On leaving

I spent over a year questioning, doubting, and proverbially crunching the numbers of a religion that just didn't seem to add up. I wrestled; I worked; I tried to stretch my beliefs so wide that Mormonism could still plausibly fit inside--until it didn't. Around this time I had lunch with an old friend. It was one of the first safe spaces I felt I could be completely honest about what I believed. After reciting my laundry list of the ways my heart and mind deviated from the orthodoxy I had grown up with, my friend said, "I honestly don't know how you are going to stay in the church."

This terrified me.

But it also made me confront a the very real possibility that I was going to have to find a way to make my life work without Mormonism.

If I had a phrase to encompass this time in my life it would be this: "Learn to let go of that which does not serve you."

I suppose someone could read that and think it very selfish. Quite the contrary. By cutting out the parts of my life that were not helping me grow, I was able to make room for things that did. I created more room for joy and discovery. And ultimately I can contribute in a much more authentic way. Being at war with myself only made me shrink and withdraw. While desperately clutching to Mormonism and trying to foster new beliefs, I became less connected to both. So I let go of that which was not serving me.

The biggest thing I feel is relief--relief of letting go of the burden of living a life that pleases other people. Did my life suddenly turn to sunshine and rainbows? Nope. I still am struggling through the human experience just like everyone else. But I feel hopeful and a restored sense of wonder and curiosity.

I was led to think that doubt was this terribly, unconstructive state of mind. And I would say, by its nature, yes, it is corrosive. But have you ever stripped paint or varnish? Something that breaks things down by nature actually in the end, can lead you to an original state, a new start. It reveals the "unvarnished truth."

"Learn to let go of that which does not serve you." In this act, you will have the energy to cultivate what does.

You've changed.

One time I was walking in Provo, and that was written on the sidewalk: "You've changed."  I'm still deciding what that means for me. I feel like I've changed a lot, and I feel like I've always been me.  Maybe I believe the general core of who we are stays the same, but the way that gets expressed changes.

I will dispense some of those changes now. 

Religiosity and spirituality have always been a large part of my identity. I've also always been very observant, empathetic, and intellectual. These all used to live in harmony; I used to display those qualities through the lens of my religion. Over the last year or so, that lens started to break down, and some of the parts of my identity were at odds with one another. Slowly I started observing patterns and policies in my church organization that were not so faith-promoting, and I felt my intellect was betraying me when the reasoning for my religious belief started to not add up. And I felt surges of empathy for people who were in pain because of a religion that I loved. 

Needless to say, it's been a tough year.

[Warning: Unavoidable mentioning of Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" in all it's banal glory.]

I really love "The Road Not Taken" in a very 8th grader-y way. But I remember a line later in the poem where he tells himself that he will leave the first path for another day (because totes obvs he was experiencing serious FOMO), but he says, "Yet knowing how way leads on to way/ I doubted if I should ever come back." 

And I totally get it. There are some things that you just can turn back on or unlearn or un-see or believe the way you used to.

This has all been very broad, so let's get into some specifics.

I find absolute truth claims and ultimate appeals to authority to be problematic. This means, while I love the LDS church, I don't believe it is the only way to God and that we don't have any special communication with Him that others don't. When I let go of those things, it made it a lot easier and harder to be Mormon.  Not everyone believes in Progressive or Big-Tent Mormonism, but I do. I believe there is room for everyone at the table. And a person can use Mormonism in whatever way will help them be their highest self. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. Some people condescendingly call this "picking and choosing," but I see it as living authentically. 

Live your truth and live your peace.  This is a very difficult thing to do.

Girl Power?

It's Women's Conference.  Ugggghhhhhhh.

For those of you who don't know what that is, I'll break it down.

Women's Conference is when a flood of females (the majority being middle-aged) flock to BYU campus and geek out for two days while listening to speakers, going to classes, bogging up traffic, and ignoring the red hand on the crosswalk signs.  They leave with a new found sense of pride in the fact that they have vaginas...or two X chromosomes...or maybe just a duplicate copy of a DAX1 gene..or some other way of identifying as cis-females.  That's all I really know.  I've never actually been to it, so admittedly I'm not an expert.

I had a moment of true embarrassment for my gender when I was walking through a sports building and there was a sign taped to the wall that said: "Women's Conference: This is a men's locker room.  This is NOT a bathroom" right next to the "Men's Locker Room" sign by the door.

Seriously?  They need a sign telling them an entrance is leading to a men's locker room literally next to the men's locker room sign.

How many times did this mix-up occur that it warranted this redundant sign?

I don't really want to know.

Rainy Days and Mondays

Sometimes I will start out a post by apologizing to cyberspace for my absence.  Then, I think, "mmm....better not."

I think apologizing is a lovely art--don't get me wrong.  The world would be a better place if we could learn how to genuinely say sorry to people we may have hurt.  I also think there's a point where apologizing goes too far.  I find myself throwing sorry around like my clothes after a long day.  Do I actually fold those clothes and put them away? No.  I throw them in the general vicinity of my laundry hamper with the intent of actually thinking about them later.  It would be better if I were more intentional with my language than that.  I think this attitude is where the "sorry not sorry"  phrase originated.  People realized, "hey, I'm not actually sorry," so I'm not going to lie that I am. However, the lack the confidence to own it, so they apologize for the lack of something they "should" feel.

Ah.  There's that word.  Should.  Can we retire this word please?  Should statements are the worst.  Just the worst.  Don't use them.

I had an experience the other day.  It wasn't the best of days.  I watched too much Netflix, ate too much candy, spent too much time inside, and my dedicated productive hours became royally unproductive (four hours of PCR down the drain...)

I can be a lazy person, but I loathe feeling lazy.  One direction I could go with this is to label myself as lazy and then hate myself and then become more lazy the next day and then hate myself.  (Does anyone else do this??)

The point is that this day I didn't.  I had a bad day.  And the next day I showed myself some self love and positive thinking, and moved on.  Sometimes I think we think of progress in a very Alcoholics Anonymous kind of way.  The way that counts each day of success (1 week sober, 2 months sober, etc.) and starts over at one failure.  (I'm not meaning to knock AA; I think it's a beautiful program that helps a lot of people.)  This may work for addiction recovery, but I don't think one day of failure undoes days or weeks or years of successes.  I don't subscribe to the notion of "starting back at square one."

Rather, I believe in collecting successes and holding on to them like bullets to destroy any feelings of self-doubt or dejection that come along with the failures that life deals out.

Love life. Love yourself.  Love others.  And with age and experience, I'm getting better at this.  That's the message.

Dear Blog, It's Me, Tanya

Once upon a time I used to write on this blog.  And I had tons of fans.  [Okay, it was just my mom, but it still felt pretty great.]

Then I felt I ran out of ideas.  So I stopped writing.

Then I lived more life and had more ideas and made the brave (read=narcissistic) decision to put them on the internets.  So here's to a bright and bloggy future!

My life in a nutshell the past couple of months:

--I've been learning how to become a master of developmental biology.  Science can be very slow and confusing sometimes, but I think it's what I still want to do.  My back-up plan is to be a professional hippie.  (But hippies don't have 401K plans, so...)
--I've become really concerned with what it means to be a woman and be perceived as a woman (vs. a girl).  I'm really into owning my adulthood.  Yet, I still need to pay my taxes.  Gross.
--I started ballroom dancing again!  Because I love it. And I just wanted to.  It's okay to not be the world's greatest at the hobby you enjoy.
--I found some great friends and have had some great conversations.
--And I've had some thoughts on occasion.

Well, there you have it!

To be continued...

A Sad Day in Potluck History

Tomorrow my department has a Christmas potluck.  'Tis the season, eh?

EXCEPT...

As I went to sign up to bring something, the secretary informed me that it had to be store-bought.  Homemade goods are a no-go this year because of food handling permits, yada, yada, yada.   She seemed equally distraught to tell me this news as I was to hear it.

Who wants store-bought treats at Christmas??  It's the one time a year where people actually have motivation to make stuff!  I like how they treat it as if people have no freedom in their eating choices.  If you are wary of homemade stuff, don't eat it!  Furthermore I find it frustrating that we are more scared of whatever "germs" people are going to pass by bringing something from home than we are concerned with the hydrogenated oils, red 40, random preservatives, artificial colors, sugar sugar and more sugar, other ingredients masquerading as sugar, etc.  This seems a little backwards to me considering the ratio of how many times people get sick from other people's food versus how many people eat their health away with food that comes in boxes and cans--instead of from dirt.

Here's my conspiracy theory:  I think they want us to eat the junk with all the preservatives so that we'll all get cancer, and then people will still have jobs researching cures for cancer.  Yeah, I think that's right.

I might just bring a home-made dessert anyway with a big sign that says:  Warning:  These wheat-free, sugar-free, vegan brownies were made at home.  This means I probably licked my finger while making the batter, but they are cooked at 350 degrees, so you're probably okay.  Eat at your own risk.  (But seriously, you'll be missing out if you don't.)

Perspective

You know how everyone did that gratitude countdown to Thanksgiving on facebook (which was kind of annoying because for a whole month everyone was blowing up my newsfeed with how great their family, husband, kids, friends, life is...(I get it okay??))?  I would have liked to see more offbeat gratitude declarations, but that's just me.

Aaaaannnnyyyway, I actually have one.  A good one.

I'm grateful that my blog is fixed!!!  I don't have to write in HTML anymore.  And you should be grateful too because it means more random stories, needless details, and unsolicited opinions coming your way!

First on the docket:  I was starting to feel a tiny bit sad about my life today, but then I went on MSN.com and read that one of the stars of Little People Big World has been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer.

Seriously, Universe?  Seriously?  Couldn't cut them a break?

Now I'm not using their situation to make myself feel better, but reading that gives you perspective, you know?  Like, maybe life isn't that bad.  There are worse things in life than freaking out about your future Master's thesis or fretting about the boy who just doesn't like you back...no matter how much mascara you put on in the morning.

So huzzah!  Happy December everybody!

So my blog is still broken. Wah!!!

Sometimes I feel like going on an adventure. Sometimes I feel like I've outgrown Provo. Sometimes I miss dance...a lot. Sometimes I wish I could speak Spanish again. Sometimes I'm still unsure exactly what I want to do with my life and where I want to end up. I found out the other day that one of the best schools in the field I want to go into is in Missouri. Bleh.

All I know right now is that I really love slam poetry, and I'm trying to find God everywhere, and I can eat A LOT of bananas. That's about it.

Twins

Once upon a time, Claire wanted me to write about a ward date(ish) activity. I will let you know that I have to write all my posts in HTML now because my blog is kind of broken. So, you're welcome.

There's a show called Amazing Race, and apparently it's about how people race amazingly. As is wont in Singles Wards in BYU, every activity needs to involve pairing of some sort. (Let's get these people married!!)

Cool thing #1--My "date" (ugh, I hate using that word because it was a forced situation. I don't want to put words or terms in anyone's mouth. Let's say partner in crime (PIC)) and I were wearing the SAME thing! Like almost literally. Same light blue linen(?) button down shirt, dark skinny pants, and tan shoes. We so stylish. This was a good omen, which was beneficial because I wanted to pretend like I didn't care about winning...but let's face it, I really wanted to smoke this thing.

Cool thing #2--My PIC had been living in Provo for the last ten years, so he knew Provo really well. This was a plus because we drove all around the freaking town.

Cool thing #3--There was great music in the car, so we pretty much jammed the whole time. This kept me from not getting too crazy-competitive, although I think my PIC caught some glimpses of my inner psycho. Nice to meet you too.

Cool thing #4--My PIC was really stellar at mini-golf precision and accuracy, and he ate all the pretzel bites (one of the challenges), so that I wouldn't get sick. Awwww...

Cool thing #5--Earlier that week I was at the vending machine about to blow all of my quarters on a $2 Clif Bar (woof), but I had this premonition that I would need to save those quarters, so I put in a little more effort to dig out my dimes and nickels, which might have been annoying to the person behind me. Well, come the competition, we needed quarters for this fortune teller booth. I busted them out without hesitation. Huzzah! This separated us from the couples who forgot to fill their lamps with oil...or you know, their wallets with quarters.

Cool thing #6--We got 2nd place (it would have been first if the other couple had parked correctly, but I'm not bitter) and a Coldstone gift card! And we both can't eat dairy! But you know, it wasn't about the ice cream.

Lame thing #1--One of the challenges involved a proposal...at the temple. Someone get me a serotonin (5-HT3) antagonist stat! (It's an anti-nausea drug group. Yay, pharmacology!)

Oh Provo.

A typical conversation:

Me: You know Dr. Bridgewater?
Fellow Grad Student: Yea.
Me: I think she's fabulous. I'm her biggest fan, and she doesn't even know who I am.
FGS: I know! Me too!
Me: Didn't she discover something really important?
FGS: Yeah, like nuclear Bmp2. It was published in Cell or Nature or something like that.
Me: OMG!!!!!

But seriously. Dr. Bridgewater has it all--brains, beauty, career, family, etc. She's my Woman Crush Wednesday candidate.

Hiatus Ceased

So my mom has been asking me all summer to post on this, and I was just too lazy until my friend Kellianne also suggested that I write again. Well, I guess that was the kicker. It turns out I only need two people to convince me to do something. It's like my mom is an enzyme, and Kellianne is the cofactor.

Hi, I'm Tanya, and I'm going to make as many scientific comparisons as I can in this blog because that's my life lately.

A glorious thing happened today. Let me preface this by saying that I love BYU.

Sometimes I don't agree with its policies--namely the leggings under a shorter skirt rule. (Wah, wah, wah, I know.) Not a huge deal, but I always saw it as an effort someone was making to be more covered and/or modest. I feel like BYU saw it as people trying to push the line. With that logic then, these subversive tactics needed to be be stopped by wasting paper--I mean, putting up posters--all over campus informing people that leggings don't make up the difference between your skirt length and your evil knees.

So we complied. Because, you know, you have to take tests.

But then. Skinny jeans rose in popularity and morphed into different colored, spandex-cotton-y like pants that still retained some form of jean-liness, but denied the thickness thereof. And heavens to Betsy, how do we classify (or vilify) jeggings???

And then I think the fashion industry thought, "whatthehell, let's not beat around the bush." And then simple leggings as pants hit the shelves. And I think BYU threw in the towel.

Which brings me to today. I waltzed in the testing center with just leggings (and a shirt of course). For the win.

Comparisons

Audrey Hepburn > Marilyn Monroe

Smashing Pumpkins > Nirvana

Simon and Garfunkel > The Beatles

I guess it's not always about comparisons...

Mom logic

So my mom got a job offer to be a Spanish teacher at Bonney Lake High School.

There's only one thing.  She's not an actual certified teacher.  The powers that be didn't know that when they called.  She just subs a lot, and she's pretty dang good at it.

"Well..." They said, "Do you plan on getting a teaching certificate anytime?"
Mom: "Nope!"

Afterward we were discussing this, and she said, "Why would I want to go through all that work?  Just to make more money?  And be in the next tax bracket?  No, thank you."

Moral of the story:  Don't make more money.  You'll just end up in the next tax bracket.  Ugh.

Buena suerte

Yesterday I went to a middle school yearbook signing party.  I was the entertainment.  Everybody loves balloon twisters!

This sweet kid came up to me.  We'll call him Manny.  This isn't just because he is Latino; he also reminded me of Manny from "Modern Family."  Super adorable.

He walks up to me and says, "Can you make me a heart wand?"
Me: "I sure can!"
As I get started, he says nervously, "This isn't for me, by the way."
Me: "Oh really?  Who's it for?"
Manny: "Well...it's this girl that I like."
Me:  "Why do you like her?"
Manny: "Well, we've been friends this whole year, and I just haven't told her, but I'm going to tell her today."
I finish the heart wand.
Manny: "Ummm can you write 'I like you' on it?"
Me: "I sure can!"  So I do.  "Go get 'em."

Then Manny courageously walked away.  I hope it works out for him.  Really.  I remember those days on the last day of school where you feel like you need to divulge your soul to the person you've been crushing on all year.  I never had the guts to do that until college, and by then that social-awkwardness-mixed-with-brazen-determination loses its charm.  Or maybe I'm just a pessimist.  Maybe we can all learn a thing or two from Manny.

All I know is that if a boy gave me a heart balloon that said "I like you" on it, I sure as heaven would swoon. But maybe I just have this thing with balloons...  That's what happens when you work for a clown.

Just another family dinner

Scott has fruit snacks on his plate as his serving of fruit.

Dad's on a diet.  He eats lettuce.

After being asked a million times over the past couple of years if I'm going to eat the fish tonight, I finally say yes today.  (So sue me.)  I've never seen my dad so proud.

We try to figure out what the new equivalent of green jello is in our day.

And it always ends with someone talking about the word "bazaar," and my mom tells the story of how she lost the Montana state spelling bee because of that word.

Cheers.

Endearing?

My mom and dad bought a new mattress.  It has a supposed 30-year warranty.  In my insensitivity and morbid humor, I said to my mom, "You'll die before this mattress does!"

Cue: Siblings' horror at such an observation.

Mom: But I'm only 52!
Tanya: Yeah, Grandma died at 80.

My mom starts to seriously consider this because sometimes she doesn't get my anti-jokes, but the siblings quickly assuage the situation and change the subject.

Then my mom chimes in.  "Yeah, but I think Christ will come again before I die...and I just feel so bad that you kids won't get any of our inheritance."

Aww, thanks Mom!  Wait...

Why, hello!

Dear Blogging World,

I'm back!  I know it is mostly just my sister and mom waiting around for this, so here you go.

I finished my time as a missionary.  Sorry for the drop off in posts.  I'm sure there will be plenty of flashbacks to share in the future.

So I've been in the real world for a week.  Sometimes I cry about it, but there are generally some good things it has to offer.

Blah blah blah.

I gained a new respect for the sadists we refer to as dentists.  I loathe the dentist.  I went to a place called Bright Now! Dental.  They always sounds so peppy and cheerful, but really they are about to make your day go from a 10 to a 5.  I needed to get a root canal (or as one of the 'merican employees said, "a 'rut' canal.  People in Alberta always used ask me if I said "ruf" instead of roof or rut instead of root.  Who even says that?  "Americans, that's who." The Canucks would say.  Well, I guess they were right.)  Apparently you need a root canal when there is an infection in the root of your tooth...or something like that.  Now, I always thought dentists were the smart kids who wanted a good job, but they chose the cushier route of the dentist office instead of the unpredictable and strenuous hospital hours of a medical doctor.   I don't blame them. Plus they don't have to deal with a lot of bodily fluids besides saliva and a bit of blood.   But as the dentist drilled into my infected root, all of the sudden the most horrific smell was released into the wild.

Bacteria really did a number on that little part of my mouth.  It literally smelled like something died in there (which something did--my tooth).  All the while, the dentist is all up in my grill (literally), nose-nose with the stench from the Black Lagoon.  I would sense it starting to waft, and then the dentist would apply something that smelled like bleach.  Then some more drilling.  Then the smell.  Then the bleach.  (Is that even safe?? I think I swallowed a couple times!)

Quite ashamed, I apologized afterward.  He said, "Oh, we get that all the time!"  Well, thumb up for the dentist who has to feel like he's in a morgue sometimes.  (The morgue actually smells better.)

At the end the dental assistant came in to match my tooth color with the porcelain crown they will make.  My teeth matched the whitest crowns they have.  All natural, thank you.  And then my ego re-inflated as I bounced out the door.  

Merry Christmas!

"Merry Christmas everyone!  And Happy Boxing Day!  I'm probably going to be one of those obnoxious people when I get back who compares everything Americans do to what people in her mission country do; I will forever be contrasting Canada and the States.  Sorry.  (Pronounced as it looks: sORry, not sARry.)

This was my second Christmas in Canada.  I started out in Edmonton, went up to St. Albert, traveled to Spruce Grove, and ended back in Edmonton with some familiar faces.  No accidents on the icy roads either.  

To be honest it didn't feel like Christmas, and it did at the same time.  I wasn't with my own family; that was a big hindrance.  I could open my presents with my matchy-matchy sweater, belt, scarf, tights combo which is so my mom it's-not-even-funny, but I wasn't actually opening it at my house with our real tree in the living room.  (At least, that better have been a real Christmas tree!)  But I did feel privileged to be a spectator for everyone else's Christmas and to see their traditions and the love they had for their families.     

It did feel like Christmas because in a small way I seemed to get it a little more this year.  Christmas is about Jesus Christ.  "Yeah, yeah, yeah..." I can hear you all chime it now.  But really, Christmas is about Jesus Christ.  And it's about God, our Heavenly Father who knew how to give the perfect gift long ago.  It's about Jesus Christ who chose to give his will to the Father and offer Himself a ransom for our infinite mistakes and heartaches and shortcomings and weaknesses and pains and trials.  It's because of this gift thatevery good thing comes through Christ.  If we learn to give as Christ gives, we will experience the joy and peace beyond our imagination.  I know that's true.

Merry Christmas everyone and Happy New Year.  Make a change that counts this year.  "

Hello to all those who still check this every once in awhile!  It's Thanksgiving in America this week!  I feel like it's redundant to say Happy Thanksgiving because giving thanks always produces happiness.  Always.  If you are in a bad mood, and you ask: "What am I grateful for?"  It's an instant Prozac.  I firmly believe in having a grateful heart.  Life is a test.  There's no way around it.  There will be hard times and sorrows even when we are making all the right choices.  This isn't because God forgets us or picks on us; it's because he wants us to be strong and to grow and to progress.  Living with gratitude helps us see things as they really are, that life is good, and that God is kind--overwhelmingly kind.  If I were to pick one thing that I am grateful for this season, it would be that: A magnificently kind and generous God. "God our Father has offered us everything he has and asks only that we give him all we have to give. That is an exchange so imbalanced in our favor that no effort would be too much and no hours too long in service to him, to the Savior, and to our Father's children."  

Think about it.  :)

(To the famous Bon Jovi tune) "Whooooooaa I'm half-way the-re....WhooOOOAA livin' on a pra-yer!!" That's right. Guess who has less time in the mission than time she's been out? Me! I know when elders (guy missionaries) reach their half-way they celebrate and burn things, but I feel like sisters (girl missionaries) just freak out with introspective questions like, "Who am I? Am I the person I want to be yet?? Why not??? Have I done all that I could???? Am I perfect yet?????" And then on the brink of implosion with the mounting pressure of questions, all you can do is eat some blended frozen *banana "ice cream" because you're on a meat-dairy-egg-soy-corn-flour-sugar-free diet because you share food with your allergic companion, and it's the closest thing to junk food that you have. Is anyone else feeling the anxiety??!!??

To be honest, I have had a couple of those rocky, soul-searching moments. Then I am reminded that I am (and YOU are) a person in process. (pronounced PRO-cess--like the Canadians say :) ) Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin, an apostle of Jesus Christ, summed it up perfectly when he said:

"Oh, it is wonderful to know that our Heavenly Father loves us—even with all our flaws! His love is such that even should we give up on ourselves, He never will.We see ourselves in terms of yesterday and today. Our Heavenly Father sees us in terms of forever. Although we might settle for less, Heavenly Father won’t, for He sees us as the glorious beings we are capable of becoming.The gospel of Jesus Christ is a gospel of transformation. It takes us as men and women of the earth and refines us into men and women for the eternities."

I believe in this.

Everything is still awesome in the city! I've been around to witness groups of people congregating for anime conventions (lots of people in furry costumes), Folk Fest (calling all hipsters!), Heritage Days (Jai Ho! and lots of good food!). Edmonton really is a diverse and beautiful city. You should visit sometime.

*Banana ice cream is just frozen bananas blended up to a soft-serve consistency. It's delicious!

Love you all!