Adios, Amigo

It's been nearly two months since my friend Jared very unexpectedly passed away. I haven't written anything about this till now because I've been trying to collect my thoughts and use the right words. I still don't know if I have those words. But here goes anyway.

Jared was my friend. (Is there a loftier title for someone not related to you by blood who chooses to be a part of your life? I can't think of one.) I knew him for more than two decades, and with all of life's changes—his first marriage, address and job changes, health challenges, his second marriage, then my  own marriage—he remained my friend. He was interested in me and my life and kept inviting me to do things with him and our mutual friends, many of whom I wouldn't have met if not for him, through those changes.

The older I am, the more I've realized what a rare blessing it is to have friends like this. So many others become either mere acquaintances or strangers; and though you might see them on Facebook or other social media channels once in a while, they otherwise disappear completely from your life. My experience has shown me that it's not that common to count on friends to continue to show up in your life over the years.

He had his quirks. For example, there was the time we were playing ultimate Frisbee, and the disc got thrown into and lost somewhere inside a tall patch of weeds; Jared got in his car and plowed into the middle of the weeds to retrieve the Frisbee. There were also group games we'd play, only with Jared around, like "Spin the Body" (trust me, you had to be there). Or the night of playing Balderdash when every answer turned into made-up trivia about John Denver (sorry, Kirsten).

If you knew him, you knew that Jared sometimes did other odd things and could sometimes rub people the wrong way. (Nobody's perfect.) In spite of that, Jared also possessed the ability to reach out to and include other people—people who often wouldn't be included by others—in his activities, parties, and game nights. It is a trait which I admired greatly and have tried to emulate in my own life.

I don't know if he quite knew just how important video game nights playing Halo, Rock Band, or San Francisco Rush 2049 were to me during a period of my life during which I was severely depressed. Very few people in my life know just how bleak things got for me, and it didn't get better for a long time. Yet one constant was video game night every other Friday night at Jared's house, and it gave me something to do and got me out of the house when little else could.

Jared was also among those who made it out to see me perform improv, a unique accomplishment considering many friends and acquaintances have had other plans on literally every single Friday night for the past 13+ years I’ve performed in Davis County. (No, I’m not calling anyone out. Just sayin’.)

The photo below is from a murder mystery dinner Jared, mutual friends of ours, and I participated in on February 15, 2003. The theme was "Roman Ruins," which is why we're all dressed up in togas and such. I played Caesar, ergo the crown of leaves:

About a year-and-a-half ago, Jared and I had an argument online. Why and about what—that's no longer important. I felt like he was the instigator and had said some things that were uncalled for and also weren't true. After that, we didn't speak for several months.

Then out of the blue, around Christmas time last year, he contacted me to apologize. He was sincere, he frankly admitted he had made what he called an "inexcusable" mistake, and he asked for my forgiveness. How could I not say I forgave him? I felt his request was in earnest, and. freely, I told him I did forgive. Between people who had been friends as long as we'd been, I told him I owed him the to never bring up the matter again.

I'm so glad, so incredibly relieved we had that talk. Had the silence between us gone on much longer, it might've been too late to make amends in the here and now. Regret is a painful emotion. Fortunately, I will have that memorable experience to look back on at future Christmas seasons.

This experience led me to recall the sage counsel of President Howard W. Hunter, which was given at Christmas time but is applicable throughout the calendar year:

"This Christmas, mend a quarrel. Seek out a forgotten friend. Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust. Write a letter. Give a soft answer. Encourage youth. Manifest your loyalty in word and deed. Keep a promise. Forgo a grudge. Forgive an enemy. Apologize. Try to understand. Examine your demands on others. Think first of someone else. Be kind. Be gentle. Laugh a little more. Express your gratitude. Welcome a stranger. Gladden the heart of a child. Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the earth. Speak your love, and then speak it again."

This is wonderful advice. I know from firsthand experience that it matters a lot. If something like this is unresolved in your life, I invite you to do what you can to make amends today, and to do it now. It may be too late tomorrow.

A Pandemic, a Quake, and a Quarantine ... Oh My

What a year we've had this past month ... amirite?

It's not like Paco needs to tell you what's been going on out there since he last blogged, but for the sake of future generation(s) or the cave dwellers who may be reading this post: The coronavirus, or COVID-19, has reared its ugly head into each of our lives in a matter of a few, short weeks. Originating in Wuhan, China, and spreading across the globe, it has changed things for all of us in countless ways.

Many businesses have had to close their doors and numerous public gatherings and events have been canceled in order to help contain the spread. A "stay home, stay safe" order for many of us means that the only exceptions for leaving home right now are for work (those who are "essential"), grocery shopping/takeout, or for medical needs. We've learned new terms like social distancing as we've each tried to lessen the spread and to weather the storm of this disease.

I remember watching the news the night when the first diagnosis was announced here in Utah. Then that number became a few more people, then a hundred, then 300, and currently it's (the last I saw) over 1,800 infected here in our lovely Deseret. The United States, at the moment, leads the world in the number of COVID-19 diagnoses, especially in larger cities like New York City.

JB and I have been fortunate enough to be able to continue to work throughout all of this (JB from home), but we are keenly aware that not all of our friends and neighbors have been so lucky. Many are worried about the economy, whether they're still going to have jobs when this thing is over, and how they're going to make ends meet until then.

If dealing with all this wasn't enough, we out of nowhere experienced a strong earthquake here in Utah (5.7 on the Richter scale) at approximately 7:09 a.m. the morning on March 18, with its epicenter in nearby Magna. Yours truly was asleep, but it sure gave me a rude awakening. A number of aftershocks followed it that day and have occurred in the weeks since then.

You can't spell pandemic without the word panic. As one who already dealt with anxiety and depression on a daily basis prior to these new challenges, I've had all sorts of thoughts and feelings about these events---not all of them optimistic nor, admittedly, rational. I've had some really hard days mentally, while other days have been ... just okay.

Then, just in time, came general conference this past weekend. Never did it come at a time when I needed it more.

Under the circumstances, the sessions were not held in the Conference Center but rather in a small auditorium at the Church Office Building. Only the First Presidency and each session's speakers and prayer givers were present. Even the Tabernacle Choir members were not there; prerecorded broadcasts of the choir's former performances were aired as the musical numbers instead.

Not once did I hear from any speaker any doom or gloom about our current situation, which was not in any way ignored. They, in fact, acknowledged it directly but also spoke of it as a temporary difficulty and a trial that will pass in time. I heard only faith and optimism in the messages that were given.

While church meetings have been temporarily suspended and temples have been closed until it is safe for them to resume and reopen, the home is now the de facto sacred refuge for us as Church members. Multiple speakers spoke on this concept. This is, in fact, what the prophet, the Apostles, and the other general authorities have been preparing us for over the past few years! The introduction of the Come, Follow Me curriculum and the emphasis on home-centered church have been getting us ready for the current situation this whole time. JB and I are doing our best at present to make our home such a refuge for ourselves not only on Sundays but throughout the week.

In the Lord's due time, His work will roll forth. I believe that there is so much still to be done, temple work foremost among those tasks, that the He will make a way for His temples to reopen before long. President Nelson, in fact, announced eight new temples to be built across the globe, including another one (our third!) in Davis County in Syracuse, Utah; one in mainland China in Shanghai; and another in Dubai, United Arab Emirates---the Church's first temple in the Mideast!

No, general conference didn't magically heal my anxiety about our current situation. Depression and anxiety will still always be there for me to deal with to one degree or another until I am cured of them beyond this mortal existence. But conference did help me immensely nonetheless. It recharged my spiritual batteries and has given me sorely needed direction and hope as we move forward through the next few weeks.

In the meantime, I hope to cheerfully do all things in my power to endure whatever may come in the near future. I look forward to joining my fellow Saints in fasting and prayer this Friday, Good Friday, along with all others from different faiths or no faith who wish to join us, per President Nelson's invitation, as we implore the Lord for help and relief for those suffering physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and financially.

2020 Vision

For one of my first clichéd and/or peer-inspired posts of the year 2020, here's one about goals.

The end of a calendar year/start of a new one is a good time for assessment of where one has been and where one is going. It must be, I guess, because I've been seeing a lot of "decade-in-review" posts by family and friends on social media lately. (These are great, by the way.)

As for me: It was just a few, short years ago that my life was a bit of a country song, minus the obsession with beer and dirty boots. I was living in the basement at my brother's house. I had a job but was somewhat underemployed; probably not coincidentally, I was in some degree of debt. My car was on its last legs and would soon die forever. I was active in my LDS singles (social) group, and though I wasn't technically inactive in the ward where I attended church, I was going through a period of time when I was less involved in my discipleship than I had been at better times. I was also in my 30s and was frustrated and despondent after decades of dating, which seemed to have led to only futility.

In short, I wasn't happy with a lot of things. This brother of mine cared enough about me to sit down with me and ask me how I felt about these matters, and also what I wanted to do about changing them.

With his help, I set some goals: Get a full-time job. Simultaneously, save money/get out of debt/get a better car. Move out into an apartment or home. Recommit to attending all of my Sunday meetings, and actually serve in my ward calling instead of just being there. Be worthy of a temple recommend, and use it. Oh yeah---get married. (I used to lose sleep over this last one, because it's just about the hardest one of all; you can't reach this goal on your own!)

It wasn't enough to set these goals (some of which took months to complete, while others took years); I also set weekly and daily goals (spending a certain amount of time daily and weekly job searching and interviewing, for example) to make them happen. My brother then followed up with me as those days and weeks went by.

Not too long ago, I spent some one-on-one time with this brother, who brought up the goals and reminded me that I had achieved every one of them.

I have been working full-time for a number of years now. I have been out of debt for over four years, and I bought a new (used) car. I rarely use a credit card and try to pay cash/use debit for things when and wherever possible (I highly recommend this). By recommitting myself to fully participate in my church meetings, I met my wife in the new singles ward I joined, and we were sealed in the temple. We are both active in our current ward and love serving and being served by the good people in it. We share a wonderful home together, which we are currently in the process of remodeling and furnishing.

Perhaps I have a friend or friends reading this who are wondering something like, Well, that's all well and good for you, but I'm never going to find (job) or (wife/husband) or (fill in the blank). I'm tired of giving and giving and failing every time, and I don't want to give any more. To that I say, I understand, because I've been where you've been. I was that way for a long time. To a large degree, I now understand that it was negative thought patterns of depression that caused me to feel and think that way.

It was a very wise man who taught that "the Lord God gave unto man that he should act for himself ... and not to be acted upon" (2 Nephi 2:16, 26).

Ultimately, we have to decide to take charge of the things we can control and act for ourselves. That requires a lot of effort, obstacles, failure, trying again, failure, more obstacles, trying again, rinse, and repeat.

When it comes to those d- and m-words (dating and marriage)---those can be some of the toughest and cruelest battles of all. Once again, they require another person's own free will, someone who will choose to want to be you. You can't make people like you (confound that precious free agency!), but you can cultivate your character and do other things to make yourself more likable. Your chances of attracting someone with the same goals also rise significantly if you put yourself in places (cough singles wards cough) to meet such a person. Though you can't control when you'll marry, you can control whether you are worthy to marry in the temple.

Conversely, if you don't put yourself in those kinds of places or stop trying altogether, your chances of being successful in dating plummet significantly. A number of friends my age, I fear, have reached this point or have already been there for years, and my heart breaks for you. If my humble story is worth anything to those friends, I plead with you to do yourself a favor and try again. It is the only way to succeed, even though there are indeed careless people who may yet still toss your heart into a crock pot and slow roast it ... like careless people do.

It's been said that hindsight is 20/20, and to a large extent, I can look back and see now how I was being blessed amid the frustration and the setbacks. I look at those past few years, and they've gone by somewhat quickly in a way. The Lord has promised, "I will order all things for your good, as fast as ye are able to receive them" (D&C 111:11). If I hadn't been ready to move quickly when some of those opportunities came up, I might have missed one or more!

You Don't Have to; You Get To

"It doesn't really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist's chair or let your hands lie in your lap. The drill drills on."
 -C.S. Lewis

Looking back, I don't remember too many of the things I learned specifically in the sixth grade. I remember learning pre-algebra, and I also remember we often had dances with the other classes in our grade. I also became a pretty good Jacks player during recess, because that is the kind of thug life I lived at age 11.

Anyhow, I also remember that we loved our teacher, Mr. Handley. He made learning fun, and he also had a way with words.

Whenever one of my classmates or I didn't want to do something he had the class do, that student would invariably ask, "Do we have to?" His response was always the same: "You don't have to; you get to."

It's taken me decades since then to fully grasp the wisdom in that concept. Much of adulthood (and of life itself) has turned out to be about things I get to do---things that come with the territory of being human. And sometimes, it seems, we get to pass through some truly awful things.

At age 11, back when I naively thought I was invincible, I couldn't have imagined some of the difficult things I would have to go through later in life. Depression, OCD, and more than one form of chronic pain have been tough teachers and unwelcome companions. At times, they have shaken me to my very core.

When I say this, I don't pretend that my difficulties have been more difficult than anyone else's; but they have been challenging for me. A recent visit to bless and pass the sacrament at the care center branch in my stake also reminded me that there are plenty of people in my own neighborhood who live daily with much worse, some of whom may even long for death when it doesn't come. I also write this in the shadow of the death of one of my sibling's fathers-in-law, who endured to the end despite a number of physical challenges he apparently battled the majority of his life.

Though life is undeniably pain, it's fortunately not only pain, too. It is also comprised of a great deal of joy if we will look around for it, even during the bleakest times. In fact, we couldn't know joy were it not for the pain. So much of what I get to do on a daily basis depends on my attitude about things. And through it all, I'm blessed and fortunate to have someone by my side now who sees me for who I am, sees the warts-and-all side of me, and loves me and inspires me regardless.

The trick, at least for me, is found in Chapter 29 of Alma. In it, Alma says:

"I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me. I ought not to harrow up in my desires the firm decree of a just God, for I know that he granteth unto men according to their desire, whether it be unto death or unto life; yea, I know that he allotteth unto men, yea, decreeth unto them decrees which are unalterable, according to their wills, whether they be unto salvation or unto destruction. Yea, and I know that good and evil have come before all men; he that knoweth not good from evil is blameless; but he that knoweth good and evil, to him it is given according to his desires, whether he desireth good or evil, life or death, joy or remorse of conscience" (Alma 29:3-5).

Ultimately, Alma touches on the most important thing of all: All have seen "good and evil," and all ultimately get to choose what to do about it.

SAD but Not Hopeless

With Daylight Saving Time ending this morning at 2:00 a.m., the sun set a whole lot earlier tonight. And it will continue to set earlier and earlier until the winter solstice in late December, just like it does every year.

With the shortening of days, not coincidentally there is also a higher occurrence of SAD (seasonal affective disorder) in people. As the length of days dwindles and we move closer into the winter, those who suffer from this illness can feel depressed most of the day, lose interest in activities, have low energy or problems sleeping, feel sluggish or agitated, have difficulty concentrating, or feel just hopeless, worthless, or guilty. Some even have frequent thoughts of death or suicide.

I know this because I just googled the term seasonal affective disorder and then found stuff on the Internet. Also, because I have suffered with SAD in years past, as well as with depression throughout the calendar year. I know how very difficult it can be. I've endured all of those symptoms.

There was even a time in my life in which I was so low that depression, coupled with a difficult physical challenge, consumed me to the point I thought there was no way I would recover from either. I remember once uttering the words out loud to a loved one: "I am not going to get better from this. This is going to kill me."

Yet here I am. I'm alive and kicking. Time and experience have helped me learn that horrible times pass, that you can and do get better, that therapies combined with positive daily thought patterns lead to healing.

And while I type this, I also realize at the same time that there are others who have had these same feelings and are no longer with us because they took their own lives.

This is why depression is such a dangerous illness: It makes you believe that this is a rational option, often that it is the one and only way out of your pain and anguish.

I've been to two funerals of friends who committed suicide. I've mourned and wept with their families. I miss them.

It's at times like these that I am reminded I need to talk, or at least blog, about this topic more. Because if I haven't learned empathy for others through my own experiences with depression, then the lessons I've learned have been wasted on me. Because it is so raw and real, my hopes in opening up about it are that it helps somebody, somehow.

Last year, when I was still on the Island of Misfit Toys, I gave a talk in sacrament meeting in which I talked briefly about my experiences with depression. Fast forward to just a few months ago, when JB and I went back to visit the ward on the night our old bishopric bid farewell after being released. I stopped to chat with an acquaintance from the ward who greeted me in the parking lot. He mentioned this talk of mine and told me how grateful he was that I had spoken about depression, because he was going through a really hard time at that time. He thanked me, and I was grateful for the feedback. I followed a prompting, and it made a difference to at least one person.

There is still such a stigma associated with depression. My hope is that by talking about it we can help diminish it.

Finally, and this is my last point for this post: I am among those who used to think, naively, that prophets and Apostles didn't deal with the kinds of problems and challenges we common folk have, and I've learned over the years that it just isn't true. They know far more about it than we think. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland spoke of this in a semi-recent general conference talk (one of the landmark addresses, I think, of the past decade) in which he addressed depression, reminding us that President George Albert Smith and a number of other prominent men and women have dealt with and are living with depression. Truly, God's rain falls "on the just and on the unjust" alike (Matthew 5:45).

While reading through the Old Testament this past week, I came across this passage in my study of the prophet Elijah:

"He himself went a day's journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a juniper tree: and he requested for himself that he might die; and said, It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life; for I am not better than my fathers" (1 Kings 19:4).

It sounds suspiciously to me like Elijah was depressed, even suicidal. He had to deal with one of the worst and most wicked kings of Israel, Ahab, and his infamous wife, Jezebel, and after much fighting and struggling with a populace that largely didn't believe in the things he tried to teach them, he came to the point at which he just wanted to die.

Fortunately, there is more to this story:

"And as he lay and slept under a juniper tree, behold, then an angel touched him, and said unto him, Arise and eat. And he looked, and behold, there was a cake baken on the coals, and a cruse of water at his head. And he did eat and drink, and laid him down again. And the angel of the Lord came again the second time, and touched him, and said, Arise and eat; because the journey is too great for thee" (1 Kings 19:5-7; emphasis added).

"The journey is too great for thee" is certainly a perfect way of describing just how hard it can get for those shouldering very heavy burdens, including the depressed.

I love this passage. We learn that, thousands of years before the TV show "Touched by an Angel," Elijah was literally touched by one, and it apparently saved his life (until he was later carried to heaven in a chariot of fire!).

Whose angel will you be? Whose life will you touch (even save?) with a small act of kindness? If you ever need one, family and friends, I am here for you, at any hour of the day, whatever your demons may be—be they depression or whatever else. If you're thinking you don't matter, you do. If you're contemplating leaving, please, please stay. You are loved, and you matter.

You matter so much that someone whose love surpasses us all suffered and died for you on the cross of Calvary. "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" (John 3:16).

The Dementors of Tryptophan

Following the conclusion of Thanksgiving dinner, the last football game of the day, and my tryptophan-induced nap, I settled down to get a little reading done Thursday night. I'm currently making my way through the Harry Potter series for the first time ever.

(Insert here reaction of horror and/or dismay and chants of "Unclean! Unclean!")

The initial waves of Harry Potter mania passed me by for one reason or another, possibly because I was technically already an adult when the books began to take the world by storm. I did, however, often attend midnight premieres (this is a thing we did Back in My Day, kids) of the movies with my siblings and their friends, and I always enjoyed them even though I did not necessarily understand the cause behind all of the jubilation. Likewise, I had a enjoyable experience seeing the spin-off film Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them last week.

Once upon a time, I also researched and wrote (and published) a brief biography on J.K. Rowling for a work project. I remain rather impressed with what she has been able to accomplish as an author and as a philanthropist, overcoming some rather difficult circumstances to get where she is.

Anyway, I'm a filthy Muggle, but I've been trying to atone for that. Currently, I'm onto the third entry in the series, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. The books have not quite yet reached Lord of the Rings or Star Wars levels of symbolism for me yet; nevertheless, I did find myself empathizing with the characters when they first meet the dementors of Azkaban on the Hogwarts Express. These are the characters who, in their initial encounter with our heroes, bring only despair and misery.

Here are a few passages that describe their encounter:

"The thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings."

"The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart. . . . He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. He was being dragged downward."

"'It was horrible,' said Neville. . . . 'Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?'"

"'I felt weird,' said Ron, shifting his shoulder uncomfortably. 'Like I'd never be cheerful again.'"

"He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of the flu; he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?"

One thing I learned about J.K. Rowling in my research was that she had lived through periods of major depression, and that she created the dementors as a representation of what the illness feels like. Having been through more than one episode myself, I concur wholeheartedly that the dementors very accurately represent what depression is like.

I've heard more than one person (including one in a sacrament meeting talk Sunday) remark that 2016 has been a really tough year. That's certainly been the case for me. I've learned or re-learned the lesson that problems and trials don't really ever go away completely; they just come at you in different forms. One month it's dementors, and the next it's three-headed dogs or Mandrakes or what-have-you. And I've also been reminded through an extremely difficult period of time that my own personal battle with my own dementors is not over, and it's not something that's "cured" like other illnesses; it's a fight I'll have to continue every day for the rest of my life in one way or another.

Even so, as I took in this message on Thanksgiving Day, having also had my parents (one of whom was not home for the holidays last year), my siblings, my nieces and nephews, and even two of my three favorite puppies around me for a good portion of the day, I couldn't help but realize how immensely blessed I have been this year, too. They are my favorite people in the world. In fact, my cup runneth over in many, many ways.

There are parts of my life that remain incomplete, but though the dementors would have me focus on those, I am trying to choose instead to focus on what I do have, and to control the things I can control. If my own experiences with the dementors haven't helped me to be more understanding, more patient, more kind, and more grateful, then those lessons have been wasted; but I'm trying to make sure they are never lost.

Another message given in the book, once the attack has been thwarted, is that eating chocolate helps you to feel better. Which is also 100 percent correct.

The Opposite of Love

"Why does everyone want to go away? I love being home. But I don't like being left behind."
 -Beth, in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women

A few years ago, I attended a Sunday School class in which the teacher expressed the belief that the opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference.

I have thought about that lesson a number of times since, and I think there is a great deal of truth to it. With hate, which we normally would think to be the emotion directly opposite of love, there is at least some feeling there for you, even if it is a negatively influenced one. With indifference, there is no real acknowledgement of any feeling at all. It is apathy; it is ignorance.

I didn't realize until recently, though, that the teacher was quoting Elie Wiesel, Holocaust survivor and 1986 Nobel Peace Prize winner, who just passed away last month:

"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference."

Indifference, then, causes a whole host of problems. Lack of caring about or acknowledging a problem, let alone doing something about it, leads to disastrous consequences. Fortunately, we do not deal with issues today that are anywhere nearly as serious as the horrors Wiesel faced during World War II, and I'm not attempting to address anything anywhere near that deep tonight.

This is not to say, however, that indifference hasn't crept into our society in less-subtle ways. Indifference is still alive and well under our very eyes. I see it all around, and it often appears in the form of cliques.

Cliques are great for those who belong to them, and that's fine and dandy. But what inherently happens with them is not that people are included but that other people, by definition, are left out or are forgotten.

This issue means a great deal to me because I have often found myself on the outside at one point or another during nearly every age and stage in life. I've seen cliques in my neighborhood, at school, at church, in the workplace, in my extracurricular activities, and even as a missionary. I have also been bullied on multiple occasions, which may be the ultimate rejection or feeling of being left out of a group. Many people never actually grow out of cliques, for I see them all over the place today. For all I know, there will always be cliques; there may be cliques at PTA meetings or in the retirement home.

As a result of my experiences, I suppose life has fine-tuned me to feel and see the needs of those left behind, and though I have not always been able to include everyone in everything, I have made an honest effort, albeit not a perfect one, to include as many as I could. My life has, likewise, been greatly blessed by those wonderful individuals who have reached out the hand of fellowship to me and have lifted my hands and my spirit when they have hung low, whether due to chemical or other reasons.

How rare is the true friend who sticks around; whose interest in you is motivated by true concern, patience, and shared mutual interests; and who is there by not assignment nor motivated by convenience. There's a handful of you who fit this bill, and you are appreciated greatly.

If you currently find yourself in a clique, I invite you to consider someone who might not be there at your next gathering but whom you could invite to join you. Or look for someone different to sit by next time. I assure you that you won't have to look too far to find them, because they are all around, and they are longing for friends. If you're not currently part of a clique, I invite you to come and sit by me, and we'll make fun of the cliques together.

Seriously, though, and not to make this sound too much like a Sunday School lesson of my own, but I feel like this idea fits the theme of the Island of Misfit Toys, which is: "Each one bring one." As one of the counselors in the bishopric taught on this topic: "You all know who sits 'alone' even though they're surrounded by a lot of people."

Solitude

Toward the end of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, the burden of carrying the ring has already taken its toll on poor Frodo. Boromir approaches him and says:

"I know why you seek solitude. You suffer; I see it day by day. You sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo, other paths that we might take."

I know of a surety that the Dementors in the Harry Potter universe, for example, represent J.K. Rowling's own battle with depression during her life. I think this is quite an accurate representation. I don't, however, know all of the symbolism involved in the One Ring and its ill effects on Frodo's body and soul in the LOTR trilogy, though many comparisons that can be made to depression, as well as to chronic pain and other challenges.

One of the end results for many who battle depression, indeed, is to seek solitude. It has happened rather subtly over the years, but I see it in my own life when I don't even realize I'm seeking out solitude. Or, in other words, to just be left alone.

Some nights, I'm just not up for the social scene. I can't do it. Perhaps that's why I'm here alone on a Monday night pouring these thoughts onto a blog that maybe a few dozen will read, and that part doesn't really matter; I mainly write for myself so my brain doesn't explode under the weight of the ring I carry myself.

The irony, to me, is that much of the time, and in the big picture, I don't like to be alone nor do I want to ultimately be alone, either. I'm reminded of this weekly with my friends and colleagues on the Island of Misfit Toys, most of who crave companionship and are doing everything they can think of to remedy the situation, often ending in disappointment. (I say "most"; but that is a topic for another day and post.)

The Lord alone knows how very many, many times I have prayed, wished, sacrificed, gone out of my comfort zone to meet new people, and have tried time and again to improve my own situation. Sometimes, I feel when a relationship ends that all I'm left with is the option of disappointing someone new, and that's as good as things may ever get. That I just can't wait to get hurt again. But I am where I am nevertheless, though not through a lack of trying.

Fortunately, Boromir was right about one thing: There are other paths you can take, even though it requires a great deal of patience. And the righteous desires of our heart do matter, in spite of our imperfections and not seeing the results we want when we want to see them.

"For I, the Lord, will judge all men according to their works, according to the desire of their hearts" (D&C 137:8-9).

Where am I going with this? I don't rightly know. It's still a long walk to Mordor.

Nose Jobs, the Universe, and Everything

Three months ago today, I went under the knife for a nose job.

No, really. It's true. My particular procedure is called a septoplasty, aka the fixing of a deviated septum. This is when your nasal passages are crooked, not letting air pass through the right way. It was a problem I'd known about for years, and it had finally reached a point, with constant sinus pressure and pain, that multiple ENTs (ear, nose, and throat doctors) recommended the surgery. In addition, I had a turbinate reduction, in which my turbinates were reduced (as far as I know) to improve my ability to breathe.

Which, it turns out, is a really important part of staying alive.

The surgery was a successful one. I left the hospital woozy, nauseated, and generally bewildered, doing things that I never, ever do, like taking selfies:

I was sent home with a roll of gauze like you see in the photo and had to change my gauze "mustache" every 45 minutes to an hour, because my nose kept bleeding throughout the day and kept saturating the gauze, giving me red mustaches.

Good times, huh?

To make a long story even longer, recuperation went about like I was told it would be. In some ways. I had a few sleepless nights. I ate only a little bit and only soft foods for a week, losing 14 pounds total that week. I missed about about six days of work. But after a couple of weeks of a stuffy nose, I started to realize that I was actually, truly breathing better and that the surgery had done me a lot of good.

In other ways, recuperation was nothing like I could have possibly imagined. My throat was sore for weeks due to the tube that had been inserted for surgery, as I was told might happen, except it continued for additional weeks, which became months. As one prone to depression and anxiety, those issues were affected to a great deal. My brother graciously answered the phone and drove me to the E.R. at 3 a.m. and stayed there with me till 5 a.m. on one troublesome night. Another brother drove me to a different ENT for an emergency visit to have my nose splints removed a day earlier than planned when I learned my surgeon was out of town and couldn't do it right then. In fact, multiple family members stepped up and either let me vent what I was going through or sat with me to give me moral support or priesthood blessings. My sleeping habits were interrupted for a number of weeks, and other issues, such as work, improv, social life, etc., were thrown topsy-turvy for a time. Until tonight, I have also not posted an actual blog post (other than photos of family goings-on and whatnot) for nearly three months for these same reasons.

Without boring you with any of the other sordid details, I had a tough time. A much tougher time than I expected. It really put me through the ringer in ways I never imagined. This is not to dissuade anyone out there contemplating going through a septoplasty procedure for yourself, because it has done a lot of good for my sinuses and my breathing, as I was told it would, and most people who undergo this surgery do not go through the same complications I have faced. I also don't pretend that my difficult few months are or were any more difficult than anyone else's challenges or trials over the same period of time, only that they were quite difficult for me.

Upon my fifth or sixth follow-up visit to my surgeon, he commented: "I've never seen any of my patients go through this before" (reassuring, huh?). He also said, "You've really been through it these few months, haven't you?" After these six (or seven?) visits, consulting with and getting a second opinion from another ENT, as well, the good news is that we finally (knock on wood!) seem to have nailed the problem, and I've been feeling much better lately.

I don't know if the feeling will continue, but I am optimistic it will. All told, I am figuring out this mortal life thing one day at a time, just like the rest of you. I read something the other day in which an LDS general authority (I forget which one) compared life to an ocean wave; that it has highs and lows, and the hard times (the "lows") eventually pass.

A life lesson I've been reminded of multiple times these past several weeks has been that everyone is going through something tough. Often, these challenges are unseen or unspoken. The tough times test us to the very core. They test us physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and in every other way, shape, and form. And yet, how very reassuring it is that the Savior descended below all and knows how we feel and can comfort and guide us through His Holy Spirit. If these lessons are not lost on us, we gain empathy and sympathy for those around us carrying heavy burdens and pick up some glimpse into what He feels for us as the Savior of all.

I've "ponderized" and have written down several impressions that have occurred to me over the last little while, and I hope to give this blogging thing another try and may just share a few of these ideas with you. I also plan to be a bit more open in the future on my struggles with both depression/anxiety/OCD (they're all interrelated in one big ball of goo), as well as chronic pain, in the hopes that it will both give me an outlet for these issues and also give hope to others who may be going through similar challenges. Stay tuned.

As Tom Hanks's character says in Cast Away, "Tomorrow, the sun will rise, and who knows what the tide will bring?"

I pray I may never take another sunrise for granted. Each and every one is a wonderful blessing, come rain or shine.

Only a Passing Thing, This Shadow

"Frodo: I don't suppose we'll ever see them again.
Sam: We may yet, Mr. Frodo. We may."
 -The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

I sure do love my Star Wars franchise. It's by far my favorite movie series. I've seen Episode VII, The Force Awakens, nine times now over the past two months since its release on December 18. Yes, I'm a special kind of nerd. In my eyes, it's a wonderful sequel and a cinematic triumph.

To those who know me, none of this is surprising news in the least.

Followed very closely behind my love for the Star Wars movies is that of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, adapted from the novels by J.R.R. Tolkien. The Hobbit prequel trilogy of 2012-2014 was good but not great. However, the LOTR movies are masterpieces, and they improve for me upon each subsequent viewing, extended edition or not.

My favorite character in the films, hands down, is Samwise Gamgee, played by Sean Astin also of Goonies and Rudy fame. Samwise the Brave is exactly the kind of best friend everyone wants, and his qualities are manifest in many of those I'm lucky to have in my life.

I'm not ashamed to admit that his speech to Frodo at the end of The Two Towers tugs at my heartstrings every time. Over the past week, I've thought more than once upon his words:


"Frodo: I can't do this, Sam.
Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something."
Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?
Sam: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo . . . and it's worth fighting for."

This is deep on so many levels, and I honestly don't remember how much of it was written by Tolkien in the books and how much was penned by the screenwriters. As someone who suffers from depression and anxiety, I find lessons in these words that I need to be reminded of when times get dark and things may look hopeless, as they often did to Frodo with the burden he carried.

When I, like Frodo, feel like "I can't do this," I need Sam's voice in my head reminding me that this challenge is "only a passing thing, this shadow." That whether or not I want the difficulty I face, I face it nonetheless ("we shouldn't even be here, but we are"), and I do not do so alone. That the sun "will shine out the clearer" on a better day. That "even darkness must pass."

Whoever wrote the words, they are beautifully put. Thank heavens for the brave Sams who help me along my journey.