Will You?

I know that God is real. He is the ruler of the Universe. Truly Good. Honest. True. Understanding. Loving. Just. Merciful. Perfect.

He is my Father - the Father of my soul. He loves me... and He knows my thoughts, hopes, dreams, desires, wants, and needs better than I know myself. 

God wants me to be truly happy... and so He created a Plan for me. Mortality - and within that mortal life, experiences chosen to help me to grow, to push and stretch me, to enable me to find true happiness and eternal life.

Mortal life would be the most difficult experience I had ever faced. While it would offer me the best possible opportunities to return to God, it also held the possibility that I would choose to turn away. The circumstances of life would be so hard that I would ultimately have only two choices: either humbly submit completely to God, or turn away from Him and choose my own path.

I know that God is in control. The things in my brain - whether my attraction to men, the depression I faced, or anything else - weren't just flukes of nature, forced on me by birth. They were carefully selected for me - to try and test and bless and comfort and transform my soul. The things that happen to me outside my control are also not happenstance. God is all-powerful, and that means that He is in control - completely in control - of everything that happens and everything that is. Sometimes He causes things to happen; other times He allows them to happen. Either way He is in control... and His ultimate grace is that *everyone* will have all they need to return to Him. And so all those circumstances, and all the experiences of life beyond my control, are part of His Plan. Whether they seem torment or bliss in the moment, whether I call them blessings or trials, everything in life is His Gift to me, with every single point perfectly designed to lead me back to Him. Life is not unfair... but it is far beyond equality or even fairness. In reality, the deck of life is stacked in my favor, with each and every circumstance chosen by a loving God specifically for me.

God knew that I would falter. That the experiences and trials and temptations of life, in order to have the strength to change my soul, would also leave me bruised, battered, broken, hopeless, and alone. Alone, I would fail, and, marred from my own decisions, I could no longer stand in His presence.

And so He chose one of His Sons - Jesus Christ - to do something I don't truly comprehend. Christ would come to Earth as the literal, physical Son of God, live a truly flawless mortal life, and then suffer and die for the imperfections of my mortal existence. His death and Resurrection would then allow Him, as my personal Savior, to show a path for me - His younger brother - to return Home.

God knows that path to happiness, but I've forgotten. So He tells me what I need to do. He speaks to prophets, gives me scriptures, and, in answer to my prayers, He touches the depths of my soul with knowledge of what I should do.

It's not easy. It was designed to be the hardest possible experience of eternity because only that would do to change my soul. Most of the time I don't understand. An important part of mortality is determining what choices I will make, without knowing all the answers. Will I have the faith to follow God in difficult paths, even if I don't understand? Will I have the humility to let God guide my life even when I'm afraid, alone, hurt, or struggling to survive?

Temptations and trials are real. They offer real, tangible, and sometimes immediate benefits. Sleeping in, rather than reading the scriptures, is far easier. Keeping the law of chastity - and understanding the personal aspects where it applies to me - when the world and my hormones are pushing me to do otherwise is a hard thing.

But temptations wouldn't be temptations if they didn't offer something valuable... and true temptations have to offer something beyond just value. True temptations, to have the strength to change the core of my being, have to require me to place *everything* on the altar of sacrifice. To consecrate everything to God... and prove to myself and to Him that I am willing to follow Him and choose the right, no matter how hard or difficult it may seem.

And so it is. My desire to understand and lift others is contrasted by autism. My desire for unwavering optimism contrasted by bipolar disorder. And my desires to have a family of my own, to be a father, to feel loved, and to fit in contrasted by same-sex attraction and everything else.

But those contrasts truly do change me. Bipolar depression fractured my dreams, but then taught me new ones... and pushed me outside myself to lift others in need. Autism and its desolate loneliness brought me to know God and feel His love when nothing else could bridge the chasm. Same-sex attraction taught me, above all, humility - learning to have faith in God's promises, His timing, His ways, and His commandments even when the things I want (love, a family, children of my own) may seem impossible given the current circumstances.

I know that God is real. That He is in control. At the end of the day, I can either choose to follow Him, trust Him, and believe Him... or to follow, trust, and believe myself instead.

I've made mistakes, and had to follow the road of repentance. I'm sure that my life will be full of failure and frustration as well as triumph and joy. But in the end life is a choice.

I choose to follow Him. I choose to believe Him. I choose to trust Him... even though I don't know what tomorrow will bring. 

Will I get married in this life? Will I have kids of my own to teach and love? Will I ever be able to understand people or honestly feel accepted or understood?

I don't know. 

But I choose to let God worry about the future and how it will all unfold. To let Him guide me. To let Him chart the path. I know that I'll make tons of mistakes, just like I have before. But I choose to follow Him no matter where He leads me, no matter how hard or even impossible following Him, or returning to the Plan, may seem.

And I invite you to do the same.

Will you?

Happiness vs Purpose

Someone asked me today if I was happy with my life. It was an honest question, which can be rare in a world built on insubstantial small talk.

I answered honestly. I am happy. I love my life, my Church, my family and friends, my work... and I'm definitely happy.

But the question made me think.

Happiness.

It's such a strange thing.

And so intertwined with other, sometimes seemingly exclusive principles:

Fun. Meaning. Purpose. Fulfillment. Achievement. Growth. Bliss. Pleasure.

Tonight after the Friday night rush, pulled a dozen different directions and feeling inadequate the entire time, was I happy? Not really. I was tired and wanting to figure out how to make busy Friday nights less stressful. Tonight was better than last week, but it's still definitely not there yet. So happiness can be fleeting.

But was I fulfilled? I just spent the last few hours helping other people feel happy. Enabling them to find a piece of something unique, experience something new, and open their minds. Mixed with the stress was an overlay of people who honestly had a great time and will probably tell their friends and remember those hours for months to come. And I designed that. My best friend and I, along with thousands of customers along the way, made that process happen. That's something special.

So this afternoon I felt happy, and tonight I feel fulfilled.

And that seems pretty normal for my life.

Being autistic has made the emotional aspect of life simple and complex. Complex because emotions are often extremely intense for me. Someone made fun of my voice tonight, and even thought it was light-hearted, trivial, and maybe even expected given the circumstance, I honestly felt like I had been hit by an emotional truck. I wanted to never talk again. Simple because when I feel those emotions, I can usually separate them from logic and then choose which path I really want to follow. I smiled, kept talking, and everyone took the joke the way it had been intended. Another memory - when I had the heart-wrenching realization that I might not be a dad in this life - which has been my biggest dream and hope and desired blessing for as long as I can remember - it threatened to rip me apart emotionally. I remember breaking into tears that wouldn't stop. For other people I've met, that same realization made them question their testimonies. I didn't. I don't remember where I was, but it was inconvenient at the time that I couldn't handle it emotionally.... so I put my emotions on the side, promised myself I'd figure it out, prayed for strength, went on with life, and then later processed my feelings in a blog post or journal entry.

I like to think that I value all of the seemingly exclusive goals - happiness, meaning, joy, fun, achievement, and growth - and that I'n unwilling to let myself fall for a path that subverts one for more of the other. I'm not willing to stay someplace that I'm not happy. But, then again, I'm not willing to go search for happiness somewhere where I'd lose part of the meaning in my life.

So when corporate recruiters talked to me and my classmates in the MBA program about uber-boring-sounding jobs with amazing pay... I wasn't excited. If someone said that I could "work my way" into a better position, that wasn't interesting. I made the decision that I would love my life forever... and if it stopped making me happy or giving me purpose, then I'd do whatever it takes to make it happen - always focusing on keeping both sides.

That's one reason why leaving the Church isn't an option. Yes, I could slowly let myself fall away from the gospel, and my testimony would ebb away perhaps slow enough to be imperceptible. Find people outside the gospel, and slowly let myself be pulled or pushed or drawn in that direction until I was far away. It happens. There could be a reason, an excuse, or something else at the beginning. But the deep reality is that, no matter how much I could fall away, I've had personal spiritual experiences intense enough that time and distance could never make them go away entirely. I would always know, deep down inside, that I had betrayed something I truly and deeply believed, something that I cared about, something that brought me incredible meaning even though it came at the price of dedicating my life. I could try to convince myself that living the gospel and finding joy was impossible, or that it was ok, or that it was better this way, or anything else, and maybe I could even do it. I convince myself of things all the time. But the God who heard my prayers when I needed Him, who sent me love in the form of people and feelings and rain, the God who loves me enough to let me live a life of complexity would assuredly prick my conscience one day down the road, and give me the chance to choose Him again. Would I be humble enough to follow?

I think that, in the long run, meaning and purpose should win out over temporary happiness... but that meaning and purpose should *bring* happiness as well. The people I've always admired most in my life are those who, even when dealt difficult lives and dismal futures, pursue meaning with dedication. King David, who, somehow, made a series of poor decisions and killed another man for his wife... but then spent a good portion of the remainder of his life praising God and trying to repent (at least, that's my idealistic view of it). Men whose wives leave them when they share their same-sex attraction or addiction to pornography, but the men make it back to the temple and the Church again. Others who have lived with gay partners or spouses and, hearing the missionaries or remembering their past, make the decision to change their lives and give up part of who they once were.

Gospel living - what should be the ultimate in meaning - should simultaneously bring happiness. Happiness isn't for the next life only. It's for now. Living in the gospel brings joy in people's lives, and if the gospel isn't doing it for me, then I can be totally sure that I am doing something wrong. (The gospel is never to blame - it is perfectly designed for every single human being in existence to help them find maximum happiness and purpose. So leaving the Church, while it may temporarily decrease external stress, wouldn't be a good decision if I'm looking to maximize my experience here on Earth.) Usually when I'm unhappy or unfulfilled, my perspective is to blame. I don't understand a principle, or I lack faith, or I don't trust that God knows what He is doing. In the past, sometimes it was addiction. Or severe depression. Or whatever.

But yeah. I guess my takeaway is that, while happiness can be transient, meaning is really, really important. So the way to live my life is to first find the things that bring the greatest meaning (the gospel foremost, helping people find joy, teaching, stuff like that), then, second, figure out how to find the greatest happiness within those meaningful bounds.

Which means that meaning (as a thing, or as a type of happiness) is more important to me than just happiness itself... since finding happiness within meaningful (and often difficult) circumstances can take some creativity and time.

I hope I can remember that the next time I'm super stressed, or facing a difficult decision, or bemoaning the fact that if life had gone according to my plan, I'd have kids of my own by now. Yes, living life the way God intended is always more difficult. But the growth, perspective, meaning, and fulfillment are always amazing... and, in the moments when I'm able to actually live and understand the gospel in its fullness, living life according to God brings happiness, joy, and bliss far greater than any alternative.

Life Without Love - a (Gay) Mormon Perspective

My younger sister got engaged yesterday. 

I got pictures of the proposal, the ring, and a bunch of smiling faces by text message while at work last night.

She's 6 years younger than I am.

That's totally unfair.

Don't  get me wrong. I hope that this brings her happiness, and I am glad that she is making decisions that will guide her future. But every time that I watch someone else find love (my siblings included), the beauty of the moment gets eclipsed by the juxtaposition of my own life.

I've done all the "right" things. I dated twice or more each week for over six years. I took every marriage prep and dating class available through the community, school, and church functions. I never turned someone down who asked me out in person. I went to therapy to work out my own personal issues and develop better relationship skills. I followed a rigorous personal health regime. I attended social functions, focused on being friendly and outgoing, served others, chose a valuable course of study, worked faithfully in community and church, met new people, worked and kept going even when nothing seemed to work. I asked out anyone anytime I felt like I should, even when dating seemed inconvenient. I even signed up for an eHarmony account and tried online and long-distance dating.

And the sum of all my efforts is pretty pitiful. Thousands of dollars and hours later, I'm no closer to finding love than I was when I began. I still get to listen to people who were engaged after less than a year of dating tell me what I'm doing wrong, and that if I just work harder, or work smarter, or have more faith, or repent, or read my scriptures, or go to another speed dating event, I'm somehow guaranteed to find love. Just do everything in my power, and then God will make it happen. Or I'll make it happen, by sheer force of will. 

And by simple inference, I hear that, since doing all those things hasn't worked for me, I've been doing something wrong. 

Or that there is something wrong with me.

The culture of love could have so easily ruined me.

Love - romantic, sexual love - is pushed from every side of life. Books, movies, advertisements, radio talk shows, department stores, greeting cards, Internet memes, chain letters, tax laws, religious writings, court cases... everyone and everywhere tells me the same thing: I deserve to find love, to be in love, to be loved, no matter what the cost or effort involved. Love is the goal. All I need is love. Find love and happiness will follow. Follow love wherever it takes me. Fight for love. Work for love. Do anything and everything I can to find it, then everything and anything I must to keep it. To many people, romantic love trumps all. There's nothing more important in life.

But that belief is broken.

Valentine's Day is a lie. Romantic love isn't the end-all course of human existence. It's likely an important facet of many or most people's lives, but for some, it's not in the cards of mortality at all - no matter how hard or smart or faithfully the search for it is done.

But the true tragedy isn't that.

When I've grown up in a world that tells me what to think, that tells me what to feel, and that tells me what I deserve, and then I realize that I don't fit the mold they used, I have only a few options.

I can believe them, and try harder. I did that for a long time. I believed that I was doing something wrong, and that if I could fix it, love would follow. Hence why I took classes, followed all the instructions, and even went so far as to seek and find cures for incurable mental diseases.

Work and wait long enough, though, and even the sturdiest rock will crack. And at that point in time, I realized that the people preaching to me - the media, the world, and even my well-meaning acquaintances and church goers - hadn't been telling me the truth.

At that moment I had only one option: find the truth for myself.

But after the world has lied to me, it's hard to trust anyone anymore. When someone tells me that I can, by force of will or effort, find love that isn't going to be found that way, I'm not going to turn to them for guidance in my faith. And anything else they've ever told me could become suspect. If they were wrong about love - and about how to find it - then maybe they were wrong about other things. Love is preached by worldly standards as the most important thing in life. If they got that wrong, what else is wrong?

I've seen thousands of people hit that realization. Being attracted to the same sex can cause it to happen, as can major mental illness, or other circumstances. Realizing that no matter how hard they try, it won't happen the way they wanted. Some people look inward, come closer to God, and choose to trust Him and His timing. They turn away from the entitlement taught by media, peers, and social norms, and humbly believe that God's Plan has other things in store for them. 

But far more keep believing that they deserve to find love, and turn against the people who told them how to find it. Family ties break, faith suffers. One simple doctrine, taught wrong and embedded into culture, crushes a temple of faith, and the destruction can last a lifetime.

I'm one of the lucky few.

By the time I reached that realization, I had already gone through fire. Depression and loneliness had pushed me to God, and I knew from experience that most people just didn't understand how wrong they were. Most people had good intentions, and pieces of what they believed were true... they just didn't know the whole truth because they had never been forced to find it.

I'm not embittered. Most of the time, I laugh inside when I hear people preach that love is easily attained - that just by working hard or smart or trying with all my might I could achieve one of the few things I've ever really wanted. I smirk when someone asks me why I'm not married, and my answers are often just as superficial as the comments I'd get if I bared my soul.

But along with the laughter is a realization that this culture - the culture of entitlement and focus and self-centered "if you work/serve/pray/whatever you'll get what you want or deserve" - is killing far more souls than it is amusing.

If you can hear me, I have a request for you.

Stop telling people that working harder or smarter will make all their righteous dreams come true. 

Stop telling people that love is the greatest thing on earth.

Stop telling people that they just need more faith, or more effort, or more motivation, to accomplish the goals the world, or you, have set for them.

Stop.

Instead, tell the truth.

Tell the hard, difficult truth that, for many people, it won't matter how hard or smart they work - they may never be able to overcome the obstacles that stand in the way of the things they want in this life.

Tell the truth that life is different for each of us, and that life is often unfair when we lack the perspective to understand. 

Tell the truth that, from God's perspective, life is just a moment - and that He designed an excruciatingly painful experience for some of us - one that may make us envy everyone we meet - to give us the best possible chance to become the people He sees in us.

And tell the truth that that's is ok.

I believe that romantic love is probably almost everything that people make it out to be. That it can make people into better people, fill a deep human need, and build the fabric of society. I believe that it's a valuable quest, a viable goal, and a good reason to work hard.

But I don't believe that romantic love is the end of all human existence.

For some of us, choosing who to marry may be the most important decision in our lives. But not for all of us. 

Some of us will find meaning and happiness in love and eternal family. Others of us will never find that love in mortality, or the love we do find will be skewed by the issues we face. But we can find that same happiness even without it.

For some of us, the goals and plans and expectations that society has set for us will match our lives exactly. And for others, we'll have to turn to God personally to find that path.

The title of this post is actually a terrible misnomer. Even people like me - and I have all sorts of issues revolving around love - can experience the peace and happiness that comes from the true love of God. Without Him, I would have turned away long ago from people who claimed to understand my life and give me advice. With Him, I've learned the truth. When nothing and no one else can get through depression, frustration, sadness, chaos, and the ever-present pressures of everyday life, God can still speak to my heart, if I'm willing to let Him in.

Introspection

I need to think.

In my past life, depression came often enough that I didn't have to schedule time to think about my priorities. It just happened anytime that life went downhill. Depression would take over, and force me to rethink everything important to me, focus on only the truly important things, and toss everything else aside. When it gave me back control, I was a new person.

Now, my life is just... busy. Busy enough that I could just keep going without having to stop and look at it all. Busy enough that I could go days, weeks, even months without needing to stop. I work at my shop (whether helping customers or coming up with crazy new ideas), spend time at Church, and spend time with people.

But I need to figure out my life.

The Soap Factory makes money, but is it what I want to do forever? There's plenty of money to pay employees, cover costs, and pay rent even with a recent downturn in tourist traffic, and our local cadre of customers keeps growing. People tell their friends, and the word spreads. I love watching people make their own creations, try new things, experience something totally unique and different. I still enjoy making soap because the process ensures that every soap will be different... and I do it almost every day.

But my mind and heart have been tugging at me recently, wanting room to push and experiment and try new things. It's the same issue I faced in all of my jobs - a need to constantly move, change, create something different, learn something new. A need to engage my mind in something epic, and when I've understood, to find something else.

The issue is that I'm not sure how to best use the resources I have to do that, and what would actually be a wise business decision on top of doing what I want. The Soap Factory needs help in marketing first and foremost, yet I have almost no passion there. And the model is stable and successful - why would we change it up?

Because I need it.

So it's going to happen.

I've been fighting myself for the last month over this. Part of me doesn't want change... but I'm not sure why, and I don't know where it came from. The other part of me wants to try everything under the sun, and see what works. To buy a 3D printer that we could use to print structures and make our own molds. To hold weekly classes on cold-process soap-making where people could come in and make cold-process soap, then come pick them up the next day. To hold classes on essential oils and the history of soap-making, and to do field trips into classrooms to teach the importance of  personal hygiene (and to share the dark side of antibacterial soap).

Maybe the part that doesn't want change is afraid.

But afraid of what?

Afraid of failure? Maybe. But I face so much potential failure each day. Failure is part of life.

Afraid of success? Maybe... but I don't even know what that would mean.

Afraid of...

Probably afraid of letting people down. Afraid of inviting people to a class where no one else comes, or to a seminar where the information is bland and boring. Afraid of going into a school and being unable to communicate well, and wasting peoples' time and money.

That's it.

That's what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of letting people down.

And that's also why this is such a different feeling for me. In the past, my decisions in work and career growth didn't really involve people... or they were in areas where I felt confident in my personal abilities (as faulty as placing that confidence may have been).

And, identified, it should be easier to get over the fear.

I need to recap.

I love my business and my job. The Soap Factory is making a difference, albeit small, in the community, and it's successful.

At the same time, I need constant change, growth, and intense learning experiences in my life, and especially at work.

But due to my own personal circumstances, I face fears that cripple my ability to make decisions, take risks, and act in my own best interest, likely lessening my own personal creativity and the impact I could have on others.

I think that I would benefit from a structure in my life that encouraged (or required) innovation, learning, and growth.

What if I set aside an innovation budget for myself that needed to be used each week or each month? It wouldn't be a ton, but it would require me to spend a certain amount of time and money each week/month trying something new.

And what if I just told myself to buy anything I wanted? Usually the things I want to buy are useful gadgets, or tools, or something that could make creativity better come to life and improve my life and the lives of others. The times I've let myself make purchases, most of the time it's a huge success. But even when it's not, it's still worthwhile.

But I have trouble spending money, especially on things for myself. The last time I went grocery shopping (Tuesday), I spent less than 7 dollars. And the last gadget I bought was only because it was cheaper to buy a woodburning kit and create my own hanging sign than it would have been to buy it from someone else.

*sigh*

This is a somewhat laughable problem. There are people in the world with major illnesses, a contagious virus that is destroying people's lives, war, famine, hunger, poverty, drugs, crime, violence, loneliness, immorality, slavery, and so much more... and yet I'm focused on whether or not I should let myself buy things for my business.

Which brings me to the other part of my self-talk:

Am I doing what I should?

Am I really making a difference in the world? Am I using the gifts that God has given me and helping people change their lives?

A big part of me says I'm not.

I don't do much to really help people in the Church with same-sex attraction. (G)MG may be a valuable asset in some people's lives, but I don't do much other than just write my thoughts. That's a valuable thing, and God gave me the ability to write so that I would... and it makes an important difference. But...

I also am not doing much with music. I wanted to start up Grace again, but I haven't done anything about it except tell my younger sisters and ask for their help in a vague, roundabout way. Someone asked me recently what performing I had done in the recent past, and there hasn't been much of anything for years.

I had a major health miracle (being cured of bipolar) from following a crazy diet, and yet I haven't gone on talk shows or spoken with anyone passionate who could shout the story far and wide. I haven't written a passionate book about it, or even written down everything that happened except for a few blog posts. Yet, if it worked for me, there's the potential that it could dramatically change the lives of thousands of other people for the better.

And a dozen other 'talents' have made their way under the bushel as well. But where do you use them as a young single adult? I used to be an awesome swimmer. Maybe I could train for the Olympics, but I probably wouldn't make it anymore.

Ok.

I have a goal. Or two goals. Or, perhaps better for me, two rules I want to follow.

I may not be able to drop everything and change the world today. Regardless of the decisions I make, I'm not going to be able to save everyone, and perhaps I'll even be a failure in the things I do... but it's worth trying from where I am, currently, and giving myself rules and guidelines to follow to progress.

Rule 1: Anytime I get the desire to try something new - and if the desire is deep enough that I keep thinking about it for days or spend hours fascinated by the pieces - I have to do it. Or buy it. Or try whatever it is... within a month, if plausible.

Rule 2: Anytime I get the desire to influence others, build others, do something specifically nice for my best friend that I'm not sure if he'll appreciate, or do something to serve people, again, I have to do it... and again, within a month.

There's no budget or allocation associated with these rules, which means that if my mind doesn't wander or pull me, I don't have to spend money. But that probably won't happen. Much more likely - if/when it does pull me, then I do have to make the plunge - and I can't use the excuse "that's out of my budget" to push the creative dreams aside.

This is scary. A month isn't a very long time, and I have a major backlog of creative pursuits that have been burning holes in my brain: ideas and wishes to make an impact. But it's also exciting.

Good luck, David. I think this will work.

A New Autistic Understanding of Empathy

Dear Self:

Today I had a thought.

I know that nothing happens in isolation. The circumstances of my life, whether big or small, personal or public, can deeply affect people on the other side of the world. Good things and bad things that happen to me can be incredible blessings to others, and each of us can learn from the experiences of others.

But it's more than that. I had a glimpse today into the reality that, perhaps, life circumstances are more connected to others (and more influenced by them) than I really understand.

My example: 

I often make people feel uncomfortable, sometimes just by existing.

(It's not on purpose; I wish I could do something to make it never happen again. I don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable, ever.)

Support?

Being attracted to guys makes some people uncomfortable. (Am I attracted to you? Maybe. It's unlikely. Even if I were, it wouldn't go anywhere. The law of chastity is pretty clear on that one.)

Being just autistic enough to be strange, but not enough to be obvious, makes some people uncomfortable. (Am I really that brash/proud/unthinking to not be able to pick up on what that person actually meant, or to break that social norm? Maybe. I'm just normal enough that people can attribute *all* of my social flaws to personality defects.)

Appearing highly confident (more like emotions just don't communicate as easily) can make some people uncomfortable.

Sounding "smart" (or having an obsession with selecting the right word for each sentence because of each word's inherent differences and nuances) can make some people uncomfortable.

Most of the things in my life can make people feel uncomfortable. And  many... and maybe even most... people have told me, and tell me, all the time, that they feel that way. That being in my presence (and it's magnified many times by those who spend a lot of time with me) makes them different... in a usually somewhat unpleasant way.

Side note.

When I realized that many people felt uncomfortable around me the first time... I immediately cut social ties with every person who was close to me but not family. The realization that I, just by existing, made people uncomfortable, was something I couldn't handle. Helping people feel loved and accepted and worthwhile is one of my biggest personal goals in life, and realizing that I was doing the exact opposite made me want to give up. I realized later that it was worth being around people even if it hurt me and them. Usually.

So I have a bunch of facets that can make me uncomfortable to be around. My best friend tells me that he feels inferior to me no matter how many times I try to build him up. My younger sister tells me that she doesn't feel creative when compared to me, even after creating really cool things. A girl once even went so far as to say that I was scarier as a judge (of her internationally acclaimed music performance) than the judges she was preparing for.

And what if God intended that?

What if God made me the way I am so that I could be a stumbling block? A stray thorn?

I realize that my trials can help people when they see or realize a greater perspective, but what if they're also designed to burden the people around me? To push them beyond their limits, try their patience, and bruise their self-esteem? What if my trials, the ones that burn me out and make me want to cry myself to sleep, were also sent to my family, associates, ward members, and everyone else in contact with me to try them as well?

Maybe this is obvious to everyone else, but until today it had never occurred to me.

When my sister got cancer, it wasn't my trial. It affected me, but not really all that much. When my brother had cancer, it was harder, but only because I was trying to help take care of him, our business, and graduate school all at the same time. I ran out of time and energy every single day, and that was my trial. The actual trial of leukemia never even got close.

I've talked with other people who had the same experience, and it had a massive impact on their lives. For some of them, it shook their faith. For others, it pushed them closer to God.

For me...

Maybe it's from the autism. Maybe one reason I struggle to empathize with people with experiences I haven't had is that they don't affect me the way they do everyone else. 

And perhaps that's also why it never occurred to me that my trials could be a burden to others.

Are there people who look at me and wonder the same questions I do? Are there people who can somehow feel the emotional pain hidden under the busy, successful outer layer?

I think there are.

And that adds a whole new facet to life. One that I hadn't thought about.

...

...

If I had had this insight/revelation six years ago, I think I would have made the decision to never reach out to people again.

Because my focus was on not hurting people. I knew that *some* people experience discomfort at the beginning of the relationship, but anyone who stayed got past that, right? And my problems were my own problems.

But they're not. My problems are your problems and his problems and her problems, and somehow just by existing the emotional pain I feel affects you.

That's why people have such a hard time with gay rights issues. And why news stories can affect political voting. And why so many people are deeply affected by things they know nothing about.

...

So what's my conclusion today?

I've realized that sharing who I am openly can make people hurt inside, as well my intended goal - to help them heal.

Do I, out of supposed care for the people around me, hide my problems so that others can't vicariously experience what I do? Do I coat myself with a thin, hard veneer such that people can't catch what's inside?

Thankfully, in the last few years I've learned something important about how God works... and something important about happiness.

Happiness isn't about having an easy life or having things the way I want. Happiness isn't about knowing all the answers or understanding why or how things will happen. Happiness isn't about knowing the future or being in control. It's about trusting God, and following Him.

Learning to be happy takes time. It takes work. And, in many cases, it takes a lot of difficult experiences. Sometimes those experiences are inside us. And sometimes they're not.

I don't know how I feel about my newfound understanding. It highlights a bunch of red flags I didn't even know I had. 

But I think I'm ok. This helps me in my goal to not be afraid. When I understand the things I face, I can measure them, rather than cower in fear of the unknown.

Now I understand why I've had therapists cry during counseling sessions. I never got it before.

So my life, as hard as it is for me, might be hard for others, too. The seeming unfairness I've had to struggle with could be a struggle for someone watching me. And my own painful pathway could inflict emotional wounds on others when we've never even met.

I don't understand it... because that's not how my life works. But I got a glimpse today that, maybe, that's how it works for others.

If that's how it works, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that anyone has felt my pain. And I hope that anyone watching me can find the light that I have... and feel the love of God as I have as well.

Update: Alternate Day Feasting

It's been two weeks since I began Alternate Day Feasting.

And I like it.

I honestly *really* like it.

I feel better about myself, I feel better in the morning, I feel better during the day. I love being reminded to study the scriptures, and after two weeks, I'm not as hungry on my fast days. So I'm going to keep going.

As a recap, this is how Alternate Day Feasting works:

1. On Day 1, I eat as much as I like. I'm still vegan and don't eat sugar, so food is still pretty healthy.

2. On Day 2, when I'm hungry, I drink a glass of water and study the scriptures. Don't eat at all.

3. If someone offers me food and today is a Fast day, take some for tomorrow. If I want to eat something specific, make a plan to eat it tomorrow.

4. Exercise regularly. When I exercise, I listen to scriptures using headphones. It's something I did for a long time, then stopped... and it helps me enjoy the time I spend working out.

I thought it would be a major social issue. Social events and activities are based on food - and when whether I eat or not on a given day changes each week, that *ensures* that there will be some hurt feelings and some people who will wonder why I'm not eating.

But it hasn't been that much of an issue. I've tried some crazy diets. And, interestingly, it caused far more stress for people in social situations when I was on a super-strict diet (like no carbs) than when I'm fasting. People seem to be okay with fasting in Utah... even if it's every other day. I haven't done any major holidays yet though.

I told my family about how it works, and convinced my younger brother to try it as well. He still acts the part of a cancer survivor, and I think this will give him some new life. One of my sisters wants to try it as well.

I'm excited.

I'll say it again, I *really* like this.

I'm not a huge fan of the hungry feeling that sometimes comes on fast days, but that has lessened dramatically. And I can eat tomorrow. :)

Some more specifics for people who, like me, like the nitty-gritty details about my version of Alternate Day Feasting:

5. Each day matches with a calendar day - so midnight to midnight. This is for multiple reasons. First: to make it simpler for me and others. Today is either a food day, or it's a fast day. Second: to make it easier at the hardest parts of fasting - the beginning and the end. That way this type of IF (intermittent fasting) approach is in practice more like a 30-18 or 36-12 (36 hours of fasting followed by 12 hours of food - if food happens between around 8am and 8pm on food days) than a 24-24.

5b. There is an exception to that rule. Fast days begin faithfully at midnight, so I need to finish eating before then. But food days don't begin until I've slept. Regardless of how late I stay up on a fast day (including past midnight), I don't eat until I've slept for the night. Part of that is hormone balancing - I feel like letting sleep be a differentiator for my body will help it understand what's happening. The other part is to motivate me to go to sleep on time.

6. I can add another fast day to the mix, but not another food day. It's not suggested, as the added fast day replaces a food day... and that means not eating for 3 days. Water fasting for 3 days won't hurt anyone who doesn't have hormonal or sugar imbalances... but I'm already going to be fasting 15 days a month. I think I'm good.

7. If Fast Sunday falls on a food day... then I'll either wait to eat until everyone else breaks their fast, or I'll have a special fast the day before. It doesn't change the cycle.

8. Holidays will be interesting. Because there are other people involved. But while it's totally not normal to fast at Thanksgiving... no one will disown me if I do, right?

While I may feel good about my diet and feel good physically, I have to be real with myself. Alternate Day Feasting isn't the best thing the world has ever seen. It's not going to fix all my problems. It may have some neuroprotective effects, but it isn't likely to cure autism. And while better physical health may give me better emotional resiliency, it's not going to make me superman by any stretch. 

Look at today as an example: I feel great physically, and most of the day I've been really happy. Today is a fast day. Then something emotionally rough came along. I say rough, but most people probably wouldn't think twice about it. In my case, I got knocked down, found myself second-guessing everything I try to do, and felt like garbage. I'll be ok in another hour. But my minuscule emotional and social capacity hasn't changed.

I'm excited. Tired, stressed, concerned for a dozen different things... but also excited. And that's a feeling I want to hold on to.

Socio-Emotional Armor

There are only a few things that make me hurt deep inside. Most of the time my emotional grief, while I may write about it passionately here on (G)MG, is fleeting. Tears dry, my memory somehow disappears, and the only proof it ever happened is stored on a blog server who knows where.

I sometimes use the metaphor of social armor. Some people have thick armor that keeps them safe from social blows (intended or not), and others don't. It's not a perfect metaphor, because there are different types of social impacts that can have dramatically different effects depending on who you are... but it sort of works. In my case, I don't have much, or any, armor - so even a grazing blow will probably make me bleed. Disappointment, betrayal, grief, frustration, and pain all hit me hard enough to make me concerned about melodrama. But underneath armor there's another part to the metaphor - how does your social self respond to actual injury? Does it allow deep cuts to fester and scar for a lasting memory? Does the pain cripple you for days or weeks? Or does it do something totally different? In my case, I feel like I heal quickly. So the grazing blow that caused minor bleeding or the vital strike that made me want to die stops as fast as it began, and it's like nothing even happened. And, in most cases, I honestly don't remember it.

Over the last few years, I've developed a set of social armor that deflects at least a few of the things that used to hit me hard, but there are some things that bypass the outside and hit me no matter what.

People are one of those things.

Specifically, watching people develop relationships. Watching people make friendships, fall in love, get married, have families, or just grow closer to the people around them... it's one of the most beautiful things to watch, and one of the hardest.

It's beautiful to watch my best friend with his family. To listen to their bantering, hear their jokes, know exactly when his mom is going to be exhausted with it all, watch them laugh, and feel the incredible bond between all of them.

But that beauty is bittersweet. My family is close. We talk and banter, joke and laugh, and when I'm with them, there are times that I feel like I belong. There are even times when I smile with my best friend's family. Yet the same socio-emotional body that stops the bleeding within moments rejects positive emotion as it does negative. Somehow, again within moments, all the feelings of belonging drain out, leaving only emptiness. I forget the experience just as quickly, and the emptiness pervades, no matter how many people are around me and no matter how deeply I draw on the emotional reservoirs I try to keep alive.

I think that's why being around people, and watching people develop relationships, is so hard for me. I've thought before that perhaps I just never felt like I belonged, and my life has been a constant search for that feeling - and that I envy people their progression because I've never felt anything like it. I've even written that here before. But I think reality is different. I think that sometimes I do truly fit in, that sometimes I do find situations where everything feels right. Life is literally perfect, and I'm simply happy to be with the people that surround me... but, for whatever reason, the feeling disappears just as fleetingly as it comes, and my memory wipes it just as fast.

Maybe.

I have tons of blog posts that explain social pain that I can't remember anymore... and hidden in the archives, I have others that talk about intense happiness that I've forgotten just as completely. I'm sure that I don't fit in as much as I wish I could, but perhaps the conflating factor of my experience isn't just not fitting in - maybe it's that fitting in doesn't have the lasting impact on me that I, or others, would expect.

If that's the case, and my bucket is constantly draining, that could potentially help me understand how to find greater emotional impact from situations that can be guided or structured.

Let's go back to the armor metaphor. 

If I have heavy armor, the best way to ensure minimum pain is to spread social trauma out over time. As long as everything is somewhat minor, and never more than just a grazing blow, nothing will get through. I'll be whole at the end of the day without much effort. Major blows cut right through and will probably leave major scars, give me motivation to make even thicker armor, and may take me out of commission for a while.

If I have no armor, or really light armor, the best way to minimize pain is actually the opposite. Grazing blows throughout the day would maximize pain, and even though I may heal quickly, they still happen. If there are ways to structure the social experience such that, instead of frequent grazing blows, I deal with infrequent massive ones, then the pain is actually minimized. Major blows will hurt, but disappear quickly and leave no mark.

I feel like socio-emotional armoring is designed to minimize pain. I've seen armoring grow as an effect of prolonged difficult situations like verbal abuse... and also as a result of major trauma like rape, betrayal, sexual abuse, or even catastrophic accidents. Armor can give people the ability to function in a difficult world while they work to heal major wounds. 

But oftentimes the socio-emotional armor that people create for themselves doesn't just affect the ability of social trauma to get inside. It also restricts positive social impacts... and so, perhaps, the armor metaphor doesn't just help me understand how to structure difficult social situations. It could also help me see how to structure positive ones to gain the greatest possible benefit.

I'm somewhat skeptical of this. But let's see where it goes. For those of you new to (G)MG, usually I don't write knowing where my thoughts are going to take me. I just write.

So if I have major socio-emotional armor, and I'm protected from minor negative situations, then perhaps I am also insulated from positive emotional ones. To maximize my personal happiness, I'd want to seek out major positive experiences, then draw out the deep, lasting impact of those experiences over time. Little daily positive things aren't as likely to give me joy as events or situations that can bypass the armor and get inside.

For me, since I don't have much socio-emotional armor, and good feelings disappear just as quickly as bad, it's more important for me to have small, frequent positive encounters than to have major ones. Big experiences may bring big happiness, but they won't last for long, and a handful of smaller experiences could bring the same total result with potentially much less planning or effort.

That was definitely not where I was planning to go with this post.

I was thinking it would be about the difficulty of watching people develop relationships, and then introspection into how I could improve my own relationships, how I could be a better friend, or how I could overcome my fears. I even wrote a paragraph about all the different people that made me envious thinking it would fit somewhere later in the post. It didn't.

So...

I don't have any desire for social armoring. But I do want to be happier in my life. I have some control over negative social situations, but I heal quickly, and controlling negative social situations is about pain mitigation, not improving happiness , so that's probably not the most important place to put my focus. So maybe I'll try to work on the positive side... and find lots of little things to make me smile.

...

I wonder how it works for everyone else. Maybe it works the same way - and some people will need big, planned events, and others will need little ones that happen all the time. And if I can match the ways that I serve people to their personal needs - whether big or small - then I can have a greater impact on their lives. I think I'll talk to my best friend about that and see if it matches... then figure out how to structure positive and negative experiences in our friendship. 

I think I may already know the answer.

Alternate Day Feasting

I'm trying a new eating lifestyle to see how I like it. I call it "alternate day feasting." Most people would call it alternate day fasting, but I want to remind myself to feast on the scriptures during the time I don't eat every other day... and why focus on not eating, when I get to eat whatever I want tomorrow?

I've been drawn to it for a while, and have just begun to try it. With alternate day feasting, I eat whatever I want (my norm anyway - anything vegan without sugar) on Day 1, then I just drink water and don't eat any carbs (or much at all) on Day 2. The goal is to move my body into processing ketones, but allowing me to keep a mostly normal lifestyle every other day. Sort of. People tout longevity, better immune function, and a host of other pluses as positive benefits to alternate day fasting.

Usually I have something pushing me to do things like this. At the core, I don't have a burning reason for this one - just a tug at my mind that's been there for a while. And I got a bunch of chia seeds on sale. Chia seeds don't have any carbs, are great to eat alone, and are awesome to eat on my almost-fasting day. I don't want to follow an optimally-balanced-weigh-out-all-your-food-and-only-eat-exactly-what-you-need diet, but I'd definitely like to continue to improve my health. I still have major issues that maybe diet could influence. 

I'll see how it turns out, how I feel, and how the social consequences run. I read somewhere that I should feel hungry for the first 4-5 fasting days, or until my body has gotten used to the longer cycle and doesn't need quick carbs to function. I'm sure hungry right now. But I can eat tomorrow... and I got extra scripture study in today.

Open Again

The move is complete. Nature's Fusions is moved to its new location, and The Soap Factory opens its doors again tomorrow for customers at our new location on center street in Provo. The last few weeks have been stressful and chaotic - trying to move the store, then simultaneously maneuver all the legal issues, tax and licensing, more licensing and fees, plumbing and power and gas and signage and parking and new equipment to make the space look beautiful.

It took a lot of time. I guess it took longer the last time we opened a store... but this time we were on a time crunch. It just felt like a lot of long days, with me and Mitchell putting in lots of hours.

But we open tomorrow, which means that we're ready. Well, we have to be ready even if we're not.

The chaos of moving overlapped with New Years. This year I just went to sleep on New Years Eve. I didn't go anywhere or do anything... I just went to sleep.

My goals this year are across the board. One is to take better care of my body. I already eat well, but exercise has been sporadic. With a gym literally next door and a membership where I can take a friend each time I go, I'm hoping that this year can be different.

Another goal is to be more positive. This one ties to my main goal for the year - to be less afraid.

When people meet me, the last thing they imagine me to be is afraid. Proud? Probably. Outgoing? Maybe. Awkward? Yeah. Shy? If you catch me at a difficult time. But afraid? No. Not David. And yet I am. I live in constant, ever-present fear. 

Very few people have ever been able to see my fear. Most see the person I am trying to be - outgoing, passionate, friendly, happy - and can't see past the outer shell to see deep into who I am. 

The reality is that sometimes I sit at home alone in tears because I am afraid to call or text someone, afraid to go outside, and afraid to do anything but sit there. 

I know that sounds melodramatic. And absurd. It is. It's also real.

Some of my fears are unfounded - I could probably go watch a movie on Netflix without anything terrible happening in my life. 

Other fears are rooted in experiences from my life. If I call someone, or text them, or email them, there's a good chance that I'll do something that will stress our relationship... and then the friendship will be over. Even if I have a good excuse, it may still happen. With a couple relationships, I feel comfortable enough that I can make a phone call or send a text without jeopardizing everything, but most never get to that point.

Is that logical? Maybe. Maybe not. But it is a constant, real fear that I face, and it literally keeps me from doing anything with anyone, ever, or reaching out to others unless there is a good excuse, unless I'm invited first. Life is about reciprocity, and gripping fear makes it close to impossible for me to join.

So my goal this year is to be less afraid.

I don't know how it will happen, or what to do to make it happen. The fear is founded on bad experiences, so maybe making good ones will help it go away. But am I appreciably different from the guy who destroyed fledgling relationships not that long ago? Or will it just be the same end result?

Even if I am still the same person, maybe it's worth overcoming the fear anyway. Fear doesn't come from God. Faith does. Blind faith doesn't, and I can be aware that I'm walking on dangerous ground... but I can learn to have faith in God and trust Him even if everything goes wrong. In some situations, it hasn't gone all wrong. I greet people at Church because I want to reach out, and I don't think anyone hates me for that.

I guess that's my answer. It's worth trying for a lot of reasons. Opening up and showing the real me is something worthwhile. Because people are worthwhile. Because I'm worthwhile. And because overcoming fear is a good thing to do, even if all the fears come true.

I have a long way to go.

One Little Candle

Today was our ward Christmas program. My younger sisters sang a song called "One Little Candle." It was beautiful, but I didn't understand all the words during the program. I came home, found the music, played it on the piano... and cried.

The song starts out simple. But the second verse begins:

One little word to someone new...

One little deed of kindness too...

Kindles the friendship flame anew...

Soon the loneliness is gone.

...

Ironically, this verse captures both essence and anathema of my life. One of the things I care about most is helping people feel wanted and loved... so I'm the person who greets & tries to befriend new people in my ward, the author here at (G)MG, and the owner of a shop where anyone can make something beautiful. Most of the things I do are driven by people, from the person I've never met to my best friend.

And it's worth it. Being outgoing, showing kindness brings rewards that nothing else does. I get to watch people learn to smile, find new hope, and become new people. Having someone who honestly cares when no one else seems to understand can make all the difference.

The bitter irony of the verse is this: For many people who are truly outgoing and friendly, the blessings go both ways. They have no lack of friendship - their loneliness, too, is gone - and they develop close friends from the many around them. 

"Soon the loneliness is gone" doesn't really apply to my life. Yes, the loneliness goes away when God takes it away. Other times it gets locked in a box when I'm too busy to worry about it. But it's still there... and no amount of kindness, from my side or sometimes even from others, can make it go away. Most of the friendships I kindle with kindness are stepping stones or waypoints on a journey to something else. People realize, either consciously or no, that I'm different, awkward, and broken. And so they move on.

Sometimes I feel like I need someone to put their arm around me and let me cry into their shoulder. Or to listen as I just talk about all the things I wish I could change in my life. Or to be physically in the same room, not because they feel obligated or want something or admire me or are attracted to me, but because they honestly care.

The reality is that someone could do all those things, and more. It would make a difference. But it wouldn't take the problem away. It could chip away the outside, but the core would stay whole. People have moved mountains and done countless things for me... yet I'm still the way I am.

Part of my feeling this way could be the holidays. I began writing a blog post on Christmas Eve about how much I couldn't stand holidays - here was the beginning:

>>

Can I be honest? Totally honest?

I want quiet. I want to be alone. And I want there to be no more holidays.

Being with family is great for the first ten minutes. But then it plunges into constant, loud, insistent chaos. It makes me concerned that someone will push me over the edge and make me yell at people and cry or rip my hair out just so that I don't have to deal with it.

>>

The holidays are loud, overwhelming, and chaotic. That usually means I have to look for time to retreat and find quiet. In this case, I was really sick yesterday - the day after Christmas. And during the quiet that brought, I thought about my life.

I *am* lonely. But I've been lonely for a long, long time. First I fought it, then I prayed for it to go away, then I fought it more in every way I could fathom. I've read books and studies on communication, gone to see therapists and counselors, tried medications and lifestyle changes, and pushed myself far beyond my comfort zone. And then I finally accepted it. A while ago I realized it probably would never go away - that, most likely, God has given me this so that I'll always remember to reach out to the people around me. That realization killed both hope and pain.

All the fighting, while it hasn't changed my feelings, has taught me how to be a better person. How to apologize. How to listen. How to watch for cues and signals and signs, and little bits and pieces of what they mean. What it means to really show someone I care. And all the things I can improve to better show kindness to the people around me. From that perspective, it was worth it. 

(I guess.) 

No. It was worth it. It is worth it. *People* are worth it.

But there's something else. Some people must have some type of ability to break through to me - else why would I be so deeply drawn to them? Why would I crave friendships, yet also push some people away? It doesn't make sense that just because I'm lonely I would reach out to help others avoid my same fate... or does it? Maybe I love people enough to give without getting anything in return, or maybe God aligns blessings with when I reach out, or maybe something in some of my relationships with people actually fills a need, albeit partially, deep inside me.

...

I don't know.

Talking like this makes me wonder if I should let myself hope again. Tonight I'm too emotionally exhausted to deal with that demon, and I probably still have a fever from yesterday. I blame anything wrong with this post on the flu.

Maybe someday I'll understand it all. Maybe someday it will all make sense. For right now, I'll just keep trying to be a good person. To be friendly. To be kind. To be a friend to the people around me the best that I can. Perhaps it may not meet the needs I wish it would, but sharing the light of Christ helps others find their way... and that's worth it. That sounds like a good thought.

Happy Birthday. Merry Christmas. God is Love.

I turn 30 today.

Happy birthday. :)

My life the last few weeks have been hectic and stressful. Holidays always are, and moving my business at the same time has made it even more so. Thankfully, I've had time just to sit back and enjoy - to watch the snow fall, or sing Christmas carols, or look up at the night sky.

I've begun posts about Christmas over a dozen times. I've tried to share my feelings in just the right words, to tell stories that make sense and give justice to an infant Savior. But nothing works. Nothing feels right. The words sit on my phone screen and don't communicate the feelings I have and the real meaning of Christmas.

I'm going to try again.

I know that Jesus Christ is the literal Son of God. That He was chosen in the beginning to be our Savior and Redeemer. That He spoke to prophets of His coming and revealed the pathway that would lead us all to eternal happiness. 

I know that He was born to Mary and raised by mortal parents... yet grew into a perfect God. I know that He lived, taught, served, suffered, and died for me, and that He lives again in a perfected body of flesh so that I can live again.

 I know that He felt my pain, my sorrow, and suffered for my sins. Even the feelings I couldn't imagine anyone else understanding He understands... because He felt them to better love me and help me overcome the world.

I know that He restored the Priesthood to the prophet Joseph Smith, and brought His Church back to the earth for us today. I know that He speaks to prophets and guides the modern Church with a steady hand... and I know that following His teachings, counsel, commandments, and advice will always bring greater lasting happiness than any other alternative.

I know He is the great Healer. That He knows me and understands me. That He is there for me even when I've pushed Him away or forgotten how to hear His voice. That He will always be there - not distant, but standing beside me every step of every day. My life is the Gift He gives to me... and as I follow Him, He makes me into a better man than I could ever become on my own.

Yes, following Christ and giving my soul to the Child born in a manger will make life hard forever. True strength and growth comes from overcoming obstacles and triumphing over circumstances. And He will be with me.

I know that Jesus is my Savior. That He lives and loves me. And that His way is the right way and will always be.

That feels right.

Merry Christmas, friends. May God bless you with a feeling of His love, the ability to see His hand all around you, and the generosity to share the Gift of Christmas.

(Un)finished

Sometimes blogging inspires me. And sometimes it stifles me. 

Today I'm feeling both. 

I started half a dozen posts yet finished none of them. And half-finished thoughts are, honestly, best left alone until they find their other halves.

I felt like just saying that life is good. Most of my published writing is full of complicated emotions, chaos, and stress. And while that's definitely a facet of my life, it's also only one facet. Most of the other facets are crazy, funny, happy, or whatever else I'm feeling.

Feelings that don't always come through here. 

I'm not completely sure why. Part of the reason could be that I've painted myself into a corner. I feel like things are only worthy of being on (G)MG if they seem useful. And then when I'm having a good day, I don't blog about it because I'm just having a good day. It's a lot harder, for me at least, to write about good things. It's ironically much easier to see the hand of God when I'm going through some type of deep emotional turmoil.

Either way, life is good. I have a lot to do and a lot to change and improve, but the gospel offers an amazing promise:

If I do my part, everything will work out for the best. The road will be rocky, chaotic, and probably nothing like I expect or want, but the final destination will be better than anyplace I could have found on my own.