Sonya & Kris

Frenchie, Uncle Mike, and I had a great time in Mexico. He got a little sick, not the throwing up sick, but his muscles were hurting him, and he was fatigued. He loved Mexico and said over and over again, "I can see why Eric loves it here; it's beautiful."

I love spending time with him and have learned more about my Belshe family than I ever wanted to know. I found out the Belshe family is filled with family members who have had cancer, strokes, and autoimmune diseases. I guess that answered a lot of my questions about my health. I have had all of those things happen to me, cancer, mini-stroke, and horrible autoimmune diseases. Uncle Mike also told me that there are many Belshes who suffer from mental illness. Some won't admit it because they don't want to sound weak. Now, this one I don't understand, and not because I don't have mental issues but because the Belshe family wants everyone to think they are superior to the rest of us and mental illness would never be "their" problem.

Oh well, it's a learning curb for me hearing all of this stuff. I had to pull it out of Uncle Mike. He doesn't talk about people and doesn't want me to think anything different about his siblings. No doubt Sonya and Kris have mental issues. I guess I have to give them a break since mental illness is passed down from generation. 

Eric, I still cannot forgive my sisters for not contacting me after you passed away. I can't get over how many times you pulled them out of financial situations without asking for anything back from them, and they can't send a text saying, "Sorry to hear about Eric." I have let so much of their crap bother me over the years, but I am done, for sure, with both of them. They remind me of my mother; if they act like it didn't happen, then they don't have to do something about it. Sonya and Greg were more worried about their reputation or Justen's repetition as a surgeon than they were about how Haleigh was doing or the facts. The fact is Justen told you and I in Bishop Greer's office that he sexually molested Haleigh. The details he told us made me sick. How could Kris and Sonya think what he did was ok? They don't, but admitting what he did shows weakness on their side, and how could they ever admit weakness? It leads me to wonder if they were ever molested by Gary. Sonya said he touched her boobs one time, and Kris has never discussed it, only to say she was molested too. I protected Kris by making sure I was the one who slept in Gary's bed so Kris wouldn't have to. I understand now why they were adamant about knowing what happened to me. 

I'm happy I didn't share that with them. You are the ONLY person I have ever admitted to what happened to me. I'm not sure why I told you about that when we were in Hawaii, mostly because I knew you wanted to know everything. I kept some of that secret for so long because I didn't want you to be disappointed in me. Thank you for letting me share those intimate, disgusting details with you and not judging me. I love that I could finally share all of that with you after all these years. You held me, said you were sorry this happened to me, and wished you could have protected me. I love you even more for understanding and sympathizing with the situation I was forced into. I don't regret not telling you. My therapist thought it would be best that I didn't because it was not going to help you forgive my parents. It would only push you to the edge of wanting to kill Gary. 

I love you and miss you so much. I wish grieving wives could have one time when the veil is lifted, and we could see what our husbands are doing all day. I remember telling you about the experience I had with your mom and dad when I was resuscitated during surgery. I don't think you believed me, but now you know. Heaven is beautiful, and everything we have been taught about our life after death is true. Knowing you are doing good things with your mom, I have made peace with you leaving me. I can see now how Heavenly Father was preparing me for your death. I have had many dreams where I am with your mom, and you asked me one time after I had a dream, "Why don't I ever dream?" I now know exactly where you are, but not sure what you are doing. Now, you are living in the world I want to live in. No judgment, no comparisons, and a lot of love and serenity. Enjoy my love.

I am looking forward to the CHOSEN starting in September. For some reason, watching the new season will bond me even closer to you. XOXO

Love Shouldn't Hurt

 

WEDNESDAY, MAY 22, 2013

Love Shouldn't Hurt

Some people who have felt the deep scars of inadequacy after being abused may take longer to heal and recover, whether spiritually, physically, verbally, sexually, or mentally. Still, it should never hurt when you love or are loved. This truth took me many years to figure out.

Being abused as a child leaves open wounds that can take years to remove, and in many cases, those open wounds never completely heal. As the years pass and the abuse continues, the victim often molds into the life they've been accustomed to. In other words, it becomes NORMAL the perpetrator is in control, and he/she wins the battle.

Constant hyper-critical words can invalidate or erase the occasional words of affirmation the victim may hear.

EXAMPLE: I was told I was ugly, too skinny, too stupid, and ignored when trying so desperately to be heard and acknowledged as a child/teenager. As a result, I went to school every day believing it was true--So I was not a great student.

I remember a couple of times being validated by teachers I will never forget:
In first grade (yes, I remember this far back), Mrs. Davis told me the winter tree I had drawn was the "Best" she'd ever seen--another example was Mrs. Fish, my 2nd-grade teacher. We were given a project to draw an insect and label the parts and the anatomy. I spent hours on it; Mrs. Fish loved it so much that she asked if she could keep it and use it for future students to see. She wanted to frame it and hang it in her room. I will never forget that moment. Those two compliments got me through elementary school.

One time in middle school, I can remember my mom telling me one day, "Monya, you have the great ability to forgive, forget and move on" I really don't remember why or the context of the entire conversation, all I remember is how it made me feel, she noticed me, something about me she liked.

I remember this so vividly, exactly where I was standing in our living room and even what I was wearing. Those words of affirmation, although brief, validated me. Those words have stayed with me for life. I absolutely do not blame my mother. Now, as an adult, I realize she was doing the best she could do, and who am I to decide what another person's "best" is?

Even though I had never heard "I Love You" until I met Eric's mother. Those three little words are worthless unless you can show them. So, even if I had heard those words as a child, I think it would have messed me up even more. A person who smacks their wife or kids around one day, then the next day says, "I Love You," does not know what LOVE is. This behavior is painful and confusing. 

I can honestly confess that I can't remember loving myself until I started my cancer journey. The chronic betrayal I endured for years forced me to stop loving and trusting myself. Irreversible damage was done---I am a typical "textbook" victim of abuse; it is typical for the victims to feel unnecessarily guilty. My main concern as a child was my mom. If I told her what was happening when she was not home, one of two things could happen:

1. She'd leave him and be forced to suffer through another divorce
or
2. He would kill her, me, or my sisters (the textbook threats of a perpetrator)

Either way, these choices were not an option for me because I would have caused this awful pain my mother would have to endure. I can't believe I thought this, as most abuse victims do.

My biological father, Colby, indulged in drugs and alcohol in the '60s. My mom was so young and "in love" that they were high school sweethearts. His family loved her; he was "in love" with her, and they married very young. One night in a drunken/drugged rage, he hit me upside the head, broke my eardrum, and then passed out on the sofa. When my mother came home from work, she found her three-year-old little blonde girl sobbing, holding my ear, blood running down my arm, and she immediately took me to the ER. From that point on, throughout my childhood years, I endured many, many surgeries trying to repair the damage. To this day, I am deaf in my right ear. My mother divorced Colby. It was devastating to him and his family. They were a large family and loved my mother so much that my aunt told me it was like having a death in the family. Over the years, they tried their hardest to keep a relationship with my sisters and me over the years, but it was difficult. Colby went to prison and remained there until I was at least eighteen. Honestly, I didn't really remember him growing up. I remember when I was fourteen, thinking, "where is he? Why isn't he protecting me?" When I was eighteen, he came back into my life--he scattered those connections with me for years apart.

Finally, one day, when I was visiting my grandmother (his mom) in Eagar, Arizona. I decided to visit him in jail. I drove to see him and told him exactly what I thought of him; it was not a pretty sight; anyone within ears could hear. When I finished, it felt too good--It was like I had finally released every negative thought I ever had of him. Interestingly, the issue of my deafness and my ear problem never came up--I was way past all that, it was part of my life, and I really was so young I didn't know any different. I found out that no matter how much I told him I had forgiven him for that one act of violence, he could never forgive himself for what he had done. He was a sensitive man when it came to "his girls." He tried so hard to stay sober. Still, when he did, he would call me, and the wounds would open again for him. The drinking would start all over again--sometimes forgiving ourselves is the hardest part of the Atonement of Christ. It was a complicated process to watch him go through. When he took his last breath, he worried about me and the pain he had caused me. Knowing our Saviors, Atonement tells me he has been forgiven and has now moved on to dwell in a better place than he did on earth.

Do I think he loved me? Yes, I do. His behavior was random and not perpetual. The drug and alcohol abuse was more powerful and controlled him to the point of not being physically able to raise three children and be an effective dad. BIGGEST REGRET OF HIS LIFE.

I know this may sound contradictory to everything I just posted about "love not hurting," but there is a difference. Although Colby could not be an active, responsible father in my life, he recognized his faults and asked for forgiveness, admitted to his wrong behavior, and yes, he loved me.

My bottom line is that families, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and grandparents say things that HURT--I have done it as a mother and wife. Does this mean I don't love my children or husband? Of course not. However, words can leave a scar that will not wound. When this happens, put your arms around that person, tell them you are so sorry, that you love them and would never want to hurt them and move on. This is not chronic abusive behavior. This is family life--and not always at its finest moments--I will never blame my childhood on the mother I am today; I am old enough to know right from wrong and take responsibility for my actions.
I am grateful for those life experiences that brought me to where I am today. Boy, I have so much more to learn. All I can hope is that the next generation will be better than I was.

Move a Mountain

 

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2013

Move a Mountain

Sunday, my daughter Kaitlyn, and her husband Brian were asked to speak in church about FAITH. I was moved by their talks; Kaitlyn told of her respect and love for the FAITH her brother showed as he went out to serve a mission for the Lord in the Dominican Republic. She spoke of how he left behind so much as he journeyed out into the unknown. Relying entirely on the strength within himself and the Lord to help him through two years. When he left, he was twenty-one years old and had been struggling with some of his own demons and trials. Through those struggles, he was blessed with the ability to pull himself out of the hole he dug himself into by moving mountains with his Faith. She continued to explain to him the great blessings that would be his if he would obey and follow the gospel plan the Lord had set in motion for him.  

I know he was under the amount of worry and pain as he left our home. Still, I will never forget the look of pride when he walked into the MTC--There was a little bit of fear in both him and me. Oh, how my heart ached for him, yes, I knew Blake was worthy of being there, but that was not what put me in such anguish. Being his mother, I knew it would be the most rewarding thing he had ever accomplished and the most challenging two years of his life. The people he loved the most in the world would be facing some life-changing moments in their lives. He would not be attending his sister's wedding, the birth of our first grandchild, or the graduation of his youngest sister. But the most troubling part for me was what had I done to prepare him? I felt helpless. I, too, had to put all my Faith in the Lord and rely on him to protect and watch over my son, to lead him in direct passages that would eventually bring him home to us safe and worthy to stand as a witness. My eyes were constantly teary, wondering how he was doing, knowing he was worried about my diagnosis of cancer and that he could not be here to comfort me. He didn't know that I felt his loving arms around me on more than one or two occasions. He showed tremendous amounts of Faith while he served. I am still overwhelmed by some of the mission stories he has told me. He left unsure of the gospel, uncertain of his future, and insecure if he would ever see his mother again. Still, he came home with a perfect knowledge that the gospel is true, knowing that his future is bright if he continues to follow God's plan for him, and he came home to a mom that welcomed him with open arms and a huge heart. Kaitlyn is right, Blake is excellent, and I continue to thank Heavenly Father every day for the great man he has turned out to be--

Brian's talk was equally touching; as I listened to him speak, tears filled my eyes and eventually streamed down my cheeks. As I listened intently to the words that came out of his mouth. These words were not ordinary. He was telling the story of my life without using my name. I was prepared to hear him speak about his grandfather, who undoubtedly taught Brian the principle of FAITH. Brian and Kaitlyn have talked about him several times with sweet regard to his knowledge of the gospel, and I know he has been a forcing influence in Brian and Kaitlyn's lives.
However, in this talk he gave about FAITH, he was telling the story of a young baby girl born into a broken family. parents who were battling one with another, her father who, because of drugs and alcohol, led him to the pathway to prison. When her mother was remarried, this new father's role in her life abused her physically, mentally, and sexually. Tears began to run down Brian's cheeks, and I could hear the lump in his throat as he tried to continue with the story. He talked about how this daughter of God had made promises to the Lord and stayed worthy and close to her Heavenly Father yet abuse and trials still are a big part of her life. When she was in her twenties, another test of Faith came when she faced the death of her younger brother, yet she continued to trust in the Lord and give her heart and soul to the church and others she served. As Brian was saying these words aloud, I was becoming increasingly agitated in my seat, the anxiety was starting to surface, and I was not sure I would be able to hide it from Eric. It was like watching your life flash before your eyes, but from a different perspective than what you actually lived. It sounded so easy as Brian described my life. Not necessarily easy was the life, but easy was the FAITH he told me as having. It has caused me to think the last few days, do I have that FAITH engraved in my soul? I certainly don't remember feeling as though I was showing great Faith; it felt more like survival mode I was in--negotiations were happening daily with the Lord--"get me out of this alive, and I will serve you, I promise." 
Brian continued with his talk, speaking of the cancer I was diagnosed with, I really had no idea that my cancer had been seen by anyone as a FAITH builder...I know I speak a lot about having HOPE and FAITH, but never realized those words have penetrated the souls of some of my family members.

In challenging times, it is so easy to give up and turn away from the very thing that can help us through the fiercest adversity of our lives. I know it is impossible to predict an end to our trials and problems of life, but I know I can promise this bit of HOPE if we have FAITH in Jesus Christ, the hard times, as well as the good times, can be a great blessing to us, this strength will give us FAITH to move a mountain.

Give Me Experience-Trystan

MONDAY, AUGUST 15, 2011

Give Me Experience-Trystan

WOW, life just comes atcha sometimes. Recently I posted a blog about getting away from life's trials. After this post, I received dozens of emails asking me to tell more about what happened with Trystan. One person left an anonymous comment that made me believe it was Trystan ....Over the past few years, I have posted so much personal stuff about my life, and people will sometimes leave an anonymous comment. Still, those have never bothered me because I understand and can appreciate if they want to express to me how they feel without revealing who they are. Thank you for your comments. By the way, I look forward to seeing them; if it was you, Trys, I hope your life is going well. I continue to pray for you; if it was not Trystan, I hope you will understand why I am cautious.
With a lot of prayer and consideration, I decided I would blog about some of the details of what happened with Trystan and how we came to find out she was not being truthful. Please know that I,  in no way, shape or form want to re-live this again, it has been a terrible experience, and I am still trying to make some sense out of it. With that being said, I also want to make some awareness so that others will not have to go through this actually; most of you are much wiser than I am and would not allow yourself to be put in this situation, but if you know someone like me have them read this if you feel they are.

Those of you who know me well know that I am not a complicated person, I say things like they are, and everyone knows where they stand with me. However, I open my life up to people because I love people and want badly to help and be there for anyone who needs it.

I started this blog before I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I've always been a journal writer, but as I get older. As our family gets bigger, I felt it would be easy to journal about our family and to be able to check in with a family who lives out of the state I live in.

After my diagnosis, this blog made it easier to express myself and share the details of my journey with the VILLAIN. Little did I know it would impact many women also treated with chemo and radiation. Those women have touched and strengthened me in ways I could not explain. They are women who genuinely understand the struggles of being a mom, a wife, and juggling the effects of the VILLAIN taking over our lives. I also thought it was essential to journal my entire journey, every detail so that women could know precisely what a person goes through when they get this type of diagnosis. Also, for my children, who don't really read my blog, to one day read and understand my diagnosis just in case, heaven forbid, they get diagnosed with breast cancer. Their chances are higher due to Eric's mom and I having breast cancer.

I've loved the connections I've made with women worldwide, experiencing the same emotions I have. One day I received an email from a woman who was undergoing chemo. She only had 2 more rounds and wanted someone to talk to. I began to email her, and the story was heart-wrenching. She explained how she and her 2-year-old daughter were in a car accident 5 years ago, and her daughter did not survive. When Trystan came out of the coma she'd been in for five months, the doctors told her about her daughter Paige, dying in the accident, and that her husband committed suicide when he was told his daughter was dead and his wife wouldn't make it through the night. 

She then endured months of rehab, learning to read, write, walk, and talk. Now she was living with the VILLAIN. I cried when I read that email. I could not believe anyone could endure what she had at such a young age. I remember praying that night, asking the Lord to please relieve Trystan of her pain from chemo and strengthen her with FAITH and HOPE, just like I had been strengthened through my experience. I felt a connection with her, something I had never felt before, and I continued to keep up with her progress. When she had her last chemo, I celebrated that day with her. Our conversations became daily and were emotional and humorous. 

I think it's safe to say we trusted and admired each other. Trystan shared with me that not only was the VILLAIN a big part of her life, but she was also dying from kidney failure and needed to be admitted into the Mayo Hospital in Rochester. My heart went out to her, and I continued to talk to and email her daily. One email I sent her was me telling her how I wanted to start a non-profit organization for women with breast cancer who do not have insurance. Through the contacts I have made with all these women, I realized many of them do not have health insurance, and many states will help them pay for treatments but not for reconstruction, so I wanted this non-profit to help those women get the reconstruction if they wanted it. I asked her what she thought about my idea, and she was very supportive and tried to help me.

She explained that her family was not close, and her brother and sister-in-law have 15-month-old twins. She told me her brother was the drummer of the band REM, and I had no idea who they were.

She explained that when she was in a car accident with her daughter, Honda had given her a massive settlement for her payout (200 million). She said it was the second highest payout ever from the Honda company.

She then told me she would donate a million dollars to my non-profit you can imagine how excited I was because I knew this would help to jump-start this organization and get the help to women immediately. She told me about an organization she has. She bought a home in Hilton Head on the beach for children with terminal diseases to go with their families for a week. She then sent me a magazine article she was featured in about her organization and the fundraiser she did for it in July of 2010. REM. Loretta Lynn and several other performers came to Hilton Head and did an all-day concert. She told me she would help me organize my first fundraiser and that she had all these connections to help me. I explained my gratitude to her, and we started planning our first event.

Her stay in the Mayo hospital was long and dreary. We talked every day, sometimes for several hours, I just did not want her to be alone, and I enjoyed getting out of my little cancer world and helping to cheer her up. Trystan asked if it was okay for her doctor (Dr. Williams) to email me and give me updates while she was in surgery. That night Dr. Williams began emailing me about the severity of Trystans health. I was told Trystan's kidney was only working at 20% and that she needed a kidney transplant. 

Trystan asked me if I would be willing to give her a kidney. After discussing it with Eric, we decided it was the right thing to do. However, I was unsure about my health condition and whether I would be a good candidate. Her doctor assured me she knew I was a match and that God had brought her and me together for this reason. During this time, I was also having some issues and needed to see my gynecology oncologist, Dr. Magtibay.   

She and I talked about everything with each other. She told me about when she was in John's Hopkins Hospital for kidney failure. She was blessed to get a kidney from a donor; however, while she was in the ICU, a nurse physically abused her by putting a drug into her IV, which made her paralyzed, but she was awake and aware of everything going on, he raped her and vaginally cut her up, she was rushed to the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale for vaginal reconstruction surgery, and her doctor was Dr. Magtibay, with the assistance of Dr. Williams they were able to "fix" her. Still, the trauma from this event has never left her. She could not sleep and was deeply emotionally scarred from it. Dr. Williams begged me to try and get her to discuss it with me since she had never had any therapy and refused to speak to anyone about it.   I prayed as to how I could help her.

Being sexually abused, I felt like I could talk to her more freely about it,  but I knew this would be emotionally draining on me as well. I have never discussed the details of what happened to me as a child, teen, and young adult, nor did I want to start now. After all, I had put all that stuff behind me, except for one little thing, when the doctors told me they wanted me to get a hysterectomy, it always scared me and brought up some past issues. This is the reason for me never agreeing to that surgery until now. I began to talk to her. I told her a little at a time, hoping she would open up to me. During this interaction with Trystan, my children were apprehensive about me; they told me that they felt something about Trystan was not right and that I needed to let go a little and get more information about her. This was difficult to hear because I enjoyed having someone to talk to, especially someone who could understand what I was going through. (I forgot to mention that she and I had become friends on Facebook early on in the friendship also) Several times she was near death, her brother would text me and ask me to please pray for her. I had been emailing Blake and telling him about Trystan; he emailed me one week and suggested we have a family fast for Trys, so I suggested it to her brother; at the time, Trystan and I had just had surgery on the exact same day in January, but she never came out of her sedation.

I  explained that we would start the fast in the evening and close the following night, 24 hours with no food or drink and lots of prayers. The next day she woke up--it happened to be on my birthday--I had posted that the only birthday gift I would care to have would be for her to wake up--and she did. All of this time, she was supposedly in the hospital. 

Dr. Williams was emailing me and having me update her "Care Page," which is available through Mayo Clinic, so every day, sometimes, several times a day, I would update the page so all her friends could keep up with her recovery-or lack of. I received emails and comments on my blog from Loretta Lynn and her brother and sister-in-law. Just when we thought she was strong enough for me to come and visit, Dr. Williams emailed me one night and said that Trystan needed some vaginal repair done and that she was going to call Dr. Magtibay at the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix and ask him to do her a favor and fly out there for a couple of days to do the surgery, she told me that her and "Paul Magtibay" were friends and colleagues and that he "owed" her for some things she had done for him. Any of you who have followed my blog should remember that Dr. Magtibay is my gynecology/oncologist. Dr. Williams told me that when Trystan was abused at Johns Hopkins, she had to be flown out to Mayo Clinic in Phoenix to be operated on by Dr. Magtibay. She asked me to never discuss this with him as there is a dr/patient confidentiality problem with her discussing all these things with me.   

In the meantime, I received an email from Blake telling me that a woman in Scotland named Shannon had emailed him and said to him that she was in fear of me being hurt and that he should tell Eric right away about Trystan being a fraud (the same thing happened to her) except that she did not have cancer. Shannon had a child who was autistic and did not have the money to help pay for his medical bills.

POSTED BY Bonbon AT 6:37 PM  

Time To Get Away From Life's Chaos

 

MONDAY, AUGUST 8, 2011

Time To Get Away From Life's Chaos

Envoy--US AIRWAYS no better way to fly

the food

One year ago, Eric surprised me with a trip to Paris, it was an incredible trip, and we decided that this time every year, we were going to take the time together and plan a trip to places we have always wanted to go--NO REGRETS is our theme for life.
I flew with Kayla, Jeremy, and Recker from New Haven, Connecticut, to Philadelphia on Wednesday. They needed to catch their connecting flight back to Arizona. I was meeting with Eric to fly to Frankfurt, Germany, then on to Venice--One of the perks of working for US AIRWAYS is Eric and I can fly for free, so we can upgrade to 1st class when it is available. This makes it affordable for us to go on these trips. 

As we snuggled into our very comfortable Envoy seats, I began to think about all that had crossed my path this year. This time last year, I was just starting to get some hair. When I returned from Paris with Eric, Dr. Kreymerman and I had a date in the OR to take out my expanders and finish my reconstructive surgery. I went back into surgery just a week before Christmas to finish with PK. Blake passed his year mark on his mission. One smidge of information I have not shared with many people --While I was in Paris last year, I began to bleed vaginally. I tried very hard to keep it from Eric, but when I woke up one night with a hemorrhage, I could not hide it any longer, and he insisted I see Dr. Magtibay when we got home.

Dr. Magtibay is my gynecological oncologist; with some concern that cancer had returned, we scheduled a partial hysterectomy for January. I remember crying in his office when he told me. He asked why I was so scared and confused about this surgery. I finally, for the 1st time in my life, opened up to him, and Dr. Kreymerman about my fears-I do not feel comfortable talking about the details here on my blog, but I will say it has everything to do with the sexual abuse I endured as a child. 

I cannot even begin to explain how difficult it was to talk about those details. To actually say the words out loud made me want to vomit. I felt safe and comforted with both Dr. Magtibay and Kreymerman. On the day of my surgery Dr. Kreymerman knowing how hard this surgery was going to be on me, showed up in his scrubs just before they knocked me out. When he came in, I could feel my heart leap in my chest. Just before, I was in a fetal position, hysterically crying. This was not his day in the hospital, and he probably had some patients waiting at the Clinic, but he was there for me, holding my hand. His smiling face was the last I saw before I went out. I genuinely Love Dr. Peter Kreymerman. He will never know what that simple act of kindness meant to me. 

Out of recovery and into my hospital room, I look over at Eric, and he is asleep, snoring as loud as ever. This man means more to me than he or anyone else will ever know. 

It makes me smile when I think of all he has endured with me and never complained about. The past couple of months have been rough on me, and without him, I think I would have had a breakdown. 

Some of you who have read my blog know about my friend Trystan. I met her about a year and a half ago when she emailed me after reading my blog one evening. Without going into all the details, I will tell you that she had a 2-year-old daughter named Paige, who died in a car accident. She was in a coma for 5 months. During that time, her husband committed suicide, and now she was going through cancer treatments and needed someone to talk to. When she found my blog and emailed me, I was happy to share what I knew with her. Over the next 7 months or so, we became very close friends. During most of this time, she was in the Mayo Hospital in Rochester, where she was not only fighting cancer with chemo, she needed a kidney which I was asked to donate to her. 

Our family fasted and prayed for Trystan when she was in the hospital. We invited her to be included in our Family Home Evening on Monday night via the phone. There are so many more details that I don't want to go into, but we found out she was a fraud. She never had a child that died. In fact, she has never given birth or been married, and she did not have cancer--basically, everything she told me was a lie. Her purpose was to find women who are vulnerable and get them to donate to a fake nonprofit organization she has for children with cancer and for the kidney foundation. However, the money is being directly deposited into her personal bank account. I have now been in contact with at least 7 women who have been hurt by her. 

The embarrassment and stress this has caused me are difficult to explain, but one thing I know for sure is that the Lord has things happen in our lives for a reason. 

I believe the reason is so that Shannon, April, Lisa, Donna, Ashley, Carol, Helen, and others could bless my life with their love and compassion. They have all become great friends thanks to Trystan--oh, by the way, Trystan is not her name, according to her parole officer. I still pray for her to get the help she needs and find some peace in her life. 

HONEST: I love People
TRUTH:  This could happen to anyone--maybe even me again
REALITY:  Life brings all sorts of people into our lives, and we need to learn from them all
LEARNED: Be myself-ALWAYS-it's not necessary to be a friend with someone who is not proper to themselves or to you--I CAN'T SAVE EVERYONE

Now, as I sit in first class flying over international seas, my thoughts are changed to another problem drowning my brain. MY MOM. Recently I received a phone call from Ron Lundberg. His wife, Susan, is my mom's best friend. Ron says my mom is not doing well, and the husband and wife living with her as her health care workers are moving to Texas after being with her for 2 years.

This has been weighing on my mind for weeks now. My mom cannot care for herself and refuses to move into a home care facility. The healthcare worker taking care of her will turn her over to the state for evaluation. My mom has been ugly and means to the women from her church who go to her home every morning and help her get dressed, then again at night to help her get ready for bed. People have volunteered to take her to doctor appointments, helped clean her home and take time away from their families to serve her. When she accused one of them of stealing her Coke, it was the last time anyone wanted to help her.

I explained to Ron and Susan if I thought my taking her in and caring for her would change anything, I would do it in a heartbeat--I asked him if I could pray about it and discuss it with my sisters before making a decision. There is so much more detail to this story, but I don't want to judge or go into it on my blog. 

My heart is telling me that maybe there is some HOPE for our mother-daughter relationship. Still, my mind is saying NO WAY should I go there--my doctors are aware of the situation and in no way think I should be putting myself in any stressful situations. I took a week to think about it, pray, and then discuss it with my sisters. We met with Susan and Ron about this situation and confirmed what Heavenly Father has already told me--now is not the time.

My mother is not ready to change her heart. She told them she would like an apology from me, and I am unsure exactly what I need to apologize for. Still, I would over and over again if I thought it would help cure and mend her heart. I spiritually, mentally, and physically cannot endure this again. For now, I turn it over to the Lord and let him take care of what I can't. My thoughts and prayers will be with her for her health and spiritual well-being.

So with that all being said--I am ready for a vacation from LIFE --we just arrived in Venice, and I am excited about our little adventure.

Where I Grew Up

 

WEDNESDAY, MAY 18, 2011

Where I Grew Up

House on Highland

I was not blessed as a child to grow up in the same house for all of my years. Recently I drove by the places we called "home" in Phoenix. Floods of memories returned to me; the house I lived in during elementary school looked so small to me now. Across the street was the Solice family. I was in 2nd grade throwing the football back and forth with the Solice children when the football exploded in my arms and immediately broke my eardrum; I remember my mom grabbing me and hugging me tight as I cried from the pain. I endured many, many surgeries on my right ear. Previous to the football explosion, I had a blow to the ear; my birth father was drunk and hit me one night when I was 2 or 3 years old; I am now deaf in that ear. In this house, my step brothers and sisters were taken from school one day by their mother, she drove them to California, and I never saw them again. I remember my sisters and me throwing toilet paper all over the yard and trees the night my mom gave birth to my little brother Lance. One of the scariest things that have ever happened to me happened here; my mother was cooking dinner in the kitchen; I was sitting at the little table. Standing in the middle of our kitchen, I looked up, and behind my mom was a child, not just any child. She never came out during the day. She had what seemed to be transparent pink skin, extremely white Afro hair, even more white than mine, and her eyes were red; she looked right at my mom and asked if I could play with her. I later found out she was an albino of African descent; we became friends, and then one day, she was gone; I wonder now, as I think back about that day, where she is, who she became, where she grew up. Then I realized in this house, there are memories, but this is not where I grew up.

51st avenue house

I drove past our house on 51st avenue several times before I recognized it, then I sat in my car for a long time in front of the house; this was my junior high years, and down the street was the Hulshoff family. In the summer months, I remember playing kick the can and hide and seek with them every night; I had my 1st kiss on this street with a boy named Eric. 

I'll never forget the day Elvis Presley died. My mom cried like a baby; I remember learning how to mow the lawn, pull weeds, and get grounded for lint balls being left behind on the carpet after vacuuming. I don't want to look at this house; this is the house where bad things happened. In this house is where I was forced to choose between sparing my mom's feelings and my stepdad's desires. The tears flow as I look at my old bedroom window. (on the far left) I often wanted to jump out that window, run, and never look back. This house is filled with horrid memories, but this is not where I grew up.

79th avenue house

Driving towards our house off of 79th avenue, I was shaking, not knowing if I could do this and why was I doing this? I turned in and on the left was Sara's house. She lived behind us. Up ahead was Susan's house. Driving toward my house, I was overwhelmed with emotions. This was the house I lived in during my High School and young adult years. I could imagine my white 65 mustang parked out front. I smiled, thinking about the memories my friends and I had in that car.   

On the front lawn is where I took pictures in my cap and gown on graduation night from Alhambra High school in 1981. Little did I know, just a few short years later, my brother Lance would die in this house. He was only 15 years old. I will never forget that cold November morning. I wonder if the people here now know what a special spirit lived in that house. Lance was the best brother; I loved him so much. I met my husband Eric while I lived in this house.

I knelt and prayed at my bedside for hours, begging the Lord to help me survive the evil in this dysfunctional house. I made promises with The Lord. I promised Him if he would help me get out of this house, I would promise to always keep the Gospel in my life and try my hardest to be good. Looking back, I realize the Lord kept his promises and understood the Atonement a little better than I did. I know all things happen for a reason. In this house is where I first learned the Gospel of Jesus Christ is true, that HE loved me, even if I felt no one else did, HE DID. As I stare at this house, I cannot help but remember so many bad memories. There was not a lot of love in this home, there was abuse verbally, physically, mentally, and sexually yet through it all, I knew it was just a small chapter of my life. I somehow knew good things were yet to come for me, and believe it, or not this is not where I grew up. As I drove away, I looked in the rear view mirror, thinking goodbye and good riddance. I will never return here again, but the memories will never fade.

Our Home on Seneca in Chandler

On my way home, I decided to drive by the homes Eric and I have lived in; I wanted to write down the memories I felt in each one of those homes. In Chandler, Arizona, there is a house where Eric and I brought home Kayla and Blake from the hospital after giving birth. In this home, we laughed, cried, and loved in this house. I worked hard at learning how to be a wife and mother. As a young mother, I always felt like I was not doing a good enough job. In this home, I learned to cook, clean, and be responsible not only for myself but now for a family. I remember one night, a cricket was just outside our bedroom window. One night Eric laughed at me, seeing me searching, determined to get "rid" of it. 

I was so busy being a mother in this home that I failed to read my scriptures like I should. I compared myself to other mothers and wives and let the world define "motherhood." I struggled with self-esteem. I attended the Temple once a week with Eric's dad for over a year so that I could learn more. We met Tom and Tamy Scheurn. She became a great friend and sister in the Gospel. Still, as I stare at this home, thinking about the memories, I know this is not where I grew up.

Our Home on Cove in the Islands

One more stop before getting home, the Islands. In this home, we welcomed Kaitlyn and Haleigh to our family. In this home, I continued my quest to do everything "right." I wanted to be the "perfect" wife and mother. While living in this home, I realized I needed to have family prayer and scriptures and be active in the church. Not because I was forced to but because I knew these things would enhance and bless our lives, not because everyone else was doing it. 

In this home, Kayla broke her arm and had surgery, and Blake broke his arm and several other bones by jumping off everything he could climb on. Eric and I met Mike and Jenny Scow, and they have become friends. While living in this home, we celebrated my 30th birthday with Jenny and Mike.   

In this home is where I realized a dad should have respect and compassion for his children. I learned this by watching Eric with our children. I knew I was not living in reality, and it was time to face it. A year later, I confronted the stepdad about my abuse, and he denied it. My mother refused to believe it and ultimately walked away from her children and grandchildren. This home was the darkest time of my life. The guilt I felt for breaking up our family was so overwhelming I went into a deep depression, but still, this was not the home where I grew up.

Where we live now in Gilbert on Poinciana

Leaving the Islands, we moved into the home we are in now. Still, I was broken. My heart ached for my mom, and I wanted that relationship to be mended. I tried so many times, and every time I came away, even more hurt than before; I once sat in a fetal position by the front door crying until Eric got home because I was so upset about my mom. Debbie Slade became a dear friend and helped me through rough times. She called David LeSueur, who at the time was our Stake President; he laid his hands on my head and gave me a blessing I will never forget. He blessed me to be able to find peace in my heart, and he was the first church leader who told me he believed in me. From that day on, I began to heal from my past, finally realizing none of what happened was my fault. Finally, for the 1st time in my life, I felt at peace with my decisions. 

Haleigh was in the nursery, only 18 months old when we moved here. My children were baptized on their birthdays while living in this home. In this home, I raised my voice too much while raising teenagers. I began looking to other women for inspiration, advice, love, and recipes. I hated that I could not just get on the phone and call mom for those things. 

In this home, I watched our children face challenges. I've spent many hours on my knees praying for each of my children to understand the importance of obedience. 

I learned the importance of saying, "I'm sorry, I was wrong." 

We took pictures of each one of our children going to prom. They all graduated from Highland High School while we've lived here. Kayla and Jeremy were married and had their reception in our backyard. 

Eric and I gathered our children and son-in-law together at our kitchen table to break the news that I had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Six weeks later, I  sent my son off to the Dominican Republic so he could full fill his dream of serving the Lord on a two-year mission. 

I underwent a double mastectomy, was told my cancer had spread and endured more surgeries. We had another reception in our backyard for Kaitlyn and Brian, and I started chemo two days later. The next month our 1st grandchild was born, followed by radiation and more surgeries. It was not until I went through my cancer treatments that I finally realized how much Eric loves me. How much love I have to give and, most important, how much my Heavenly Father loves me and has been with me for every step of my life decisions. I know HE lives. I am entirely sure of this; I can now see the times when he carried me and literally pulled me out of overwhelming situations, but still, this is not where I grew up.

During my short 48 years on this earth, I have learned that a house is just a structure built of wood or stone to create four walls and a roof. What truly makes a home is the love, compassion, respect, laughter, joy and enduring the trials a family goes through together. A home is where a child should not be afraid to live; every person in that home deserves to be listened to and hugged. Every family member needs to know they are loved, especially by their mom and dad, and they should hear those words every day. I wish I had been taught this as a child. I wish I had lowered my voice and softened my heart when my teens struggled. Knowing this makes me want to be a better mother, wife, and grandmother. This is the beauty of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Atonement. No matter what age we figure all this out, it's never too late; he loves us all THAT much.

The Beautiful Mesa Arizona Temple

It is here that I grew up in the Temple of the Lord. This Temple is where I searched my heart and soul and found answers to life's scariest questions. Who am I really? What defines me as a woman? What and who are the most important in my life? Have I done all I can to be the kind of person the Lord will be proud of? What can I do to make life better for someone else? I learned that I am a daughter of God and that He knows me by name and wants nothing but happiness for me. It is up to me to decide how I will obtain that happiness. 

This Temple is where I discovered my true identity; it had nothing to do with the size of our home, how much money my husband makes, the style of clothes I wear, or the car I drive. This is where I learned to listen to the spirit for my answers and guidance and how to forgive. 

The answers came at different times in my life when the Lord knew I was ready to hear the answers when it was my season to learn what I needed to learn. I learned to let the Lord work things out, to put things in his hands, and if I am doing all I can do to be more like him, it will all work out in this life or the next.

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