The Scampering Horse

I went to a LDS Storymakers Conference in Provo, UT  a couple of weeks ago. Here is the thing about Provo. I went to BYU, and LOVED it. I love being a student. Nothing gets me more excited then a syllabus and a classroom. This time of life was two things. It was the time of possibility and innocence. I was learning about the world through traveling on study abroad and reading. I was discovering me as an adult and planning for my future. It was also the beginning of my struggle with depression, but I didn't it at the time. I never would have predicted that my fun-loving, highly ambitious, insanely social self would struggle with the darkness, loneliness, and self-doubt that accompanies my mental illness. The first night in Provo I went to Cafe Rio. It is my favorite. Sweet pork on fresh tortillas. Yum. I was standing in line by myself, having just recently come out of the darkest depressive episode I've experienced yet. I am still a little vulnerable. There was a young famil

Today is your birthday. You turn 60. It is so hard to think of  you as a little baby, a young beautiful mother's first child. But, I have a pretty good imagination so I am going to do it anyway. I am sure you were a really cute little thing. Blond haired, like the pictures I saw of you as a toddler. I know you told me you liked to dance. You were always dancing around. You liked to stay out of trouble, and you ended up babysitting a lot. I think you didn't have much of a childhood. You grew up fast, and with music. Singing. You know how I think of dad with a mustache even though he shaved it 20 years ago? I think of you singing. I thought you were so beautiful. My mother, holding her guitar, singing the alto line of any song. I thought you were the best singer in the whole world. I remember you playing the piano while I danced in Mrs. Wong's ballet class. I sure hated ballet, but I thought you were an amazing pianist. You played so many different kinds of songs whil

I was walking through the grocery store today, with my two little kids. My 4 year old wanted pears. She has been wanting pears for days. We were on our way to get those pears, and I saw this apple juice that I really like on sale, and I felt something. Anticipation. It was a feeling that made my mind brighter, my face smile, and my hand reach out and grab that apple juice. It was the feeling that something good is going to happen, and I am looking forward to it. I have had many feelings over the past few months. I am coming through the otherside of the worst depressive episode of my life. I have felt empty, dread, scared, alone, angry, hopeful, hopeless, sad, optimistic, failure, love, unworthy, unlovable, obligation, debilitating guilt, resentment, regret, humility, generosity, and compassion. I haven't felt anticipation for months. But, I didn't even realize I was missing it until it came back. I think this is a really good sign. My counseling homework is to go on

My dad used to watch Lonesome Dove over and over and over again. He watched it so many times he could put the TV on mute, and say the lines of the characters. My mom did not like it. She did not like the movie, nor did she like the muting and reciting of lines. "I don't like this movie about pokes, and whores, and scalping women." She would say that. And my dad would say. "I hate rude behavior in a man." My mom wouldn't know what to say. But, if she would have been listening to the episodes of Lonesome Dove, she would have been able to say "I despised you then for what you were, and I despise you know for what you're doin'." My dad would have loved that. He probably would have kissed her on her face. He would have known she was being a sassy Clara in that moment. When my dad would come home from work he would say "Hello girls." We would all be sitting around on the couch and he would come in and say, hello girls. I ha