unsure how I'll ever claw my way out again. The other days, I'm filled with rage. A deep-seated unsettled feeling of pure anger. I'm angry at all of the men in my life who have caused so much pain and trauma. Angry at the men who run this state and country and continue to do poor job of it. Angry at the divide that exists between men and women in the workplace. Angry at the unfair balance of home responsibilities that continue to fall on the mother (even the mother working 2 jobs currently). I'm just fed up with it. I'm disillusioned. I'm exhausted. But I'm exhausted being so angry. But I refuse to keep my mouth shut and pretend that all is ok with the world, when it clearly isn't. So I keep simmering. 

The depression was deep today, but I got out of the house and went to visit my 92-year-old grandmother. It was the perfect fall day that I long for all year. We sat outside and basked a bit in the sun. As a result, the depression lifted. Not long after I left, the rage began to build again. As a result, I was a complete shit parent.

While I was simmering with anger I went to pick up Millie at her cousin's. She was upset to be leaving and the entire night went down the toilet. She was mad about leaving. She was enraged and scared about the flu shot we are getting next week, she was awful to her little sister and just being an overall stinker. So I decided she was grounded for the rest of the night. After hearing her slam doors and throw things for awhile, I gave in, and let her come see her grandma. Grandma always can calm her down. She moped around and glared at me, she was ungrateful to her grandma. She was mean again to her sister, but also to the neighbor kids, and of course to me. I thought it would be a good idea to just get her to snap out of her mood by tickling her (which she loves). She was laughing but apparently mad-laughing. How do I know she was angry? Because my 8-year-old BIT me. That's right. BIT my hand. I would have laughed due to the absurdity of it, but I was shocked. And boy did it piss me off. 

So I sent her back to her room. The neighbor kids saw me yell and stared at me with wide eyes above their little masked faces. My mom saw me yell, and gaped at the entire situation. It was not great and everything went down hill after that.

A list of things NOT to say to children:
-"Your sister is being a poo, a massive foot-long poo." This will result in your 3-year-old neighbor telling her mom and dad that Becky is saying naughty things. 

-"You think YOU have had a bad day? You have no idea what I am going through! I may never speak to my dad again. I am fighting with your dad. I am trying to do two jobs. You and your sister kept me up last night. You had a bad day because you had to leave a playdate early. DEAL WITH IT!"

-"You have GOT to get over shots sis. You are going to get shots your whole life. Pain is part of life. You are going to have babies. BUCK UP kid. Good grief, get over it! It's not the end of the world."

-"You know what, I'm done with you today. Your dad will be home any minute. Eat a bowl of cereal for dinner. I just can't anymore. I'm going across the street to have pizza."

 A list of things TO say to children:
-"I'm sorry Millie. I'm sorry I was so angry. Mom is going through a really hard time right now. You and your sister are my biggest joy. But you are NEVER to bite me again ok?"

-"I'm sorry Tilda. I love you so much and I'm sorry I was so upset tonight. Let's all get some sleep and everything will feel better tomorrow."

How to best recover from your shit day:

-Pizza. Because carbs help everything

-Alone time. Preferably in a dark room with candles lit.

-Write. Write terrible a blog that no one will read. Write because it's therapeutic. 

-A glass of red wine and some popcorn are usually quite beneficial

-Get into bed earlier than usual. 

-Read until you can't keep your eyes open.

-Give yourself some grace and recognize that tomorrow is a new day. A better day. Another chance to get it right. Because these girls deserve the best of you. Don't let your past or other's actions get the best of you.

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

Today is your birthday, you are 69-years-old. For the first time in 39 years, I won't speak to you on your birthday. I won't buy a greeting card that talks about being daddy's little girl. I won't call and hear you answer, in a voice just like Grandma Avery, "hel - oooooo!" There won't be barbecues at your house, where you insist on cooking the meat long before anyone arrives and leave it to warm in the oven. I won't hear "Hi skkkkkkkkinny girl!" when I walk through your door. It's election season there will be no political discussions between us. Gifts of flashlights, pistachios and political biographies will not be given. I won't chastise you for the amount of salt you dump on your food (who salts a hamburger!?) I won't walk through your soft and perfectly manicured lawn, as if you took a large comb and set every blade of grass just so. I won't hear you say how much you brag about Seth and I, knowing well that you exacerbate the truth to bolster us. We won't sing happy birthday and celebrate you. Not this year. Maybe not ever again. 

It's been a week since my world turned upside time. It's been a week since my perception of you changed. It's been a week where I have been filled with rage, then despair, then pity and back again. Of course, I can't say I am surprised to have learned what you did. Tiny pieces of your issues have been breaking through the surface for a decade. These tiny cracks stirring up memories of small ways you have objectified women. The final issue cracking the facade and shattering everything. And while I was the lucky one, your baby, others weren't. Does this mean I have to tell you goodbye, write you out of my life in solidarity with those that you hurt?

It's sometimes impossible to reconcile the dad that raised me, with the dad from the stories I have heard. To me, you were the dad that I always felt safe with and snuck into bed nearly every night, tapping your broad shoulder wrapped in a blue blanket so you would roll over let me crawl in.You were the dad that made up "coo little poo poo", a song the whole family sang to me whenever the garage closed with all of us tucked into the suburban. The dad I knew would rock me in each night, the wood burning fireplace heating the basement, as you watched the Utah Jazz game. I would always pretend to fall asleep so you would carry me to bed. My dad proudly exclaimed "that's my girl" when I caught the softball hit off the tee coming straight at me when I was 7. It was me who would look into your eyes during your divorce and ask you if you had been crying. You were the dad that never missed an important event in my life. You cherished my choir performances and plays, thrilled that one of your children shared your same interests. It was you that sobbed at my wedding breakfast, as we listened to Butterfly Kisses. Always your little girl. Always told to "stay little" while pushing down on my head. 

So much of who I am today comes from you. I'm strong, independent, assertive, a leader. While you used those same traits in ways that I never will, I do have you to thank for them. You also passed along a lot that I wish I didn't have. I'm stubborn to a fault. A fear of seeming complacent. Life-long body image issues. The goddamn patriarchy. You did teach me to stand up for myself. And that is what has led me here today. 

Those more vulnerable than me, need me to stand up for them. Those that suffered at your hands need ME to lead them through this hellish time. Those that don't want to face, or can't face their demons, need me to be their protector now. They are what matter to me. You have left a path of destruction in your wake and I will come through and try to clean up the aftermath. Your aftermath.  And slowly we will pick up the pieces of our broken family. Our family will never look the same,  but we will all begin to heal. We will come out stronger now that we are in an honest place.

The best I can wish for you dad, is that you own up to your mistakes. You need to admit them, you need to apologize for them and you need to begin making reparations. Because from where I stand, you are still my dad. And no matter how angry, and hurt I am, you are still my dad and I don't want to have to cut you completely from my life. I will if necessary. We begin the long process of healing and I hope you join us in that. 

What it Feels Like for a Girl

 Tonight I was snuggling up with with little girls. In the storm of 2020, it was a moment of respite. The weight of their bodies, the smell of their heads, and their little hands grasping mine calmed my soul. For just 15 minutes of this chaotic day filled with fires, destruction from hurricane level winds, chaotic work and cancelled school, the all-consuming sense of doom just melted away. 

"Fifteen more minutes my loves," I reminded them as we watched some cartoon series on Netflix. I admit I wasn't paying much attention to the plot of the show. I opened my dozing eyes momentarily to see what was happening. Suddenly I was aware that the character in the show (a ninja?) was saying "I am going to go on a diet." The plot, to my horror, was all about this ninja eating too much pudding at a restaurant and how he was now fat. He was out of breath when he exercised and so he had to go on a diet. "I should eat this yummy dessert because tomorrow I have to go on my diet so I'm not fat!"

Oh fuck, no. 

I promptly turned off the show (much to the distress of my darling daughters) and said, "Girls, we don't need to watch this. The shape of your body doesn't matter. I will love you no matter what. The way you look doesn't matter. Who you are as a person is all that really matters."

After the girls were tucked into bed, my husband and I got into an argument. He felt like I overreacted. He doesn't see "diet" as a negative thing, but as a way to be healthy. Luckily for him, he was raised in a family with a more healthy mindset. I told him I understood what he way saying, but I was going to be fiercely protective of my daughters so that they wouldn't grow up with the same bullshit self-esteem issues that I grew up with.

One of the things that plagues me as a woman is feeling, in the depth of my soul, that my worth is based on the shape of my body. I was raised to believe that being skinny was the idea and women were more valuable the more beautiful and skinny they were. I remember my father telling me as a sophomore in high school, "All the other girls wear more makeup than you. You should put more makeup on so the boys will notice you more." I have memories of a father and brother watching, with binoculars, the U of U cheerleaders as they did their pushups after a touchdown. Making snide comments under their breath to each other. I've heard my mother recently talk about an old friend and say, "She was beautiful but her sister was sure a dog!" Even now, as a grown woman talking politics with my father about potential VP picks and I mention a qualified woman he said, "Well she's good, but you know, she's just not that pretty." I have reached the point in my life (only took 39 years) that I call my parents out on these comments. I do understand that they are  products of how they were raised as well. My mother grew up the same way. Being told by her dad that she looked "just like her mother when she bent over." I heard my entire life from her (still do) that she felt like an ugly fat-ass. My mother, the stunningly beautiful and strongwoman, felt like she was worth less because of the size of her pants. My father was raised by a full-blown womanizer. Perhaps neither of them stood a chance. 

I have a new therapist and together we have been exploring my childhood. One topic of many has been my self-confidence issues. The sessions are not easy. They are painful and they are work. But I am willing to do the hard work for not only me, but for my girls. The change is incremental at this point but it's a start.

How many times, as women, do we gather as a group of friends or family, do we talk about our bodies. What we can/can't eat. How "I'm going to be bad tonight" by eating a carbohydrate rich meal? How often do we hear "I have been 'good' all day so I can eat whatever I want!"? How many of our conversations are about our workout routines, the number on the scale, or how well our pants fit? If your family and friends are like mine, it is constant. I am at the point in my life where I just walk away when those discussions begin. And I am done. D O N E. We have more important things to talk about. It is awkward to stand up from a group conversation but for my sanity, I've been doing it. 

This kind of thinking is a fucking disease and I will have NO MORE of it. This may be something that has ruined much of my life, and my self-worth, but it WILL NOT be the plague of my daughters. I will always encourage them to make healthy choices but not because they have to look a certain way, but because I want them to be healthy. Period. Full stop. 

Today I had Chik-Fil-A for lunch. I didn't eat dinner. I have felt guilty all day because of it.  All day. No really, I didn't allow myself to eat after noon because I told myself over and over "you have no self-control. You will NEVER lose weight if you can't pull it together!" I admit, I'm currently the heaviest I have ever been. I don't feel great in my skin. I don't feel healthy. But I am taking baby steps to course-correct a little at a time. I have felt real shame and fear seeing friends that haven't been in my "pandemic circle" the last few months. I have believed that I would be judged or talked about because I have more pounds on my body. That men would say "wow, she used to be pretty but look at her now!" or women would say, "wow, Becky sure has gotten fat!"  For the first time in my life, I have actually considered not showing up to social gatherings because I was ashamed of my body. Me, the extrovert of all extroverts, who misses people more than anything this horrendous year, thought about sitting socially distanced barbecues because I'm 10 pounds more than the last time people saw me. Yet, I would NEVER judge or look down on a girlfriend based on the size and shape of her body. So why do I do it to myself? Oh right.... it was the way I was raised. It is so ingrained in me that I don't know how not to at this point. I

I have had to remind my husband that, while he may have the best intentions, and think he understand what it feels like to be a girl, he never will. He just won't. Men do not live by the same beauty standards as women. Dad-bod is seen as a "cute" thing. Within weeks of having babies women are pressured to get their "pre-baby figures" back. This will not change until more women stand up and say, "ENOUGH." 

I will not stop fighting this. I will continue going to therapy. I will read article about body acceptance. I will follow body-positive social media accounts. I will meditate and write and do what I can to shift my perception. I will work my ass off to ensure that my little girls will grow up confident in their skin, no matter their shape, size, and stye. All that really matters is that my girls grow up to be kind, accepting, open-minded and fighters for the oppressed. 

We all must do better. Women, we can't expect men to look at us differently if we as women can't. We have an entire generation of kids that deserve better than our generation, and all those before us have had. I'll continue to speak up, loudly and obnoxiously. I will call people out. I will call myself out. Because this work isn't easy, but I believe it can be changed.

Love in the time of Corona

Do you ever have the feeling that you are reliving a nightmare day after day? It's like the movie Groundhog Day but rather than Sonny and Cher awakening me each day, the sounds of my children that drive me from my slumber. I stretch, yawn, flip my pillow to the cold side, and for a brief moment I don't remember. I don't remember that the Corona virus has swept through our world. I take a moment to think about what day it is, and whether or not I need to get the kids going for school. And then it hits me. Mother fucker. We are still here. I'm still here. Stuck. At home. With no end in sight. There is no going to work. There is no sending the kids to school. There is nothing to look forward to. There are no vacations anymore, nights at the theater, or game nights with friends. The girls can't go play at grandmas, they can't play at a friends. We are stuck in this and it is so much harder than I could have imagined.

I fully intended on journaling this crisis for my future grandchildren. I envisioned me sitting down at the end of the day, opening my notebook, writing by candlelight and expressing how it all felt. How it feels to have our world unrecognizable. How it feels to be stuck in our home. How it feels to want your mother's arms around you because good grief - you're not cut out for this! How it feels to be really really sad.  How it feels knowing that Seth will soon be working on the front lines, at risk and gone for days. How he'll be at a high risk because we don't have enough protective equipment. How he might get sick. How he might die. How it feels to be angry at the lack of response from our government. How it feels to be heartbroken for friends who have lost work and potentially businesses. How it felt the first time I knew someone with the virus and that it was someone in my family that I absolutely adore. How fear gripped my heart and squeezed until my anxiety overcame me. How I feel utterly hopeless.

To be completely honest and vulnerable, I haven't been writing because many days I am barely coping. And by the time 8:00pm rolls around, and the girls are in bed, I don't have to keep the brave face on anymore. I don't have to pretend that everything is going to be ok and that "mom and dad will protect you." I pour a drink because I need life to have a softer edge. A glass of wine, a stiff martini, a shot of tequila, anything to help numb the day. This can't be reality right? This isn't really happening!

There is a big part of me that knows how silly it is to complain. Really. I have a beautiful home. Seth and I still have jobs. I have been told to stay home. Just stay home. So why is it so brutal? As an extrovert I need to be around people. I love being home but I also go stir-crazy if I am home all day and haven't left the house. I am a gatherer by nature. I love bringing people together. I love hosting parties at my house. I'm at my core a people-person. The loudest one at the party. The more the merrier!

I am restless by nature as well. I never imagined a life where I would be a stay-at-home mom. Part of the reason I had such bad postpartum depression was being stuck at home. I need work. I need to be intellectually challenged. I was more than thrilled to be back to work after a quick 6-8 weeks of maternity. I felt lighter and more balanced as soon as I was back into that routine and out of the house.

I know that all of us are scrambling. Those of us that have kids in school are suddenly faced with home schooling. As much as I knew I could never be a stay-at-home mom, there was ZERO reality in which I would ever be homeschooling my kids. Turns out, I hate it as much as I thought I would and I am even more terrible at it than I ever imagined I would be. I do believe that this week will be the week where we start to settle into a routine. At least for school. With routine I will be more productive as I work from home. I'm trying to raise money during the biggest economic crisis in history. And not just for the youth we serve but for my coworkers to still have a job. It's overwhelming and hard and scary.

So where does this all leave us? What am I learning during this horribly difficult time? I'm learning the healing power of the sun and that nothing brings me more peace than going outside and turning my face toward the warmth. I'm learning that my body has to move. This week wasn't great (see: depression and feeling of doom) but I have been doing yoga and running and it is truly a lifeline. I'm learning that food is a comfort and I haven't been giving my body the right foods to eat. I'm learning that I do love being around my children for 22 days straight (although I absolutely wish I could go out with some friends for the night and get away from them) Kids are resilient and relatively un-phased by all of this. My girls are learning to be the very best of friends. I'm learning that it's really nice to not live by my calendar and not have daily obligations. It's nice to not be constantly running around and feeling behind. I'm learning that I miss the simple things in life: Sunday dinner at Mom's, bunco, the sound of the Spy Hop students each afternoon. I miss my commute and the ability to listen to podcasts during the little "me time" I have each day. I miss knowing that the next big trip is on the horizon. I'm learning that no matter how surreal this time is that I find peace knowing we are all in this together. We are isolating together. We are mourning together. We are mourning for the life we have always had. We are mourning for the sick and the catastrophic deaths that we have seen and will see far more of. We are holding on tight to those that mean the most to us. We are checking in. We are texting, calling, and connecting as much as we can. We are uniting and that brings me hope.

Be gentle with yourselves. Be gentle with your partner/friends/family. Know that some days you will feel ok, you may even feel great. On those days, celebrate it. Dance in your kitchen, go out for a long walk in your neighborhood and talk to those you pass along the way. But also realize that some days will be hard. That motivation will be lost. That wine will be poured and hours of Netflix will be consumed. I genuinely hope that this week I start to settle into this new reality and that I find ways to deal with the anxiety and dread and turn into into something better. That in this time of corona, we all find a way to love it.

Stay strong people. Stay inside. Stay well.

The New & Unimproved Me

I went to my 20-year high school reunion this past weekend. I always assumed I would be excited and eager to go, until reality hit. I am no where near the person that I was when I was 18. In most ways I am grateful for that. Who wouldn't be? I mean other than the number on the scale and the youthful skin, obviously. I was young and clueless. Now I am "wise" and "successful." I should walk into this reunion with my head held high. "This isn't the Becky Avery you remember. This is Becky Youkstetter and I am proud of who I am!"

As the date crept closer and I started taking a lot of strolls down memory lane, I realized that no longer being that 18-year-old version of myself was not necessarily a good thing. Looking back I realized something, that Becky was sweet and really made an effort to be good and kind to everyone. I was as Mormon as they came and prided myself on being a good example to others. I was focused and dedicated to my religion, my school work, my family and my hobbies. I was a really good teenager. Something I hope pays off karmically with my current 7 going on 17-year-old. I genuinely feel like I was an overall good human back then.

Now? Well now this Becky is jaded. She's been divorced and struggles nearly every day to keep her marriage of 10-years alive. She not only isn't religious, she no longer believes in a god. She rarely takes any real time for self-reflection or steps to improve herself. She's horribly out-of-shape and 20 pounds overweight. She drinks way too often. And sometimes goes to parties and drinks way too much. She's set in her ways. She's impatient and she is stubborn. She complains about being a mom and often refers to her children as assholes. Oh - and she talks like a sailor. She can't keep up with her life. She neglects the people that matter most (like her 90-year-old grandma) because she feels like she doesn't have the time. She needs constant approval and acknowledgment from others because her self-esteem is so low. This Becky... right now... she's a hot mess.

I went to the reunion anyway. I pulled up my spanx and hoped that people wouldn't whisper behind my back about "how much weight Becky gained." I felt anxious but walked into the country club with my head held high and my gorgeous best friend in tow. And you know, it wasn't that bad. It was great, in fact. I spent time talking to people that I barely knew in high school. The cool kids, the jocks and the cheerleaders. Turns out I really enjoyed getting to know them and think that I may have found some new friends. I hung out with some of the best people I know and rekindled friendships that have long been overdue. I had a really wonderful time.

The next day I heard something that shook me to my core. Someone didn't go to the reunion because I was going to be there. That I was absolute trash of a person, who was awful on Facebook and even worse in person. This person (not sure who it is) is so disgusted by me that they couldn't even come to a place where there were over 100 other people. I am that bad.

I'm still shaken and have really been focused on who I am now. I have thought back to the reunion and I have found myself wondering how I was perceived at the event. I was so focused on feeling like I belonged that I drank way too much. I apologized over and over to people about how "righteous" and "annoying" I was in high school. I was rude and loud and tried to portray a confident woman and I think I made an ass out of myself.

My dear, kind and sober girlfriends drove me to the afterparty. I laughed when they asked if I was going to be ok inside the bar. Part of me was likely priding myself on how much I knew about alcohol and how clueless they were. Now I just feel like an ass. They have been there for 22-years in my life and now I'm embarrassed to see them again.

I keep thinking to myself, "Don't let one person's opinion bother you. Don't let them shake you. You are a good person Becky." But I can't let this one go. I can't let it go because the hatred of me was so strong. I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea - but I must not see myself clearly if someone considers me trash.

I feel like I have reached a crossroads. I can either wallow in self-pity (trust me, I am deep in that right now), drink heavily and think, "fuck that person!" Or I can work on myself. I can start doing things to help myself. For years I have wanted to do more for myself. I have wanted to write, do yoga, meditate, read inspiring books, visit my grandmother weekly but I never have made the time. My kids are entering an easier phase, I should be able to shift. I'm not always bone-tired when they are in bed anymore (still often though). I can cut out people and things in my life that no longer bring out the best in me. If I can improve ME I will improve all aspects of my life. My husband will like me more. I'll be a better mom. I'll be a better friend. I'll be a much better version of me. Because I need to. It's time.

I doubt the person that said those things will ever read or see this. To that person, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for whatever I have done to cause you to feel so much hatred toward me. I know I'm not always a good person. I make mistakes. I do stupid things. So thank you pointing this out - for causing me to question who I am to my core and for pushing me in the right direction. I doubt you will ever care for me, but maybe your hatred will lessen to dislike instead. Maybe I'll see you at our 30-year reunion. Maybe I'll be tolerable by then.

Holding On for Dear Life

Last night I had invited family and a few neighbors over to celebrate Matilda's 4th birthday. It wasn't anything major, just cake and ice-cream. I had watched the weather forecast go from a beautiful sunny and warm day to a cold rainy day. I was really hoping to have everyone outside, but alas, it's Spring in Utah. Change of plans. I had to hurry to make sure the house was ready for a huge gathering. We got a pet bunny the day before and there was overall chaos in my house. A few hours before everyone was set to arrive, I was frantically baking two cakes, cleaning the house and putting out tables and chairs. I hadn't sat down in hours. My feet hurt, my body ached from the barre class I went to that morning. I was cross with the girls and neighbor kids for running through the house, making more messes when all I wanted to do was get everything cleaned and set up so I could hurry and cook dinner before 25 people arrived.

Suddenly I got a text from my mom (just a few hours before the party was about to start). "What about Grandma? Is she coming?"

My heart sank. I'd tried so hard to make this work, to hold it all together,  but I failed.

I completely forgot to invite my adorable and wonderful 89-year-old grandma. A mistake I had made a mere two months ago for Millie's birthday.

I frantically tried calling her but couldn't reach her. I left her a message and said we were having cake and ice-cream that evening and to let me know if she wanted to come so we could come and pick her up. I never heard back. Sooner than I needed it to be, it was 6:30pm and the party began to arrive. I was frantically shoveling dinner in my mouth because - surprise surprise - I didn't get dinner finished in time.

The party went fine and people had fun. Tilda was over the moon about her gifts and her cake.

By 8:00pm everyone was gone. The party was mostly cleaned up. The girls were in bed and I was exhausted. But first, I had to fold laundry since I had zero time to catch up with it that weekend. Finally Seth and I collapsed in bed.

The next morning my mom told me to call her. "This is going to make you sad, but grandma thinks you don't like her. That you don't want to spend time with her."

You know those moments where you feel the world drop out from under you. Those moments where no matter how hard you try you know you failed with a giant F? This was one of those moments. I could never dislike my grandma. Ever. In no reality would that happen.

Yet, here I am. My actions have caused her to think that. And you know what? It feels like shit. I feel like shit. I don't spend time with her. I don't and the realization that my time with her is limited makes me sick to my stomach.  When I worked at KUER and had 1 kid, I went to see her often because I had a day a week at home. I had a day to be home with Millie. A day where I could take care of doctor appointments, laundry and yes...I'd take some time to go see Grandma. I don't have that anymore. I have a much more demanding job. I work 5 days a week. Seth works every other weekend. I'm trying to stay afloat but the truth is: I am drowning.

Working moms - do we have it all? In some ways, sure. The reality however, is much different. The reality is realizing on a Tuesday morning that I haven't invited anyone to Matilda's birthday that coming weekend. It means stopping whatever task I am supposed to be doing at work to take some time to text all of the family about said party. Grandma doesn't text (again, she's 89) so I didn't invite her. I simply sent the text and then likely ran out the door to a lunch meeting. The reality is realizing that you forgot to take treats to your kid's preschool class for her birthday. The reality is, your first-grader is disappointed that you can't chaperone her field trip to see Alice in Wonderland that week. The reality is, you daily have to choose between taking care of yourself and getting a workout in (which lord knows you need being 30 pounds overweight) - or seeing your kids for 2 hours before they go to bed instead of 3. The reality is your brain is constantly pulled in a thousand different directions. From Millie's sassy back-talking and Tilda not sleeping through the night, to submitting a $500k grant proposal. From working on your struggling marriage to inviting potential donors to a benefit. It's sending emails to board members and then stressing out about whether or not you should sign Millie up for horseback riding and Tilda for swimming lessons. And that hedge in the backyard? It needs to be trimmed - so I need to find time to get bids for someone to come trim it. It's then switching to putting together an agenda for my capital campaign committee.

This is my reality. It's ugly, it's overwhelming and I feel like I am half-assing everything in my life. And I try, I try so hard to create systems and processes to make my life run smoothly. I meal plan and shop on the weekends. I keep work to-do lists, home to-do lists, shopping lists, etc. I try and keep up with the laundry. I try to sort through the girl's backpacks and make sure we do some homework. I try to find fun activities to do on the weekends but lately I just need to stay home to get caught up. Each week feels like a marathon and then I have the weekends, not to rest, but to plan for the next marathon of a week. By Wednesday I'm exhausted. I get home from work, don't follow the meal plans because I just don't. want. to. cook. again. I throw the kids some scrambled eggs and drink some wine. The house is a mess again. I don't sleep and I just try and keep my head above water.

I can hear everyone now - SIMPLIFY Becky! You don't need to have a clean house (even though the mess makes me feel 10xs more anxious when it's a messa). Maybe you should cut some things out like mentoring, bunco, and all the other things you do outside of work and home? Hire someone to clean your house! Hire someone to mow your lawn! You aren't that fat...give yourself some grace.

All very valid options. But that's not the way I think.

I think, maybe I need to just work harder. Watch less Netflix. Stay up late and wake up earlier. Workout before the kids get up in the morning. Practice mindfulness. Clean the house after the kids go to bed. Blog or start that podcast that you've been talking about for years!

I just don't know how. I don't know how to be a good mom and still keep our family running smoothly. I don't know how to be a successful fundraiser when I have to be home on-time each day in order to see my kids and not fail as a mom. I don't know how to be there for my grandma when I can't be there for myself. I realize I can't do it all, I just can't.

In the meantime, I'll just keep trying. Because my kids may not do fun Easter Crafts like I envisioned, but they are loved. I may not be the best fundraiser I can be right now, but I'm still going to work hard until I am. I may not be comfortable in a swimming suit - but I still plan on putting one on and jumping in that pool on Memorial weekend.

Sometimes I do think I am gracefully faking it. Now is not one of those times. Right now I'm more of the "holding on for dear life" kind of woman.

I Was So Wrong 2018

2018 has come and gone. I sat down intending to write an eloquent blog about overcoming so much in 2018 and how 2019 is going to be so much better. Yet as I flipped through pictures on my phone, I realized that 2018 wasn't all that bad. In fact, it was pretty damn good. Sure it had its really odd and hard times. I felt myself challenged and doubting myself more than I wish I had. But I came out the other side. Turns out I am really grateful for 2018. Here are some of my favorite moments.

January

In January my sister told me she was going to fly to Oklahoma City to help her son Parker propose to his girlfriend. He met his soon-to-be fiance on their mission. The two were taking a trip back to see the people that they met during their time there and he wanted to propose. January in Oklahoma City? Cold. So so cold. And he wanted to propose outside? Well....ok! My sister is a magic maker. She brought suitcases of supplies and had boxes more shipped to a friend there. And then we set about our business. We hung hundreds of lights, candles and lanterns in this remote park overlooking a pond. We spent 5 hours in the 12 degree weather setting up the PERFECT proposal sight. It was so fun to see these lovebirds get engaged. It was worth every frozen finger and toe.

February

Seth, Millie and I all have February birthdays. After nearly killing myself creating a magical My Little Pony birthday party for Millie, I decided I wanted to get out of town and go to away with Seth. For our birthday weekend went went to Zion. We spent three days in Springdale where we nearly froze (it was unseasonably cold) but hiked some amazing and uncrowded hikes. We ate a lot of great meals, stayed in an amazing hotel and just enjoyed time together. It was just what we needed.

March

I fell in love with the desert this year. Absolutely head-over-heels in love with the red rocks and the way they offer such a stark contrast to the bright blue sky. I loved the feel of the sun on my face when escaping the cold, smoggy air of Salt Lake City. I was mesmerized by the cacti blooming in the spring. The desert is my place. Luckily my job at KUER had me spending time in Southern Utah the first 5 months of the year. I spent several weekends there alone and absolutely felt refreshed by it. I need to go back.

April

At last the smog cleared, and Spring arrived. I didn't realize how amazing Spring was until I had kids that have been cooped up in the house all winter. Those early warm days are some of the best of the year. There is nothing better than sitting outside on a perfectly cool evening enjoying the blossoms.

April also turned out to be my last time on-air at KUER. I didn't know I was leaving at the time, but the fund drives were always a highlight of my time there. I still can't listen to the fund drives. It feels too weird to not be part of it anymore.

May

One word can sum-up May: Hamilton. After obsessing for months and months over this musical I finally saw it. In fact, I saw a lot of amazing theater in Salt Lake this year. Hamilton, Waitress, Come from Away, Sweeney Todd, etc. Hamilton was almost everything I wanted it to be (come on, couldn't we have cast a better Washington?) My friend Timms and I met the cast after, I rode Trax with Aaron Burr...sir. It was a great night.

In May we also took a vacation and found the beach. The bottom picture of Tilda with her binky is one of my favorites. We said goodbye for good to the binky after this trip. It was refreshing and wonderful to get away.

June

And just like that, it was Summer. The season I usually dread. But the summer gods smiled upon me and gave me owls and my love of summer was solidified. One evening in June I received a text from my neighbor saying "There is an owl in our backyards!" We went outside and saw a baby owl flying around. I was hooked. We soon discovered that we had an entire nest of Western Screech Owls in our back yard and it was pretty much the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. They turned a summer-hater into a summer-lover. I spent nearly every night for 7-8 weeks outside watching my owls. They weren't shy and I would often get within feet of them. I tried to make them love me. I talked to them. I offered them hotdogs...but before long....they flew the nest. I was devastated. But really, they were the greatest summer surprise.

My sister-in-law moved to a gated community just up the street. We spent many Sundays at the pool. Which, normally is not my thing. This year? LOVED it. The girls were happy to swim and swim. I was happy to sun and chat with my family. Pretty dreamy.

Finally, I said goodbye to KUER at the end of June...I already wrote extensively about my love of KUER. It was a hard place to say goodbye to.

July

Seth and I took another weekend jaunt together after I finished at KUER, and before I started my new job at United Way. We decided another weekend hiking was the best idea, and it was. We stayed at an amazing rental, a tiny cabin in Wyoming. We went into Jackson Hole for the day. We did puzzles while drinking wine and listening to records. And we hiked to the top of Table Rock in the Tetons. I nearly died. But it was beautiful. Oh and we spent hours listening to the podcast "My Dad Wrote A Porno." One of the highlights of the entire year was when Seth laughed so hard while we were listening that he nearly threw up. Listen people. Trust me.

I also started my new job at United Way of Salt Lake in July. This month was a blur. It was exhausting and overwhelming being the new girl at such a BIG place. But I eventually got my feet under me.

August

We rounded out summer in August with outdoor concerts, movies, swimming and barbecues. I actually had so many wonderful nights in August. WHO AM I!? Oh, apparently I'm a girl who finally loves summer. I found a way to live with the sweat. Summer may be hot, but I don't have to keep my girls entertained constantly. The doorbell rings early in the morning and neighborhood kids come wandering in with bedhead and pajamas and begin their hours of playing We don't rush to get kids off to school in the morning so mornings are far less stressful. Bedtime is stretched to accommodate swinging as the sun sets. We eat outside, play games outside, color outside. I would come home many nights to an army of kids riding bikes and scooters in our circle. I got to continue honing my greenish thumb. Summer is pretty great you guys. But lets not get carried away, nothing is better than Fall.

September

And just like that, my baby was off to preschool. The evenings cooled down. I started baking.

Sweet cinnamon pumpkin candles were lit 60% of the time in my home. Fall was coming. And I was sick as a dog for a couple weeks. The leaves began to change and it finally was cool. My season was here.

I wish I could describe how much I love autumn. It's just when I feel best and most alive. I move indoors and create a coziness in my home again. I feel focused and happy. It's the most beautiful time of year. Nothing beats it. The smells, the activities, the sights. It's all damn near perfect.

October

We were back to the desert in October for a family vacation. It was so needed after a few stressful months at a new job. Family vacations are starting to feel like actual vacations. Finally. I mean, it's not as refreshing as trips sans children, but we do get some time to sleep and rest. We had a great time with the Youkstetters. We always do.

Halloween is my favorite holiday. This year I didn't have my big Halloween party, which bummed me out. Last year I learned over and over again that I can't do everything. I had to simplify where I could. So I didn't have a party although it broke my heart. I did have some neighbors over for chili before heading out to trick-or-treat. The adults carried cocktails and the kids ran from house to house. It was ridiculously fun. I love this group of people. How did I get so lucky to move where I did?

November

November wasn't too eventful but I did get to spend time with these lovely ladies. Which made me realize how great 2018 was for friends. I don't think it's common to find a new group of friends in your late 30s but I have had so much fun with this amazing group. Some are old friends that I have reconnected with after 15 years. Others are brand new. But man I have had a great time and a great year thanks to these people.

I feel so lucky to have so many good friends. New friends, old friends, work friends, etc. I'm a lucky woman.

December

And then there was London. Seth surprised me in September. It was a particularly hard weekend. I was sick, the girls were sick and Seth was sick. I was cooped up and feeling depressed when he said, "How do you feel about going to London in December?" Well duh! This will have it's own blog post, but we went for 3 days and 3 nights to the greatest city in the world. He loved it like I love it. It was pure magic. More to come...it really deserves its own blog.

We rounded out 2018 with an overly packed Christmas. It was exhausting but so much fun. Our girls are just at the perfect ages. They had fun with the damn Elf on the Shelf every morning. We did all the typical holiday activities. We baked, we decorated, we went on the Polar Express, we drover through lights, we saw Santa, etc. I nearly exhausted myself trying to create memories for them.

It was all worth it on Christmas morning. It really was perfect. They were so happy, so excited and I was just filled with joy. I love being their mom.

I went into 2018 with high hopes for myself. I was going to lose those 20 pounds. I was going to get off my depression meds. I was going to find "me" again. It wasn't until I started gathering my thoughts for this blog that I realized I've always been here. It wasn't perfect but it really was a remarkable year. I changed jobs but survived. My marriage was rocky at times but we overcame the problems again and again. My family suffered through addiction issues but everyone is alive. We made it. We didn't just make it, it was a great year. I feel guilty for thinking it was so awful. It wasn't. It was great. Who cares about that 20 pounds...there is always 2019.

My Love Note to KUER

I feel as if I'm in a bit of a mourning period. I just closed the door to such an important and fulfilling chapter in my life. After nearly 8 years I said goodbye to my dream job at KUER. I'm sure you are wondering, "Well if it was your dream job, they why did you leave?" I left because it was time. I left because I was ready to feel uncomfortable in a job again. I was ready to move, stretch, grow and take-off into the unknown.


That doesn't mean I am not scared. I am. I'm terrified.

I've blogged before about what public radio means to me and why I feel it is so important. I grew up in a family that didn't listen to NPR. Hell, I didn't even know what NPR was until I was dating Seth. We were on our way to the farmer's market in August of 2005 and we were talking about the devastation of Hurricane Katrina. He just kept telling me all of these facts and stories that he knew and had heard. Now, I had paid attention to the news but I had not a heard anything like he was telling me. I remember exasperatedly saying to him, "Where are you hearing these stories!?" He calmly responded, "I listen to KUER." I questioned him, "What is KUER?"

I started listening that day and from that day on I felt my entire understanding of the world begin to shift. It didn't have to do with so-called "liberal propaganda." It had everything to do the human voice. It wasn't some reporter standing on the banks of the flood waters in New Orleans telling me what was happening. It was a reporter handing the microphone to a person, and rather than me having any visual and pre-conceived judgment of a person, I simply heard a voice. A voice that was in complete distress. I heard a human hurting and I hurt for them. From that moment on I was hooked. I started listening every day and haven't stopped since. It became a bit of an obsession. There was so much about politics and the world that I never understood. But NPR had a way of slowing the news down and explaining things. Not telling me what I should believe, not screaming at me, not throwing talking heads on to spew their opinions....they just reported the news...with real voices. It was like the world had cracked open and I couldn't absorb all of the new ideas and knowledge fast enough. It changed me. It still changes me and challenges me every day. That's why I still listen. That's why I will always listen. And that's why I will continue to tell people about public radio and share with them why it is so important to listen. Because truthfully it has made me who I am today. A more empathetic person, a more informed citizen and a more involved member of our community.


Needless to say, when I saw a job opening at KUER I knew I had to jump on it. I remember getting a call from Susan Kropf the day after I submitted my application and almost screamed. I was SO excited ... it was THE Susan that I heard talk on the radio. We scheduled an interview and I drove down to Salt Lake (I was living in Boise at the time) to meet the staff. I remember leaving the interview, excitedly calling Seth and saying, "Those are MY PEOPLE!" I was offered the job and I was elated.

As I've looked back on my time at KUER I think of how much I have personally changed. When I started I wasn't even 30 yet. I had no kids yet and was able to just dive-into the job. I remember being so excited to meet Doug Fabrizio, and still after a couple years of working there would get tongue-tied around him. I remember Spring of 2011 was my very first fund drive. I arrive at 5:30am and clapped in complete astonishment and excitement when the first call came into the phone room. The first time they asked me to talk on the radio I was sweating I was so nervous. I called and told everyone and made sure to tell them to tune-in. I couldn't believe I was so lucky. On my last fund drive, I asked someone to cover my shift during All Things Considered, I was just too burned out to talk more. 29-year-old me would never have believed it.

Here I am, firmly headed toward middle-age, a good twenty pounds heavier, a mom of two, certainly more jaded, but I think much more wise. I have changed a lot since I started but I couldn't have asked for a better place to take me through these years. KUER was incredibly nurturing to me as a pregnant woman.

I was so lucky. I was encouraged to nap at work, my boss even brought me a mat to sleep on.  They brought me a zero-gravity chair and snacks. I was spoiled and taken care of through the entire process, but never more-so than after.

The men and women of KUER were great but there was a special sisterhood among the development women. I remember one evening, I was still on maternity leave with Matilda and my former boss Susan was hosting a girl's night at her house. I was deep in postpartum depression but knew getting out would be helpful. I arrived at Susan's and was immediately swarmed with friendly smiles and faces. I remember my coworker Ja'Naye asking me how I was and I just burst immediately into tears. She said, "It's ok. We have you. You're here now. We've got Matilda. You are good." I was completely enveloped into their care and I'll never forget that night. I never held the baby. I got a moment to breathe. THAT was what made KUER special. The friendships. They were there for me through two babies, marriage rough spots, the loss of my father-in-law, and lots of family heart-ache If I needed to go home early, it wasn't ever an issue. If I needed to come to work...and just sit in my office to get AWAY from the drama at home, that was ok too. That support system was vital and really helped me survive those rough years. I'm so grateful to each of them. I can't imagine I'll ever find that kind of support again.

Working for KUER was also just mentally stimulating. Do you know how great it is to walk into your office and say, "Can you believe what the president tweeted about today!?" and everyone knows exactly what you are talking about? Or ... after a particularly heated RadioWest to stand around and talk about the topic further. I loved diving into discussions about politics, films, TV shows, art, etc. Everyone there was so interesting. People who were as ticked off about air pollution as I am. I remember the day after the 2016 election, it was like a funeral in the office. Everyone was upset. But everyone was there because we all had jobs to do.

One job I always asked potential hires was, "How do you feel about profanity?" because boy do the people there love to swear as much as me. We are one loud group of opinionated people. We had lunch breaks where we would sit around our conference room table and laugh so hard we would cry, talking about life, kids, sex, money... ANYTHING. Our office was an open book and you never knew what you were going to read.

And then there were my donors.  They weren't "my donors" but I began to refer to them that way because they started to feel like "my people". What I learned from my donors was something that I'll never forget. First, live an active and full life. I love being home but I never want to be a homebody. I love that my donors loved to come to any and everything that I offered them. Wine tastings, discussions about gun-control, live lectures, concerts and operas, cooking classes, etc. They came to everything. They got out of the house and they got involved in their community and I absolutely admire them for that. I remember many times people emailing me and saying, "Now what do we have tickets to tonight? Who is the band? I haven't even heard of them but apparently they are good so we didn't want to miss out!" Yes! That is absolutely how I want to live my life. I want to live it to the fullest. I want to meet people, stay busy and expose myself to all kinds of entertainment, discussions and ideas as I possibly can. I want to walk into a room of people, not caring if I don't know another soul, and know that I could potentially meet a new friend that night. I want to travel the world and see different cultures and countries. I want to step out of my comfort zone. Because that is how you live. So thank you. Thank you for being such amazing examples of living a full life. I hope to emulate that.

It's time to move on. It's time to try my hand at another organization. It's time to get uncomfortable again. To meet new coworkers and donors. It's time to learn a new system. To show-up on-time and be on my A-game again. Because KUER and "my people" will never be far. All I have to do is turn on my radio. Or walk around Red Butte, or show up at a rally or a community event. You are everywhere that is anywhere. You always will be. I'll never forget these remarkable 8 years. They very well may be some of the best of my life.

Keep listening. I know I will.

The Mental Load

Today I feel crushed. I can't focus. I can't work. I can't cross even the easiest of tasks off my list. And the fact that I feel so incapacitated is just adding to my stress. My brain is just spinning. What is wrong with me? How come other moms seem to have it all together but I am barely hanging on for dear life?

I've been thinking a lot about the mental load. A load that, at least in my relationship, falls much more heavily on mom. It's the last week of school. Which apparently, since I am so new to the "kids in school" concept, is busy. Tonight we have another school activity. It starts at 5:30 and lasts until 7:30. Last night I mentioned to Seth, "Oh man, we have the dance thing tomorrow, ugh." He looked at me exasperatedly and said, "You need to stop complaining about the things you need to do as a mom. We have 12 more years of this. 12 more years of school activities. Get used to it."

This stung. It stung because I felt guilty. Guilty that I wasn't looking forward to seeing my kid dance. Guilty because I am seeing the night as more stress than fun. But it also stung because it is so much more than just showing up at an event. I get off work at 5. Traffic leaving the university can be gnarly, will I even make it on-time? And what about Millie? How am I going to get her there early? Will I remember to have our nanny change her into the green shirt she is supposed to wear? Oh shit, is that even clean? And what about dinner? When will we have dinner? Oh! Food trucks will be there. That's good. But my kids don't eat normal food. So it'll be a waste of money. Hum. Maybe I'll just bring snacks? Great! Another night of granola bars and cheeze-its. Matilda is sick. Is she going to be whiny and miserable at 5:30 like she has been the last 3 nights? How will I handle it if she is sick? Maybe I'll just stay home with her. I can miss one thing for Millie. Wait, remember how Millie said to me a few days ago, "Can't you just quit work? We miss you and we see way more of Rylee than we see of you!" Mom guilt. The greatest amount of mom guilt I have ever felt. Clearly I can't miss it. Ok, think Becky...how can you make this work? Millie can go early with Mira. I can run home and pick up Tilda, pack a few snacks and head to the school. I'll have to leave work early, which sucks, because I am snowed under, but OK. I will do it. We can eat a late dinner. And even if Tilda doesn't eat much, she'll drink milk and juice tonight and that'll fill her up.

Crap! We are out of juice. Matilda had a breakdown last night when you put her to bed because we are out of juice. Don't forget to stop and get juice. Also, don't forget it's Teacher Appreciation Week! You keep forgetting to send a gift with Millie. Apparently you were supposed to send flowers on Monday, a treat on Tuesday, etc. What in the world will I send? And do I send it for just her main teacher? Or should I include the academy teachers? Crap. I need to run and do that tonight after Seth gets home and the kids are in bed. Oh, he's going to a movie tonight. Ok! I'll find a time to do it today! Maybe after my lunch meeting?

This. This is my brain today. This is just a small fraction of what I am thinking and worrying about.

12 more years of school stuff. He's right. Buck up girl. Yet, he doesn't deal with even 1/4 of what I deal with. When Seth works, he just works. He can't leave for school programs. I'm lucky to have the flexibility with me job to be able to leave. I've volunteered a handful of times at her school. I've been a chaperone on field trips. I have bought and put together the Valentine's for her party. I brought the treats for her birthday to her class. I figured out the Halloween costume and was there taking pictures at the parade. I've signed the permission forms. I've taken her to assessment and been 2 hours late to work. I've rearranged the nanny's schedule when school is off unexpectedly. I get the emails from schools. I get calls when she is sick. I run to Costco and buy snacks when asked to pitch in.

The list goes on and on. This. This is the mental load. This is what I carry around. This is just one portion of the mental load of everyday life. I think that moms keep the list of things we can't forget to buy at the store. It's mom that remembers if there is a load of laundry waiting to be folded in the dryer. It's mom that notices how dirty that bathrooms are. It's mom that worries about getting both girls signed up for some fun summer classes. I'm the one that notices if Matilda doesn't have the right pair of summer shoes for her constant scooter riding. I'm the one that meal plans and does the majority of the cooking. It just never gets easier. Sometimes I'm at a phase in my life where I feel like I do have the ability to balance it all. But right now, I sure don't. I'm drowning. I'm not a very good mom, and I'm a super unfocused employee....when I can't afford to be and I'm a crap family member and spouse.

Can someone come and just scoop the overwhelming thoughts out of my brain? Cause I need to function. I need to pick up the pieces of my life and start getting shit done again

Gracefully faking it? Ha. Right.

Are you there God? It's me Becky

The other night I was having a conversation with my cousin and sister-in-law about religion and spirituality. It's been nearly 13 years since I have left Mormonism. The three of us talked about our various journeys away from the church. For a few years after I left, I still felt the need to be close to God. I thought about attending another denomination, but nothing felt quite right. I tried to pray, but praying to a God that wasn't the Mormon God I always thought I knew, felt weird. When times got tough, I started asking for help from my family members that have already passed.

At first, it was my grandpa. Losing him was incredibly hard. He left such a gaping hole in our family and in my heart. I still miss him. I suppose I always will. When I was struggling I would often talk out loud to him. That brought me peace.

 As time has gone by, I have stopped praying completely. I couldn't tell you the last time I actually knelt down and prayed. I haven't felt that my life was really missing something. I have began to wonder if I really even believe in a God or a higher being. I've started thinking of myself as agnostic. I don't know. And honestly, I'm ok with that. For the first 20 or so years of my life, I did believe in God. I believed fully. In this phase in my life, I'm just sitting with the idea that there may not be a God. I can't guarantee that I will always feel this way, but for now, I am just trying to let it be.

Interestingly enough, I feel like I have grown into a more compassionate and loving person without religion in my life. I don't look at people and think that they are somehow missing out on some truth. I don't look at people as sinners. I feel like each of us have our own needs and own beliefs that help sustain us through this life. Some absolutely love and need religion and I am completely ok with that. For others, living a life that is accepting, open and focused on equality is enough. I don't mean to imply that those who choose to a religious life are somehow less open. Not at all. I really just am explaining my own path and how I feel it has shaped me.

When I was talking with the girls that night I mentioned a question that I seem to keep bumping up against in this phase. Can I believe in an afterlife and not believe in God? I absolutely believe that our loved-ones are still around. I wouldn't say I believe in "heaven" or "hell" but I do think that they are still "here". Whether that be in some sort of spirit or other realm. I have had too many experiences in my life with family member that is no longer here. I have seen my great-grandmother kneeling next to my bed when I woke up in the middle of the night. She didn't frighten me at all. She smiled, stood up and was gone. I was going through my divorce at the time and I believe she was there to watch over me. When I was really suffering from postpartum depression, I asked my grandma that had passed away just days before, to help me that night.

When Matilda woke up in the middle of the night, I walked into her nursery and smelled roses. The smell was so strong, that it completely stopped me in my tracks. I looked around her nursery thinking, "Maybe Seth brought me roses and put them in here?" Of course, there was nothing. The next day when I sent a message to my aunt Kristy and told her I had a neat experience the night before she said, "You smelled roses didn't you? That's her. That's when she is around." These are just a couple of experiences I have had. But they have been powerful enough for me to believe that life doesn't end when we die.

And then there is David.

Losing my father-in-law was and still is a heart-wrenching experience. The past year and a half has been one of the hardest times of my life. When Seth and I were struggling through our worst times...times when I really thought one or the other would be walking out the door...I asked David for help. In those couple of completely hopeless times, after pleading to David, I have felt things shift. Instantly. And I have been so grateful for him and his guidance.

As I was mentioning this, I had a realization...maybe it wasn't David helping me at all. Maybe it was God.

I think in a way we are all God. David is God. My grandpa is God. I am God. We are all God.

This spiritual journey continues to evolve. I have been thinking a lot about prayer the last few weeks. Prayer used to bring me a lot of peace. I'm realizing that what makes prayer so powerful is the introspection that comes from the act. Prayer causes you to stop, slow down and think about your flaws, your pain and your gratitude. You think about what you could personally work on. "Help me be more patient. Help me be more kind. Help me be a better wife/mother/daughter" Plus the simple act of being grateful makes a person happier. How many of us have a gratitude journal? And then you shift to thinking of those in your life that need help. You stop thinking about yourself and think of them. What a beautiful thing. Maybe I need to pray again. Or meditate. Something that allows me to slow-down, refocus and find ways to be better.

So no, right now I don't believe in a higher-power. But I do believe in the higher-power of us. And of me. And for now, that feels like more than enough.