A post for me

Feel free to read, or not read, this post. It's purely for myself. I needed to record it, but I don't want to take the time to write it by hand in my journal. Technology has made me lazy. ;)

Tonight I was preparing my lesson for Young Women's tomorrow. The lesson is on Personal Record keeping. I had a great time pulling out old books, journals, letters, baby calendars, etc. It was a riot to read past journal entries, Jesse's letters from his mission, and to look at my grandmother's book. 

And then I opened up my old red journal. I only have two journals I've ever filled. My red one. And my white one.

I started my red journal on a Saturday in December 1993. It didn't occur to me back then to specify which Saturday. It just says Saturday. I have wonderful entries about my "favrite" things and how Sarah is first best, Stephen is second best, and Seth is last best. I was shocked when I hit April 1994 though, and in smudged pencil are the blaring words "Most kids don't like me." Underneath is a relatively updated sidenote:
"Lauren at 12 years old: Here is the reason people STILL don't like me: I am a negative freak who everyone hates. Completely."
In November 1994, it reads, "I don't have any freinds now because their mean to me."
January 1995, "I don't have many friends now. I used to have lots."
Unfortunately the pattern continues through the rest of the book... and into my white journal.

It totally broke my heart to read those entries. I've never been "diagnosed" with depression, but I've known for years that it's my constant demon. It just shattered my heart to read that when I was merely seven years old, I was already being attacked by it.

Since I was seven years old, the synapses in my brain have told me that I cannot be loved. That I am nothing of worth or value to myself or others. People are not genuinely interested in me. I have struggled my whole life to make and keep friendships because my brain cannot comprehend that friends are real, that friends really care and love.
I can't tell you how many friendships from high school and college that I regret letting fall apart. I would find a wonderful person. Someone I loved. And then the demons would come in. My mind would fill with doubt and awful self-criticism and that friend would be gone.

I still do this. I have days where my I still can't believe that Jesse chose to be married to me. To ME. Or that I have sweet girls to have play dates and girls nights with. It is absolutely shocking and novel to my mind that these people might actually care about ME. Silly, right?

The point of this post was not to focus on the bad. I promise. I merely was helping myself recognize that the crazy existed long before I realized. But I cannot let the crazy win.

So tonight, I am proud of myself.
I have three hilarious and happy children.
I am beautiful.
I love that I can play the piano.
I am learning to study again. To teach myself new things.
I love that I painted furniture. I can't wait to do more.
I love that I'm learning to take pictures of my children.
I enjoy silly science fiction and fantasy novels like Divergent, Hunger Games, The Infernal Devices, Uglies, etc.
I weigh less than I did in high school.
I am loud, and awesomely dramatic at times.
I come from an incredibly smart and amazing family.
I LOVE my extended family. Sometimes I wish we were all small in grandpa's buggy again.
I have had incredibly spiritual personal experiences--the kind I just can't share but that have solidified my knowledge that the gospel is true.
I am married to the most caring, loving, and forgiving person in the world. 


I need to be proud of myself. Not in a boastful way--but in an I'm awesome and need to realize it--sort of way. Too often we're ashamed to be proud of ourselves because it seems or sounds like arrogance. Well that the silliest thing ever. Heavenly Father wants us to be proud of ourselves. We should never feel the need to apologize for ourselves or undermine something we are or have done. Maybe I'm the only one who does this.

Tonight, I like myself. It is definitely a step in the right direction towards loving myself.  I only wish my seven-year-old self had known how cool I was.