You have a choice

 I don’t remember ever not hearing the voices in my head. When I was 10, 11, 12, I would sit up in the middle of the night, in the middle of my mattress with my knees pulled up tightly against my chest, rocking with sobs as I saw the hands coming up over my mattress trying to pull me down, down to the sound of wailing and gnashing of teeth. When I was a teenager those voices changed, telling me I wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t worthy, I was unlovable. I was the reason my parents were screaming and fighting all the time. I would never have a boyfriend because I was too fat and angry. I wasn’t smart enough so there was no point in trying to get into college. A couple years after my husband Damon was killed, I found myself driving cross country in an RV with my three small children in the back. One day in the middle of nowhere I was driving across a high steeply curved bridge and I heard a voice in my head tell me to just turn the wheel and go over the edge of that bridge, that it wouldn’t matter anymore, that it wouldn’t hurt anymore. I argued with that voice in my head, “what about my children,” “Doesn’t matter, they’ll be dead too.” “But what if my children survive, what if they just get hurt, what if they become orphans.” That word “orphans” kept my hands on that steering wheel, driving straight across that bridge. A few months later I recognized that something was wrong with me. I felt like I was going crazy. I was sure I had schizophrenia or some other mental health issue and I needed to get help. I went through grief counseling, I even started a prescription of an anti-depressant, something to help me. But I couldn’t stand the way it made me feel, nothing, like a zombie. So, I went back to my trusted coping mechanism of getting lost in a book. I don’t know how I came across the book series, The Great and Terrible. The only thing I knew about the author Chris Stewart was that he was LDS, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, like me. The book is about the war in heaven, our relationships with our brothers and sisters, with Jehovah and Lucifer. The book continues to our relationships here on earth, those continued relationships and those fallen angels who chose to follow Lucifer and how they are now on earth, here with us, whispering in our ears lies, deceit, manipulations, to get us to choose to do something to make us fall, down like them. Something resonated deep in my soul. I knew it was true and it took me back behind that steering wheel in that RV, driving across the bridge, and I recognized that voice in my head, that insistent, whiny, manipulative voice was not my voice. I did not want to kill myself. I did not want to kill my children. And I was not crazy. I recognized that I had a choice, a choice to listen or a choice to not listen to those voices. I recognized that that choice, that agency, was taking the power back from Satan. My children have grown up. I’ve been able to teach them how to recognize those voices, how to recognize those lies. Those voices haven’t stopped. My 16-year-old daughter struggles with hearing those voices. And I’ve recognized that I am her mother for a reason. I’m here to teach her, and to help you know that you have a choice. And that you can choose to live.

Why do I need to write a memoir?

My thought process on my book has evolved over the years. It went from being about Damon, then my loss of Damon, then our love story. I felt called to write about him so I wouldn't forget, so my children would know him, so others would know him and somehow also feel his loss. I didn't want him to be a stagnant photograph, stuck in time. I wanted to feel his presence and picture him there next to me as I wrote it and read it again over the years. I got stuck writing that story because it hurt so much. I would sit down to write and become overwhelmed by my sorrow, guilt, and grief. The book sat unfinished, untouched, unread.

I realized that my story continued. I was still living, making memories, learning important lessons.

My story included Damon, my loss of Damon, our love story, but also learning how to be on my own, learning to love again, and new beginnings. I couldn't write about Damon without writing about how he lead me to Chris. I couldn't write about Chris without including Damon, learning to love another while still holding onto his memory. I don't feel as though Chris and I had a beginning, we just kind of jumped in where we left off. We were always in each other's existence, always meant to be together. It just took a lot of pain to get us back to each other. Kind of like Damon. Something was there pulling us towards each other, keeping us in the back of each other's minds as we continued living, until we couldn't resist the pull any longer. I knew we were supposed to be together, just like he knew it, even though it took us so long to finally get our act together, get over our fears, and be together. 

As Chris and I continued our lives together, I realized there was more to my story involving Chris's past and our present, Chris's ex-wife, our blended family, and homeschooling. I recognized that having a blended family was much harder than losing Damon. The lack of control when it comes to someone interfering with my family, lying and manipulating, and hurting my husband. It was horrible. I was consumed by hatred for her. The hatred ate me from the inside and almost destroyed my family. At the same time I started to resent my new marriage and blamed Damon. I blamed him for leaving me, again. The grief cycle reared it's ugly head forcing me to make some changes, throwing my family off kilter, not that we had found a kilter yet. Along the way. we began homeschooling which took us down a rabbit hole of learning. It was amazing! I can't tell my story without including the journey of homeschooling. 

My story became our story. Damon, Chris, and me.

While my story has evolved my fears have had the opportunity to grow. I've fought telling my story for fear of being judged, fear of being recognized or remembered from when I wasn't at my best, fear of being called out for remembering differently than someone else, fear of hurting someone's feelings, fear of being required to do more, be more, and experience more hurt and loss. 

My purpose has evolved from needing to tell my story so Damon is remembered, to needing to remind people that we are not alone, we are loved by our Savior, and we can always count on Him to get us through our trials. My purpose is to share what I have experienced, because others go through it too, and maybe they need the reminder I could have used along the way. 

Here we go again...

 If anything, I'm consistent about being inconsistent.

My plan, and when I say MY plan I really mean Heavenly Father's plan for me, that I fight tooth and nail, become resigned, and then fall off the band wagon again and again. My plan has been to write a book, a memoir, about my journey, my grief, my healing, my progress. 

I've been working on my book for, what? ten years or so now. I've made little progress but have plenty of excuses. 

A week before Christmas I was down in the valley with my daughter for doctors appointments. While there we stopped at a used book store. I got a bug, an intense drive and bought a basket full of books about writing, how to be a writer, even a memoir that would be a good example to learn how to write memoir. I've had this bug jump up and bite me a few times over the past ten years, but never this intense. I was excited! I felt like something had shifted, within me, and without. I don't know what that shift was, but I knew that I could do it.

Right before Christmas I found myself doing some self-reflection. I hated my job. I dreaded going to work. I wanted to be a dispatcher but the agency I was working for was making it difficult. I went from being a stay-at-home mom during the pandemic, to working as a courtroom clerk, to working from home for the VA, to training as an emergency dispatcher. Hating my job was not part of my plan. I quit the VA because it made me so angry. I quit the court because I wasn't willing to work for someone who was willing to throw good employees away for one who cried racism, or someone who was more interested in being a friend than a supervisor. I quit jobs for lesser things than hating the job, so what was holding me back now? As things got progressively worse I realized that my fear was keeping me there. I was afraid of my finances, disappointing my husband, being a bad example to my children, not achieving my goal of becoming a dispatcher, not being able to make as much money at another job. 

During my self-reflection I remembered that I had prayed about this job, as I had the previous jobs. I did not have a good feeling about it, or any of them, but I rationalized that I needed it and it would be good for my family. I realized that while I had prayed about each job, even the need to go back to work in the first place, that I hadn't followed the answer, because it wasn't the answer I wanted. I wanted the adventure. I wanted the new experiences and the chance to learn something new. I didn't want to be a boring stay-at-home mom who was pissed every evening when my husband got home from work. It wasn't that I was sick of my kids, but I was sick of myself, of who I'd become. I needed a change. Instead of making that change within myself I made a change in my circumstance, a change that would not end up making a real difference.

I realized that I needed to have faith to follow the direction Heavenly Father was giving me.

Why couldn't I have that much faith? Why couldn't I just do it already?

The excuses were there, as they always are. They all came down to fear.

If I can't put my faith above my fear than what is the point of it all? All of these lessons I've learned would be for nothing. All of the heartache I've been through would be for nothing. All of the growth I've experienced would be for nothing. Every lesson I've ever taught my children would be for nothing. 

So I made a plan. Something that involved me quitting, finishing my degree, writing my book, getting my house in order. 

And then I got sick. My brain fog was so intense that I couldn't hold a single thought in my head. All of my plans and intentions were gone. I couldn't find them. I couldn't remember them. They were just gone. Once I came out of the fog I found the stack of books I purchased right before Christmas. I found a book I'd bought and marked up years ago called Handling the Truth on the Writing of Memoir by Beth Kephart. I went online and found writing prompt apps and help for beginning writers. 

My biggest excuse over the past ten years has been that I don't know how to be a writer. I don't know where to start. I don't know what it requires of me. Being a writer seems so solitary and self-driven. I wouldn't have a trainer or a supervisor or a list of tasks to complete by the end of the day. How could I make sure I was doing it right or that I'd be successful when there was no measure of success or immediate gratification or praise? 

Over and over again I read from writers of all different genres, the way to become a writer is to write. Just sit down every day and write. Set a goal of 15 minutes, or 25 words. It doesn't matter how much or how long as long as words get onto the page. 

So that's what I did. I wrote. I opened up a blank Word document and wrote out a silly prompt from an app and went for it. And you know what happened? Something resonated inside of me that this is what I'm supposed to be doing. It doesn't matter if anyone reads it. It doesn't matter if it's good or has problems. It matters that I write, that I take that leap of faith and do what Heavenly Father's been telling me to do all along. It matters that I let go of the fear and just jump in and do it. 

I can work out the kinks along the way. I can go back and edit. I can learn as I go from the books I've collected, from the memoirs I read, from the classes I'm taking, from life going on around me.

What matters is that I let go of the fear.

I'm looking for a job, and while I'm waiting to hear back, I'm writing. While I'm budgeting, putting my house in order, and living off food storage, I'm writing. I'm taking the last of my credits to finish my degree, and I'm writing.

Veteran's Day

My birthday is the 40th anniversary of the "Day Which Will Live in Infamy." Growing up sharing that day and knowing what it meant, what caused it, and what it caused was a unique experience. My day was shared with memories of pain, suffering, fear, and anger. It was also filled with pride and honor for those who served in the military, who survived and those who did not.

When I was a freshman in high school my family visited Hawaii. I was there standing on a platform looking over into the ocean depths at the wreckage below. The tomb of so many sailors who never saw it coming. The emotions come back to me as I remember looking not too far below the surface of the ocean. I could almost touch it. It was haunting. I had heard the stories, watched news footage and movies, and even met survivors, but this was different. It made it real somehow. It made the loss so much more significant and disturbing. 

While I wasn't a military brat I grew up with a strong influence of the military in my family. My dad served in the Navy. He, along with one of his four brothers chose to serve in the military. He got out just 11 days after I was born. My dad and his brothers were the military brats. Their father was a Navy Chaplain. Imagine that! The son of a Lutheran minister turned Navy Chaplain. I can't imagine. I love the stories though. Some are great and some are not. 

After my dad got out of the military he had a job as a welding engineer. Our family moved across the country as he worked at various power plants. We lived in Pennsylvania, Michigan, New Jersey, and Ohio before we moved back to California. After a few more moves and the death of my maternal grandpa we settled down in La Mesa, California. 

The influence of the military continued. My dad taught me how to clean. He taught me how to make my bed. He taught me how to respect authority. He taught me the sailor's language! He taught me and my siblings songs and rhymes that I have now passed on to my children. 

My brother decided to join the Army shortly after he graduated high school. He became an intelligence analyst. While it may sound like an oxymoron my brother was great at what he did. He is brilliant and enjoyed his job. He served 16 months in Iraq after being stationed in Alaska.  

My husband Damon also chose to serve in the Army. Damon did not grow up with the influence of the military. He grew up with other examples that led him to believe in supporting his family, working hard to earn his place in the world, in serving those that needed him, in being an example of love, sacrifice, and service. 

Damon joined the military just three months after we married. We shared the desire to travel and experience what the world had to offer. Damon was a natural leader but more than that he was a comforter. He supported his friends and family and those he worked with. He was willing to stick his neck out to stand up for others. He worked hard knowing the sacrifices he made would be worth it and would pay off. He did not plan on staying in the military though. He knew that his family was more important but he was willing to serve in order to provide for the long run. Damon's ultimate goal was to become an elected Sheriff. He always strived to serve those around him. He couldn't be who he was without serving. 

I share my story of the military's influence on my life because I know how it is to wonder what it could be like. My wonder is different though. How do people not feel the call to serve? How do people not respect the flag? How do people not understand or appreciate the service men and women and the sacrifices they make? How are American's afraid of the military? Why do American's want to pay the military less and less and take away their means of survival while increasing the minimum wage? Why are there homeless veteran's dying on the streets while the President invites refugees from other countries? Why are veteran's committing suicide and not receiving the mental and health care they need after serving and sacrificing so much? These are the questions I have because I truly don't understand. 

Men and women that are willing to sacrifice their own lives, time with their families and friends, and so much more are honored and remembered on this day, November 11th. But I remember them everyday. And I ask you to do the same.

I Won't Give Up

28 NOV 2006

Damon my love,

I love you! I miss you. I'm worried about you. I'm scared for you. You finally called yesterday morning after having a COMM blackout for a few days. You're okay, but someone else isn't. You saw some kind of action on your way to Camp War Horse, but of course you aren't allowed to elaborate. I hope you drive like hell and don't look back. I can't believe you've already seen action. So much for this deployment being a piece of cake and you being safe and sound. Why couldn't you have a lousy desk job? Why do you have to be the hero? I would love you no matter what you did, but I know that if you didn't do what you're doing or what you want to do you wouldn't be who I love. You're such a "good guy." Funny that that is one of the reasons I love you so much. I'm glad that whatever I was going through when we first dated was just a phase! Funny also that when you were talking to my sister about getting a tattoo that I got mad, because that's not who you are.

I love you Damon just the way you are. I will love you when you get back, no matter how you've changed. You can't deny that you will have changed because a year will have gone by. You know how much can happen in a year. I know that I will change in the next year. And when you get back things will change again. Change isn't a bad thing and you changing while you're over there isn't a bad thing. It's a part of life, a part of living, a part of who you will become. Who WE will become.

I'm looking at a goofy picture of you. I miss you so much. I miss your smile, your silliness. I miss your hands and your cute butt and holding your face as I kiss you. I miss waking up at the butt-crack of dawn and watching you get ready for work. I miss going for long drives with you, holding your hand, and dreaming about the future. I miss taking care of you, cleaning up after you, nagging you. :)

Actually I don't miss that. There's a lot that I would like to change when you get back. First of all is "us" time. We will have more of that. I promise. I want to stop nagging you so much. I'm not your mother and I need to stop acting like I am. It's not right for me to act that way. I need to communicate more and better instead of getting frustrated and taking it out on you. You don't deserve to come home from crappy work to listen to me get after you for one thing or another. I realize that you will need your down time. That you will need to socialize with the guys outside of work. But I need you to realize some things too. We are married. We are partners. We are best friends. And I need your help. We have two kids now. I'm at home with them all day. I will need some down time too. And they will need their daddy for more than just a meal and a bed time song. I know my responsibilities as a housewife and stay at home mom, but sometimes things get a little overwhelming - as you already know.

I know how lucky I am to have you. I know how good I had it when you were home. But I know things could have been better and we can make them better when you come home - by working as a team. We need to be a couple first and foremost. We need to say Please and Thank You to each other and give each other compliments. We can't forget that we like each other, that we are in love with each other or that we actually want to be together. I think what we have is special - mainly because I know we will never end up like our parents or our sisters.

When you come home it will be like we are starting out fresh. We will (should!) be debt free. We will have a new home. Hopefully your work schedule won't be so nasty. We will be in a "honeymoon" phase again. We can get into a new groove of things at home - one that we will both be happy with. I can't wait for you to get home.

I love you Damon.



I reread my journal entries from almost 10 years ago and I can't believe how things have turned out. I like this entry because it reminds me that while Damon and I weren't perfect we were always striving to be better. 

We had so many dreams and plans for our future. The one-sided entry doesn't come close to showing our love for each other. We respected each other. We relied on each other. We had so much fun together. 

It took a lot of time to grieve for our lost dreams. As the months then years went by I went through cycles of grieving again. When I had Keagen. When I realized how much I love Chris. When Kelsie was baptized. When Chris and I passed mine and Damon's anniversary. When I realized I needed new dreams. When I recognized that I could no longer picture Damon here in my new life.

The grief cycle is nasty and never ending. 

I had to realize that that cycle comes back around and around. It doesn't end, and I wouldn't want it to. The fresh emotions after being triggered are like memories that I would never want to forget. I'm sure this isn't completely healthy, but I want to hold onto those emotions. I want to remember how I felt when I got that phone call. I want to remember how I felt when I watched him walk away. I want to remember how I felt when I kissed his remains goodbye. 

My dreams are different now. But Damon is still a part of them. I know that I will be with him again and that I need to live in a way that will ensure that. I need to raise my children to remember him.

Chris and I have been married for almost six years now. We have our own dreams, our own marriage, and our own problems, but just like me and Damon, Chris and I are always trying to make it better. We know better. We have both been through the wringer and have made it this far together. We won't give up. Because WE are worth it. 

Journal Entries

28 JUNE 2010

Today is Monday following 4 amazing days of PSI Basic. It was such a great experience. I had quite a few breakthroughs.

Since January I have really been focused on healing. Not just from losing Damon, but completely. I have always known that something wasn't quite right with my relationship with my mom but I never understood where it came from or why I held such resentment towards her.

I realized that ever since I was a little girl I have been struggling for love from my mother. I don't remember hugging her or her telling me she loved me. I remember positive things about my dad but not my mom.

There is a lot of negative stuff I remember. I don't want to dwell on it anymore. I don't want to resent her. I don't want to be hurt by her anymore. My emotions are MY emotions. She doesn't control them. I do.

I know she loves me even if she doesn't know how to show me and doesn't know she's hurting me.

The main thing I wanted to work on this weekend is my love for myself. I have recognized that I can't teach my children to love themselves and be positive about life if I don't do it myself. What kind of example would that be??

I visualized myself as a five year old little girl. Twirling, huge smile. Then as a little baby with lots of brown hair. Holding that little baby, I began to love myself again. I love my children unconditionally. I deserve to love myself the same way.

I also realized that with every relationship I sabotage myself. I don't trust myself so I lash out at others so that they can't hurt me first. I still end up hurt and play the victim.

I learned a ton about myself this weekend. I'm excited to keep up the improvements. I am going to PSI 7 in August. I am super excited and nervous!

I think Damon is proud of me, finally. I want to keep it going.


2 AUG 2010

Alma 36:3
And now, O my son Helaman (daughter Ashley), behold, thou art in thy youth, and therefore, I beseech of thee that thou wilt hear my words and learn of me; for I do know that whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions, and shall be lifted up at the last day.

God is here with me. He is in every one of these people, helping me. He is in me. He wants me to "break thru" as much as I do.


This entry was posted while I was at PSI 7.
I was on the verge of breaking through. It took me another month or so to figure out what I wanted and to ask for it.



I still struggle with my relationship with my family. It's not just my mom.
I love them unconditionally. And I know they love me too.
I'm still learning to let go of expectations. I'm still learning that love is shown and expressed in different ways and to not be offended when it isn't shown how I need it. I'm learning that while I love unconditionally that others have their own expectations that I cannot meet and it is not my place to meet their expectations. I cannot be accountable for what is theirs.

Through all of this I have learned that I am not alone. The adversary has really kicked my butt with lies. I know better. I have felt His presence. I have felt Angels surround me and lift me up. I have felt His love penetrate the darkness and fill my heart with light.

Family comes in many shapes and forms. It is not confined to blood or genealogy.
I love my family. All of them. I am so thankful for their unconditional love. For their shared joys and tears.

I am thankful for Eternal Families and the knowledge that I will be with my Damon again. It doesn't end at death. It doesn't end!!!

If you would like to know more about Eternal Families let me know. I'd love to share!!

Blog vs Book

Yesterday in Relief Society we had a lesson about the symbolism of the picture of the iron rod and the great and spacious building. I've heard this lesson many, many times. But yesterday something else clicked. Something stuck that didn't quite make it all the other times. My notes go something like this:

Mists of darkness = temptations of the devil
Filthy river = being offended/falling away from the Spirit
Large and spacious building = vain imaginations and pride of the world/idols
Iron rod = word of God

Good-Better-BEST
The natural man is an enemy to God.
The more in tune with the Spirit, the more focused we are and the natural man does not influence.

The teacher had half the room put up sticky notes with examples of "temptations of modern day LDS women" while the other half of the room put up their sticky note with an example of "modern day idols".

I put up my sticky note of an example of temptations for modern day LDS which said "I'm too busy!", Busybodies, GOSSIPING.

The Idols is what got to me though.
Some of the examples were: TV, Netflix, TV, TV, TV,.... but then....procrastination.

Ouch. Yep. I think that's mine.
Some bells went off and then I went home and took a nap. Ugh.

So here I am today giving this whole book thing another thought.
I actually sat down to write it last week and I literally fell into a deep depression. It was horrible. I can't imagine sitting down to write out my story without all of those emotions coming back up. Which makes me think I haven't actually healed. I've only put a band-aid or even worse I've just shoved it down and ignored it all. Ouch.

Here I am, supposed to be writing a book about how I've overcome so many trials and I'm a better person for them and I'm actually happy!!! But it's more than that.

I keep being reminded that my story, my mess, isn't actually the story I'm supposed to be telling. My story is one of salvation, forgiveness, and LOVE. My story is one of finding that ultimate source of LOVE and learning to live again through Him.

I've been contemplating writing this book but then the idea comes to me that it's more than just a book. It can be more than a book anyways. It can be a movement of looking beyond the grief, the pain and sorrow, the sins and temptations, to who got us through and keeps helping us through every day. He is the source of that relief. He is the One who never left our sides. He is the One who carried me when I couldn't carry myself or my children.

The One I speak of is my Savior Jesus Christ. My story is about Him.

I know I'm not alone in that I'm not the only one who has a story to tell about Him.
I know that my story is not unique.
So I'd like to hear your story too.

The benefit of doing a blog verses a book is that a blog can be interactive! A blog can change and develop and include so much more than just a written word. And maybe one day I'll turn this blog into a book.

So no more procrastinating. No more excuses.

We all see how the world is out there. We all notice the lack of GOOD, POSITIVE stories. So let's change that. Let's show each other and the world that despite the hard times, despite the grief and loss, despite the anger and frustration there is One who can lift us up and deliver us from all of that junk!