Okay, Universe, It's Your Turn (Anne)

My sister moved to a far-off land, and I want to visit her and her adorable family. But to do so requires a passport.

Can you believe I am as old as I am and don't have a passport? Since I served a mission in Canada pre-9/11, all I needed for a visa was my birth certificate. And it's not like I'm swimming in money to travel whenever I'd like, and I didn't want to go traipsing all over the world by myself.

But yesterday, I gathered all the required paperwork, paid the fees, and in 4-6 weeks I will have a passport. As I left the Post Office, I thought to myself why I had waited so long to get a passport, and though not the sole reason, one reason was that I kept expecting a different last name.

It's the same reason why I never had my scriptures engraved--when I bought my post-mission set, I was dating someone, then someone else, and then I figured I'd just wait.

(And yes, the feminist in me kinda cringes as I admit this to the world, but it's somewhat safe with the pseudonym and all.)

So, Universe, my passport application is on its way to the State Department. Is this passport gonna last me 10 years? Or will I have just paid $135 only to have to get a new one in the next year or two?

Your move.

Trauma-Drama Queen (Stella)

Last night I sat with my sweetheart enjoying a well earned piece of pizza (after my 20 minute swim at the gym) talking about our day, what our upcoming plans were, joking and teasing each other (as only 2 first born instigators can) and just enjoying the evening. Somewhere within that conversation (and though I'm forgetting right now how it was relevant at the time) he made this statement:

"Someday when you're married you're going to love being a wife."

And there it was. In one short, well intentioned sentence I was yanked back to every break up I've ever experienced where a man had told me he wanted to marry me but because I am so wonderful (which I am) and they are so unworthy (which they were) they just couldn't in good conscience make that type of commitment. In one confused blink of his eyes, mine filled with tears and we looked at each other as only a man and woman can. Both completely baffled as to what the other is confused about. She feeling hurt to her core questioning how she could love such an unfeeling brute, he wondering what in the world he had said that had landed him on the on-ramp for one of those discussions.

Being the independent, hates being vulnerable, swore to the heavens that she would never put herself in this position again kind of girl that I am I had to fight back my initial impulse to get up and run. I did a little self therapy, told myself to brave and then...clammed up.

My sweetheart, being the sensitive male that he is will do anything in his power to make me happy. It kills him when I have a problem he can't fix, and as far as I can tell he means it when he says that he wants me to share everything with him. I have to admit, that is new for me. I'm much more accustomed to something like the following: "I love you with all my heart! I would do anything for you! Of course, this is contingent on the requirements that you don't come to me with any problems, never confront me about something that is bothering you, and whatever you do never suggest that I am not 100% perfect."

After some gentle snuggles and a head rub (I'll do anything for a head rub) I was finally cajoled to connect the dots for him. Of course, I had to first figure it out myself and why I had such a primal, immediate reaction. What I realized (and what I finally shared) was that I had heard something very different then what he had said. While he was making a statement about our future life together I heard:

"Someday (a long, long time from now) when you're married (fat chance sister, it's never going to happen) you're going to love being a wife (because finally someone will have chosen you back you sad, sad thing. But don't hold your breath. By the way, I'm telling you this so that you'll read between the lines and know that I'm not interested in marrying you even though I've told you that I am. I just like watching you fight back all that hope and even giggle when I see you trying to resist the urge to pick out paint colors for this living room you're never going to live in. I secretly wonder how long you'll let me string you along, but I'm going to milk it for as long as I can. Cue evil chuckle...hehehe...")

That's quite a journey those few words took from my ears to whatever part of the brain stores memory and emotion. But that's the path I took and it happened so fast I didn't even realize it until the tears were falling down my face. That's the traumatized part of me I suppose - flashbacks and triggers to my most painful experiences. In an instant I was alone again and the freshness of those feelings was powerful.

I think of the times that I have let myself believe and opened up that protected part of my heart that I have (unfortunately) learned to guard with Xena Warrior Princess fierceness. By allowing myself to be vulnerable I have experienced those moments most of us would do anything to avoid but which I've started to wonder just might be important to our eternal development. Most of us have never been asked to cross frozen plains without food or shelter or deal with tyrannical leaders, or watch our families starve to death. We have been asked to deal with loneliness, hopelessness and depression and just like those faithful pioneers have been encouraged to be cheerful and keep going believing that our promised land is real and will soon be in front of us.

I just have to ask - why is that so hard to do even when all the signs around you say This Is The Place?

High School Musical (Anne)

***Really hoping this post doesn’t completely reveal my identity***

I teach at a public high school, and every so often I’m asked to help out with playing the piano. I should have said no this year, as the demands of my teaching and grading load are so great that some days I wonder how I’m managing to get out of bed in the morning. But I said yes, mostly because my friend is the pit conductor, and because I love performing, and because any chance to sharpen my piano skills is something good for me.

But I wish we were doing a different musical.

We’re doing “Once On This Island,” the tale of a girl who prays to the gods to show her what her life should be like. And when a storm causes a cute boy to crash his car right outside the young girl’s village, she takes it as a sign that she is to be his keeper, protector, and lover.

What she doesn’t realize is that love (but really, it's more like obsession--think Ariel/Eric from The Little Mermaid) doesn’t really get her all that far, as the cute boy is engaged to a suitable girl within his social class. He invites the protagonist to remain his mistress, but he cannot marry her. She cannot abide his offer, thinking that her love for him will eventually overcome the social pressures.

I’m not going to spoil it, but it doesn’t end well.

As we’ve been in tech rehearsals all week and I’ve had to play the show several times, I’m often reminded of my own struggles. I’m no closer to any solutions for my concerns. But hearing lines like “Some girls you marry, some you love” over and over is wreaking a little bit of havoc on my self-esteem, my emotional well-being, and my faith.

I’m trying to have faith, trying to believe, trying to live a good life, all the while hoping that one day I will be blessed with a spouse. But does there ever come a point where hope becomes desperation? Where hope becomes pathetic? I honestly don’t know--or is my constant hope just a manifestation of my faith that even if I have to wait until I am 60, I will meet a sweet, funny, loving man who will forgive all my faults and physical shortcomings and love me?

(Though at 60, I’m hoping the men are a little less picky about height, weight, and overall beauty.)

I don’t know what the answer is.

But I’ve learned one thing from this year’s musical: if I’m asked to play again, I’ll wait to say yes until I’ve read the show.

All because one girl read an article...(Stella)

Today I'm feeling it. That righteous indignation that boils up in me from time to time when I see what I consider to be an injustice. I read an article today on a LDS magazine website about single LDS men and some of the causes for their marital situation. It discussed anxiety, poor self awareness, waiting for an angel from heaven type of spiritual confirmation experience, women who are too aggressive in their pursuits...in a nut shell it should have been titled:

All the excuses we men and women give each other or 6 paragraphs of nonsensical crap.

Am I allowed to say crap in this blog? Oh well, like I said I'm boiling with indignation, and I'll add this to the list of things I repent of tonight...

Are you over it yet? Man or woman are you fed up with the talks and the articles and the books and the advice columns? Are you over the analysis and the minute detailing of experiences to try to find the reasons why? When are we going to call it like it is? When are we going to stomp our feet and say enough is enough? Enough selfishness! Enough fear! Enough putting happiness off in the misguided notion that there's something bigger/better/less scary out there?

I propose we stand together and just like an AA meeting say together:
I'm (chosen name here) and I'm single. I hate it. I have no idea why this has happened to me. I can't get over this and I wonder if I ever will. I hate the desperation I feel but as the years go on the more hopeless I am.

Or maybe...

I'm (chosen name here.) I'm single. I want to be single. I don't want the responsibility of a spouse, children, home, etc. I want to have fun and do what I want to do. I don't care what the Prophets say. I date with the intent to have fun, not to find a marriage partner.

Or maybe...

I'm (chosen name here too.) I expect my future spouse to fulfill a list of requirements that is unreasonable and will ensure that I will stay single until I die or become senile - whatever comes first. He/She must be rich, good looking, spiritual....this list is really my way of saying I don't want/or I'm afraid/or I have much too high an opinion of myself to tie myself to another imperfect person.

Or if you're like me...
I'm Stella. I'm single. For years I've been an active participant with my peers complaining and whining about what the opposite sex is/isn't doing. For years I've wondered what's wrong with me? Well, I'm sick of it. From now on, I want us to say it how it is. If you don't want to get married say so. If you're questioning your sexual preference say so. If you're afraid say so. Stop hurting innocent people who are trying to find their forever family.

As of today I pledge to never again read another random article on how to not be single. To those who continue to hold to their fears, their selfishness, their refusal to follow the Prophet's counsel and guidance I add:

Take Responsibility. Be Accountable. Grow up.

BTW - things with my sweetheart are going very well so this is not a reflection of a bitter woman. Just a fed up one.

Touchy-Feely. (Anne)

One part of being single and childless that people might not realize is that I don't get a lot of physical attention. Even my sisters, who have happy marriages but have had spells of single-mothering due to their husbands' jobs, still have little ones climbing in laps, raining hugs and kisses (and sure, an inadvertent elbow or two to the kidneys).

I tend to shy away from physical contact—hugs, hands on shoulders and the like—because if I don't get used to feeling people touch me, then I won't miss it when it doesn't happen daily.

There's one exception.

A friend, a former colleague who is one of the touchy-feeliest people I know (and happens to be rather attractive) showed up at the same venue I was at last night. It had been six months since I last saw him. He greeted me with one of his signature enveloping hugs, and he sat next to me. We chatted while we listened to live bands, and every time he wanted to turn my attention from the music, he put his hand on my arm, on my back, on my knee. He would lean in close to talk to me, his stubble brushing my cheek.

And when the last band said good night, I turned to my friend, and he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me oh so tight. He kissed my cheek and stroked my hair, and we promised, for the millionth time since we stopped working together, that we'd stay in touch better this time.

If I wanted to, I probably could have wrangled a little more than just a hug from him...but he isn't LDS, and I just can't walk through that door yet. Yes, my Nana did, and yes, plenty of other women do. And maybe I will too one day.

But for now, it was just nice to be hugged repeatedly by a freshly laundered man who called me “baby” and adored me for an evening.

Thanks Kris (Stella)

I've been dating my boy for about 3.5 months now. I'm past the scared feelings (I think), I've passed the stage of waiting for his personality to change and I'm arriving full speed at the could this be it station.

Noticing that several of the original contributors to the blog are now married I decided to do a little research into their final blog posts and see what words of wisdom I could find about this feeling that has been driving me crazy. I found one by Kris titled My Issues. At this point Kris was starting to figure out that her sweetheart just might be THE ONE and was surprised to find herself freaking out. She so perfectly wrote all of my fears including the misguided notion that Heavenly Father must not want her to be married - (why else would He have made her wait so long?) Another post even discussed the guilt one feels when looking at other single friends who hadn't yet met their sweethearts - survivors guilt as it were. Something tells me that might be a future blog post so I'll leave it alone for now.

Through her post I found words to feelings that I hadn't found a way to express quite yet. There it is - "Fearless" Stella who has always prided herself in jumping into life with both feet is finding herself exactly where Kris did over 3 years ago. No announcements to make yet but realizing that the fear of the unknown needs to be acknowledged. Calm down Stella, Heavenly Father loves you, His perfect plans will be realized in His time and it's okay to be a little scared.

I've never met Kris - but if you still read this blog thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing those thoughts so long ago. Your words were a much needed life saver for me, a validation of my experience, and the perfect reminder that just because I've had to wait longer then many doesn't mean that wasn't the perfect plan all along.

Jumping In (Anne)

After the last relationship debacle with the Boy of Summer, I swore off online sites. That system is just not for me. If it wasn't going to work out with him, it wasn't gonna work out with anyone.

So I settled into my school routine, and still missed him every day.

Then last Sunday my visiting teachers came and offered the obligatory “do you need anything?”

And I mustered all the humility I could and said, “Well, a husband. More specifically, prayers for one.”

We shared a lighthearted laugh, but I explained that if my own pathetic prayers aren't doing the trick, I might as well enlist the help of people with more faith than I have. One of my visiting teachers asked if I was opposed to being set up, even if they didn't live in town.

“Why not?” I said.

So here I sit, 10 days later, and an email arrives from a friend of that visiting teacher. In normal circumstances, I would feel a combination of fear and excitement. This time, I felt a combination of fear and sadness. Because engaging in communication with this person feels like I've closed the door on the Boy of Summer, a realization that clearly I was not prepared for.

I had left that door half open, hoping every single day that he would change his mind. He's clearly not, but at the same time, I'm not sure I'm ready for a rebound.

Even so, I mustered all the humility I could and wrote an email back. It might not go anywhere (let's be honest, I don't have a whole lot of faith in my track record), but I'm jumping back in. Opening my heart, making a friend, and trying to not hold the past against the future.

Trials and Tribulations (Stella)

First off - Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all. I hope that everyone made it through the holidays with happy memories and fun experiences.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the trials and sufferings we experience during our mortal journeys. How different our struggles are. How tailor made they are for our strengths and weaknesses, personalities and fears. How your trials would have little effect on me and mine would seem simple to you.

Have you ever wondered why you have the lot you have? Why you struggle so hard with a particular hardship while others don't seem to have a care in the world? Over the years that I've read and participated in this blog I have often felt anger boil up in me at some of the comments that have been left to various posts. Until one day it hit me - that most of those comments were not meant to be cruel or unkind. Most were simply made of ignorant bewilderment. How in the world could this experience of single-hood in this day and age be a source of such great pain that you actually formed a support group and write about it?

Single hood is not a death sentence. It is not even close to the very worst thing that could happen to a person however if this is your trial then you know the ache that lives in your heart on a daily basis. If this is your particular cross to bear then you know how bleak and dark the future can look and how desperately hard it sometimes can be to focus on just today. If this is your mountain to climb then you know what it feels like to be able to almost see those who are missing from your life. To see the children your arms ache to hold, to see the spouse you desperately wish you could talk about your day to, to almost be able to taste the family dinners that go uneaten night after night. If this is your trial then you get it and I don't need to explain further.

If this isn't your trial then I ask you to think about the thing that keeps you up at night. Maybe it's a health issue, employment or the lack thereof, your children's happiness, financial security, personal safety, sins or regrets you would undo in a second if you had the power to. Maybe it's wondering if you will ever have the opportunities you've worked so hard for or having the secret dreams of your heart realized. Maybe it's feeling like you have no worth or value or doubt where you fit into the world. This thing I know - we all have them.

I had a pastor once give the following analogy: Imagine that your individual struggle is a cross that you wear on your shoulders all day. Now imagine that we are all given the opportunity to put that cross down in a room. We leave the room and re-enter to choose a cross more to our liking. We would all pick up the cross we had sat down in the first place. Interesting thought isn't it? I have no doubt that it is true - there are things that others go through that I wouldn't want to deal with for even a moment and if I'm truthful there are things that others deal with that are so inconsequential to me I wouldn't be challenged in the slightest.

I understand on some level why this is my trial. I need people more then I need air. I need love and others to love. I need relationships and connections and am motivated to change only when I know it will benefit someone else. That makes me sound more altruistic then I am but to say that I'm people orientated is an understatement.

What better trial to give me then the withholding of the most important relationships? The most important connections? To prove and try my faith, my belief, my strength? To see if I will endure all things the Lord sees fit to put upon me and stay true to Him? If I had to design a cross just for me I can't imagine one better fit to my weaknesses or one that will better push me into becoming a queen in my Father's kingdom.

In closing I guess what I'm saying that if you've come here to visit and what we say doesn't seem so important to you it's okay. Your struggles are different, your needs are different and your plan is tailor made just for you. I hope there is a blog out there for your particular need because for me on the tough days, this is my haven. My Cheers (alcohol free of course), and one of the few places I know I'll always find a kindred spirit or two.

Merry Christmas!

As I write this on Christmas Eve, I am humbled to think that regardless of income, race, gender, or yes, even marital status, He loves me. He loves you. He came to earth for us.

On this special day, I hope we each take time to reflect on the Savior's birth and life, and remember His atonement heals not only our sins, but also our weaknesses and infirmities (Alma 7:11-12).

Be joyful that He was born, and that He lives. His promises are infinite, and He knows us personally.

Have you see the video site? Here's one...Merry Christmas to our readers, wherever you may be.

Speak Up! Or How Anne Started Yelling in Relief Society.

Last Sunday's lesson in Relief Society was a revisiting of Elder Uchtdorf's talk in the Relief Society General Meeting about Forget-Me-Nots. I loved the premise of this talk—his first point about how we need to stop punishing ourselves for our weaknesses is something we just don't hear enough.

But then he got to his third point—a perfectly valid point of Forget Not to be Happy—and rather than illustrate his point with an anecdote about someone who did just that, he told the story of a woman who wanted a husband and family so badly that when it didn't happen, she turned into a bitter old school marm who alienated everyone around her, including her students.

I remember being upset about it when I heard him give the talk, and when the teacher started the lesson, I thought, “Surely she's not going to retell this story.” She did have someone read it, and I stewed. Do I say something? Do I just let it go?

Well, I said something. Loudly. Vehemently.

“This made me so angry when he told this story. I know dozens of women who are single and NOT like the woman in this story—why couldn't he have shared their stories instead? It just perpetuates the cultural myth in the church that to be valued, women must be married.”

And wow, did I open a can of worms.

I didn't mean to, and as someone who teaches Gospel Doctrine and occasionally has to deal with lesson-hijackers, I really try to be sensitive and NOT do that. But I just couldn't stay silent any more. I wanted those women to know that while I'd love to be married and have children, I'm STILL happy with where I am. I love my job (most days) and I'm able to really, truly affect change in my classroom and with my piano students. And I know I'm not alone! Marnie and Stella, plus at least a dozen others I know in the same situation. We aren't bitter, and we ARE doing something with our lives, and we ARE happy.

And even though I was the only single woman in the room, I was shocked at how many women agreed with me. I was sitting next to the temple matron—a woman who has known me since I was 8 years old—and she said, “It makes me angry, too, that the image we have of single women in the church is bitterness. Anne is an example to me, and a role model for me, and I'm a grandmother. It doesn't matter that she's single.”

I was going to apologize to the teacher afterwards, but then a thought came to me. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe inspiration. But here's what I thought: Maybe Elder Uchtdorf didn't have a better story to share because we are silent. We don't talk about our careers or volunteer work or whatever it is we do, because it sounds self-aggrandizing. We don't share what makes us happy because...well, I'm not sure why. Is it because we think it's not important to the members of our ward families? Is it because deep down, we feel no matter what, it's never going to measure up to the women who get to raise families?

I don't know. But I'm done being silent about it. It's time I stopped apologizing for and complicit-ly ignoring the life I've built by not being more vocal at church about the good things I'm doing with my life.

If I get to listen to the women in Relief Society share their stories about sleepless nights with newborns, then I should share stories of my sleepless nights caused by my job. If I get to listen to stories of funny toddler sayings, I should share stories of funny work colleague sayings.

If the women in Relief Society share their family life with me, I should share my single life with them.