Phoning It in

Improving my life was as easy as watching Netflix.

BAHAHAHA . . . yeah, right.

I took a break from Facebook in the month between my birthday and Christmas. I had already taken a ten day break and gotten back into my old habits of endlessly scrolling. That was when I realized that I required a serious detox; I was facing the holidays, the last few weeks of the semester, and the possible onset of seasonal depression. I quit cold turkey and loved it. I was better able to focus, I was more productive, I "had more time," and felt better overall.

The thing about social media is that it occupies my time, my brain, my eyes, and my hands. So if I'm scrolling, that is pretty much all I'm doing. This became apparent when I found myself looking to occupy myself while nursing. Phone in hand, but "unable" to access Facebook, I searched my apps and arrived in YouTube. I know that ideally I would have filled this gap in my behavior by reading a book, but trading up is better than staying where you are.

My stint on YouTube taught me the importance of knowing what I want from my media. Was I hoping to learn something? Feel something? Even if I was just looking to be entertained, making the conscious decision and searching for something that I was interested in was a more direct and efficient way of being entertained than Facebook scrolling. I found some vloggers I really enjoyed and learned a bit more about psychology, home, and financial planning. I tried to find videos that made me excited to do and be more. And, because I could passively watch, I could do other things at the same time.

I didn't give up my phone. It's actually possible that I used my phone even more. But I also used it more mindfully than I had been using it. Yeah, I watched a ton of Netflix. Like, I binged this ridiculous cop show that stars Josh Groban in less than a week. But I also got back in the habit of running every day. I gave back into my love of true crime via podcast, but I also got my dishes done, read my scriptures, and did some laundry. I don't want to tell you that giving up Facebook made me into Wonder Woman, but as I look back on winters past, I've done much better thus far. I still have days when I lose my patience and yell at my kids, have a messy house, or think I've submitted an assignment when I haven't. The difference is that I haven't spiralled out of control and continued to berate myself for all the ways I'm failing while compounding the problem by wasting more time and comparing myself against Facebook's Greatest Hits.

This wasn't a scientific study. I didn't isolate variables, so there's no way for me to know if this was a correlative or a causative relation. However, in Charles Duhigg's The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business, Duhigg describes something he calls keystone habits. Keystone habits are changes in routine that when implemented, are catalysts toward greater transformations than many other possible habits. Exercise and getting up earlier are keystone habits. I feel like for me, giving up Facebook was one of these keystone habits.  

As I approached the designated end to this experiment, I debated coming back. I'm afraid of a relapse. However, I cling to the concept that social media links me with friends and family that I am not ambitious enough to keep in touch with by more traditional means. So, I'm back, but I'm aware. I've set up some rules for myself so that I maintain control. I only log into Facebook on a computer, not on my phone. Rather than being an everyday occurrence, I'll pop in once a week ("Facebook Fridays!" *Gagging* How do I live with myself?) for half an hour. Limiting my time makes it more likely that as I'm logged in, I'll have specific people I'll want to check in on.

I heard an analogy in church once. Technology is a tool. We wouldn't grab a hammer and just start hitting things with it. We wouldn't find ourselves holding a hammer and think, "Hmm . . . I wonder what I could fix with this?" Rather, when we were working on a project that required a hammer, we'd fetch the hammer. My Facebook habits were me wandering aimlessly with a hammer, hitting random things and hoping I'd get something out of the experience. Surprise, surprise: I didn't. Ironically, I got much more out of intentionally binging Netflix. So, I guess what I'm saying here is: whatever you do, do it with purpose.  

The end.

Allow Time to Digest

A couple of days ago, something happened that stirred up a lot of people. You may be tired of hearing about that thing. This post is not a response to that thing, but rather a response to the responses to that thing. And a few other things.

First off, this thing that happened deeply upset a lot of people. That's why I was disappointed by the lack of patience, love, and attempts at understanding that I witnessed from both sides. Even some of those who were seemingly attempting to respond with love still came across as a bit cold and hurtful. I read many comment threads in which those who were grappling with this new information were further battered, rather than comforted.

We all believe certain things to be true, but there are some things (and certain times) that we don't need to share, regardless of their truth. It may be a fact that my dear friend is overweight. There is no time that I feel justified in pointing that truth out to her. It would not be kind. It would not build our friendship. It would not be helpful. Very often, these truths that we feel inclined to share at inopportune times are well-known by those with whom we are sharing. "Reminding them" does nothing but scrape an open wound they are attempting to heal.

When an issue like this becomes front and center, we feel a need to do something. Say something. Respond in some way. But hasty responses can do a lot of harm that we may never be aware of. I admire the friend who, upon learning this news, was somewhat hurt and confused, but responded, "I need some time to digest this." This is a matter that may require a bit of time to resolve. Some of us may never be 100% okay with it. I don't think that means that we still can't have strong testimonies. One of the more rankling comments I repeatedly hear is something to the effect of, "If you believe the prophet speaks with God to give us revelation then you shouldn't have any doubts." I respectfully disagree. I have a very strong testimony that the prophet, Thomas S. Monson, speaks for the Lord. That does not mean I have never felt anxious, concerned, confused, or sad about anything--even commandments or policies. It feels a little uncomfortable at times. I would say it even hurts. But I also believe that those times I am hurting are stretching me, molding me, and making me stronger. Eventually. In the meantime though, I feel a bit weak, vulnerable, and I need a little bit of extra love and understanding. The last thing I need is for people to freak out because I'm unsteady.

I sat in a church lesson awhile ago that made me squirm. The lesson was based on Rosemary M. Wixom's talk, "Returning to Faith." I loved this talk. The teacher didn't though, and admitted it up front. It made this teacher uneasy to listen to a story of a young mother who had questions about the gospel. And this concern/panic began before the young mother had even left the church--it was off and running at the first mention of doubt. And throughout the young mother's story of questioning, learning, growing, and returning to the church, this well-meaning teacher continued to interject expressions of alarm. It made me incredibly uncomfortable to see what had been for me a calming, reassuring lesson in persisting in spite of doubts turned on its head.

I saw this same discomfort with others' uncertainty present in the faith-filled responses of many. I am very glad that there are so many strong members who have not struggled with this issue. If you are one of them, I commend you. I also ask though, that you be patient with the rest of us. This is a sensitive issue that can merit some deep concerns. They will likely not be resolved in immediate response to something seen on social media, or shared by friends. It is great that you have answers as to why this thing is right and good, but those are your answers. You can feel free to share them if it feels right, but be prepared to realize that they may not assuage the anxiety of those in the midst of questioning. They will need to find their own answers in their own time. As much as we may wish to fix the problems of others and heal their hurts, we can't always do so. Occasionally, we may only offer hugs and prayers as others undergo their trials of faith. They, in time, can be prepared to do the same for us when we encounter our own uncertainties.

I think it's worth noting that not everyone who asks why is on their way to leaving the church. For those who are, it is not something that will come easily. Many who leave have struggled to stay for a long time. The gospel has become an integral part of them, and separating themselves from something that has been so dear to them for so long causes a great deal of pain. I think that whether our doubts lead us to apostasy or not, we all need a gentle environment in which to question.

Remember those things we believe but don't need to share? I keep hearing a lot of people saying, "I see this as a weeding-out of members." *Cringe.* I don't doubt that this issue will try many. It may even be a reason for departure from the church for many. I'm not going to bring that opinion to a public forum where struggling members may read it. 

You know the thing about weeding? I have zealously weeded strange plants from my flower beds only to discover months later that these "weeds" were some of the most beautiful flowers. I just wasn't familiar enough with them to properly distinguish them from weeds. We also learn from the parable of the wheat and the tares that if we attempt to weed in areas where wheat and tares have grown together, pulling the tares can result in the loss of some wheat. For that reason, tares were allowed to grow up with the wheat, and were sorted after harvest.

This is not my garden. These wheat, tares, flowers, and weeds are real people--our friends, our family, and those in our neighborhoods. Their souls are what's at stake here, not just a few missed flowers. That is why I trust the care of this garden to an all-wise gardener. As Hugh B. Brown's brilliant talk (which was made into a lovely Mormon Message) states in its title, "God Is the Gardener." This entire issue is one that I don't completely understand. My only peace comes from knowing that God is the one who is doing the weeding and pruning. Let's leave that to Him, please.

As we engage in tricky discussions, let's do our best to make our love and understanding increase relative to the sensitivity of the issues. While we may speak out in favor of our beliefs or correct factual inaccuracies, we should engage in such discussions with the utmost care. Regardless of whether we fully accept changes yet or not we all need love at this challenging time. Allow time for the Spirit to work in others so that they may receive their own answers and support them. Realize that, despite your wishes, you may not have their answer, and that's okay. Above all, remember that we are all children of God, and our words can deeply affect each other. 

"Be thou humble; and the Lord thy God shall lead thee by the hand, and give thee answer to thy prayers.

I know thy heart, and have heard thy prayers concerning thy brethren. Be not partial towards them in love above many others, but let thy love be for them as for thyself; and let thy love abound unto all men, and unto all who love my name."

(D&C 112:10-11)

Hard Decisions: In Defense of the Vanilla I Have Chosen

I once had a teacher share a story about a sports team whose motto was “Vanilla. Choose the hard thing!” (or something like that). The saying was supposed to represent the difficulty in life when decisions have to be made. In an ice cream shop filled with many options, what's harder than skipping the extravagance and going for the plain, boring, and traditional vanilla? Sometimes those are the decisions that have to be made, right?

But there are people who actually like vanilla. On a recent trip to the store, my little sister was allowed to choose the ice cream. After looking over all the options, she opted for vanilla. As my mom and I teased her about how unacceptable vanilla was (“What sorts of choices will you make in your life if you can't even properly choose ice cream flavors?”) and she pretended she had made a hasty decision (“Cookies and cream? Yeah! I didn't even see that one!”), we went with the more interesting flavor and abandoned vanilla. But I could see by the look in her eyes that she really would have liked vanilla. After all, when you rarely get ice cream, even vanilla is a treat.

As a vanilla person myself, I understand this. And when I say I'm a “vanilla person,” I don't simply mean that I enjoy vanilla Frostys more than their original counterpart. I mean that I'm somewhat bland in comparison to some of the other people here in the ice cream shop of life. I don't skydive and live dangerously. I'm not gorgeous or famous. I'm not trying to cure cancer or rid the world of hunger because I've already accepted that those aren't the stars for which I'm shooting anymore.

It wasn't an easy conclusion. Like every child in America, I was raised on school assignments of “What Would You Do If You Were President of the United States?” and fantasies of becoming a pop star over night. Admitting my mediocrity in the world was tough—and I'm not saying this in a dejected, woe-is-me way. I'm just saying, in a matter-of-fact way, that I'm like everyone else. I mean, I think I'm cool, but it's just an average kind of cool. So, I gave up my more far-fetched ambitions of being a real-life princess-astronaut who moonlights as Bill Nye the Science Guy's assistant and “settled” for something rather vanilla by comparison that I had dreamed of doing far before anything else.

Thus, I became a mother. And I do believe that so far, it has rivaled my previous dreams for excitement, joy, and all-out flavor. The thing about vanilla ice cream, choices, and people is that we are flexible. We go well with chocolate syrup, birthday cake, and sprinkles. We do well in all sorts of circumstances, and no matter what the other options might have been. And as one who likes vanilla, I'm quite happy with the choice I have made, hard as it may have been. I've got all the sweetness I could ever want.

Haircuts

I have an inescapable urge that has become hard for me to argue with. Although I normally get feelings that I want to cut my hair, I am able to shake them off and convince myself that's not really what I want in life. Now, though, it feels like part of my identity. I mean, I had my first child over two months ago; isn't it about time that I got a “mommy” haircut?

It's been a few months now that I've been considering chopping my hair off. I've gotten a major haircut about every four years since 5^th grade. It's been over five years now that I've been putting this off. I've cut in bangs as a compromise and since grown them out again. I repeatedly tell myself that any haircut will be like that—a passing fancy that will take years to grow out. It always is.

The truth of what pushed me over the edge? I tried to watch an episode of Battlestar Galactica. (Hangs head in shame.) The first episode was a bit racy for my tastes, but before I turned it off, I was tempted. And my temptation came in the form of a naughty thought: “Hmm . . . that sexy Cylon sure has great hair.” And that's all she wrote. (Though, she obviously wasn't me, because I'm still writing.) I immediately went to the computer and Googled “wavy chin length haircuts.” This minor infraction led to an even greater evil: the establishment of a Pinterest account. (My head slips even lower in the ignominy of the whole situation.)

Saturday morning, I was ready to go for it. There are such cute hairstyles available! I don't know if any of them would actually look good on my head, but they sure look great on the people who have them. Every time I looked in the mirror at my less-than-great Saturday hair, I thought about doing something different. If someone would have knocked on my door and said “I'm here to cut your hair,” I would have said “Let's do this!” Now, though, I'm a bit more hesitant.

First off, I hate caving to peer pressure. If every sexy Cylon got a cute short haircut would I jump off a cliff? Absolutely not; that's completely illogical! I might follow suit and get a haircut, though.

There's just the main problem that my hair is naturally straight more than it is curly. I keep justifying that with less hair weighing me down, I might be able to coax my remaining locks to cooperate in a bit of a wave, but I don't want to spend much time in styling. There's also the issue that I hate for that much hair to go to waste, but Locks of Love, the group that I've donated through each time before, requires 10 inches of hair. I don't know what that means for my future hairstyle. There's also the “What if I don't like it?” factor. Well, if that happens, I suppose I can grow it again for the four years. I've done it before, and I'll probably do it again.