Before we were born, after we die, and does God shave?

Several deep metaphysical questions keep coming up in my conversations with a few important people in my life, so it's time to write a little bit more about them. But first, a preface.

The World of Ideas

I like love this world! It is where I really like to be. I live in my head. It's the way things have always been for me. It drives both of my parents completely nuts because neither of them "get" that. I constantly (literally, constantly) make connections between various, surface level unrelated things. Symbolism everywhere. I love my dreams, and even better, interpreting them. For me, it's about feelings, symbols, abstract thinking, all of these kinds of things and more are the most fun, most interesting things in my life.

The physical world is the pits. Sure, it has its moments, but the best bits are when both these worlds combine in such a way that they seem totally in harmony. This is not the default state of being for me, nor for anyone, I imagine.

I think most people tend to live more in the real world than in the world of ideas. I think that seeing symbols everywhere gets on most normal people's nerves. I think that the reason I enjoy languages, writing, talking, and researching the lives of dead people is totally connected to this love of the world of ideas. I think it's the reason why mothering young children, and its super strong rooting in the physical world of laundry, school routines, laundry, diapering, screaming children, did I say laundry - why I struggle with it.

For me, heaven is a place where the world of ideas can be explored with others without words getting in the way. How? Perhaps telepathy? Instantaneous communication of billions of ideas faster than the speed of light? The closest thing to that in our current world is physical touch, I suppose - and that's obviously got a physical component! But even then... it's not quite the same.

I spend a lot of time in the world of ideas. Because of my extroverted nature (or whatever other dumb psychobabble label you want to paste on my soul) it is really important to not be alone there. I really like talking and sharing with people. I really, really like getting inside the heads of interesting people; the more difficult this is to do, the bigger the payoff (it's way more interesting! Don't know exactly why). I basically expect that the people I care about would want to do the same to me, to crack me. To figure out what I actually think. It's super painful to imagine that maybe they don't care or notice. Maybe they aren't interested. Logic never wins in this argument, either. I can't say to myself, "This person doesn't even know that I feel like they're being an insensitive jerk; they are just expecting you to keep talking without being prodded." That might help, but it doesn't fix the worry that perhaps they just don't care at all. I don't understand why this is the case. It is frustrating to me. I also wonder if maybe there are patterns in when I feel extra sensitive to disinterest - something I ate? A lack of sleep? Too many days in a row without a deep conversation? I don't know. I guess I seem like an open book to my friends, but some things I will never share, even with Danny because they're such unspeakably awful thoughts that never need to see the light of day. Some things only God knows about me. And some things I don't get a chance to talk about because people simply don't ask; I also don't want to be preachy. 

I've not had much difficulty feeling too preachy on this blog, though, so here are some of my deeper thoughts and ideas that have been simmering on my mental stove for the past months. 

Warning: it's rambly. 

Before we were born

I think there's something about me that is eternal. I don't really know what that is, at least entirely. I believe that my gender is part of "it". Like, I've always been female. Always will be. For some reason, that's really important. I don't know why. It feels right.

I do believe that I can grow and change, in other words, learn. Obviously we are all in a constant state of learning while mortal, so in the premortal existence why wouldn't it have been the same? Why won't it be the same later, too? 

It makes sense to me that there wasn't one set kind of premortal experience. I think it's possible that some, but highly unlikely that most, people had any kind of say in the circumstances of their birth on earth. I strongly believe that God arranged the universe in a way that each of us would be born with the greatest possible chance to return to him; perhaps for some, they had multiple "best possible" tests. I don't know. I'm glad I wasn't born to be a 19th century latter-day saint pioneer. That would have sucked.

In the paradigm of "life is a test", the goal is to return to him. It's a test we wanted. We voted for it in some kind of premortal council. To experience real agency and choose good over evil basically sums up the purpose of the test. I really don't think our agency is unbounded or without limits, but I think it is real, though. It's just that God has infinite foresight, so he would know exactly what we would choose. He designed the test in a way that the majority of his children, having experienced agency, would still someday be able to return to his presence.

This is really puzzling in light of the fact that most humans have never had the chance to encounter anything having to do with the gospel of Jesus Christ. Why would the apparent best test for most people be one in which they didn't even have the possibility of becoming a member of God's church on the earth and receiving "saving ordinances" like baptism? 

Even more puzzling, why was my life arranged in such a way that I was born into a family of members of the true church? 

Surely, that's evidence either that: 1. it's all just false (but that really doesn't feel right), 2. I have something really important to contribute in the church/to the world through being a member of the church, 3. I was really righteous before I was born so it was a reward?, or 4. I would have been totally, completely, utterly lost without having been born into the church.

I tend to vacillate between #2 and 4, and sometimes #3. Mostly, apparently this was not knowledge that was important for us to have. Maybe having it would have screwed up our test taking abilities.

Maybe some people got to preview their lives before coming, before crossing through the veil of forgetfulness between our world and the spirit world. I sometimes imagine this. I'm not sure if I actually believe it, but I do think about it fairly often. "Why the heck would I have chosen to live a life with anxiety?" "What was it about that horrible experience with that person that I needed to learn?" Mostly, I wonder about the test itself. I think I mostly believe that it's a complicated mix of specific circumstances and the tiny fleeting moments. For example, we could probably categorize our lives as scenes. In some specific scenes, it's obvious that there's a crossroads in front of us. Will I cheat on this test? Will I be kind to this person? Will I tell the truth even though it will be painful? These seem like obvious tests of our will, character, ability to choose good over evil, etc. But there are also small moments - like the microseconds between when you say something and you receive a response - where the test is all in your mind. Oh! I think this horrible thought. Now what? Will I dwell on it? Will I develop it further? What will become of it? These kinds of mind-choices take mere milliseconds.

If it's all a test, and God knows everything, including our thoughts, we - or rather, I - am in desperate need of a mediator! That is why it is easy for me to believe that Jesus Christ, and his atonement, is real. The "life as a test" metaphor would not work without it, or rather, we'd all be doomed to fail, which means God hates us.

But God loves us, and therefore, he sent his son. In fact, John says that exact thing. "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." 

I really believe this.

After we die

I love the temple. I do a lot of research for the real people to whom I owe my life so that I can take their names to the temple and do proxy ordinance work for them. I stand in place of them to be baptized, etc. This means that they will have the same, equal chance to accept the gospel, repent, and join his church. I don't really get "why baptism" is necessary - it's kind of weird. But hey, why not. It's a nice symbol of death and rebirth. It is something firmly rooted in the physical world. Apparently the World of Ideas was not enough - we needed this corporeal experience. It is the test.

When I die, I firmly believe that I will meet the people for whom I have spent many thousands of hours researching their lives and performing their temple work. I will see them again, and beyond the veil I will remember them. I will have known them from before I was born. I don't know how that's possible, since I don't really think we were organized in families (except that we were basically all brothers and sisters, children of our heavenly parents) in the premortal existence, and we certainly will have families in the postmortal one. Except, eternal families are more like a running chain than individual clusters, in my opinion. We'll all just be connected to everyone, like a giant family tree. And infinite potential to continue to have children, obviously minus the crappy experiences that come with being physically pregnant.

I sometimes imagine it will be a very long gauntlet of people. I will get to high-five the people whose temple work I did, and they will thank me for it, cheering for me. I think this is a bit simplistic, though. It's almost like...

It's like what I imagined what living in a host family in France would be like. I imagined that there would be this super loving French family who was really interested in listening to me and teaching me about the world. That they would want to hear me crappily bang out my tunes on the piano. That they would ask me all kinds of questions about myself, my thoughts, my feelings, my culture, etc. That...

hahaha!!

Well... that, was not the case. At all.

I think that maybe my gauntlet-like expectations of the postmortal reunion with my deceased ancestors will be similar, except from the other end. I think it will be far, far superior to anything I can really imagine.

And I can imagine really amazing things.

But some of what I imagine is quite personal, so that isn't something to write about now.

Does God shave?

"I just don't believe God is this man with a beard in the sky. Think about the Hubble telescope. It takes photos of space, and in one square inch there are hundreds - thousands - millions of stars! There's just no way that earth is all there is. There has to be more."

I don't believe God is a man with a beard in the sky, either. And I find photos of space to be mind-boggling, too. Awesome in a literal sense of the word. I also don't think that we're all that there is.

I've never found it very interesting to study astronomy or space in depth and that came as a direct result of taking astronomy 101 in college. I took it because I wanted to memorize the constellations. That was a tiny part of the class - the only part that was fun because it involved staring at the actual sky on a blanket with a bunch of friends at night. The rest of the class was about the dullest topics on earth, such as spectroscopy. Studying the way the light fragments so that you can discover what elements exist on far distant planets which you'll never see with your own eyes. Using complicated mathematical equations to describe very, very distant places and events - impossibly distant. I've never found it interesting to study geology or early man, either. I just don't get that lit up about rocks, and I can't relate to family tree arguments about neanderthals when we can't get past 1835 on one of my ancestral lines. Heck, I've never even found it that interesting to talk about the Slavs. Or the Celts. And these guys were my ancestors. But how do they connect to me? Maybe I'm selfish, or self absorbed. If I can't connect to it, meh.

It's easy for me to accept that we're not all that there is. It's easy for me to believe that there are other planets with life. It's easy to think that maybe aliens don't look like humans. I have no idea how it works. It's pretty weird that we haven't made contact with extraterrestrial life yet, but it's also easy to believe that God would want it to be that way. Maybe we humans on earth are not ready for it. There's hundreds of possible reasons why that might be the case - I don't ascribe any of them to "truth." I just kinda muse about them. Mostly, it's just one of those things that I don't know about, and can't wait to find out about - and I'm pretty sure I'll only find out about it when I'm dead. I firmly believe that after I die, at least some of that knowledge will be made known. Or perhaps it will be remembered. Maybe I knew it before. Someday, somehow, I'll get the chance to know everything. I think that's another "definition" of what heaven is - the capacity and opportunity to understand and know everything.

I believe in God. I believe that it's way more complicated than "a man with a beard in the sky." First off, I believe that it really depends on what you mean by "God." Are we talking about God the Father? Are we talking about our Heavenly Mother - who we never, ever talk about (and there are about a hundred thousand reasons I can imagine why we don't talk about her - not the time and place to go into that here I guess)? Are we talking about Jesus Christ? Are we talking about the Holy Ghost? Are we talking about ourselves in our perfected post-mortal resurrected bodies? 

Is the idea of "God" like the borg? Maybe? After we die, do we get sucked into this collective, united being? I think it's possible, but improbable. I think our identity is eternal, and I think its core doesn't change very much at any point in the process. There are some parts of me that always have been, and always will be. Maybe I fit into a giant puzzle? Maybe I am a strand of an intricately woven tapestry? Maybe - but I'm still individual, and I believe I always will be, even later. I don't really believe it's God-soup.

The stereotype of "God" is a man in a white robe with a beard. Some Christians (not latter-day saints) believe his winged. I think that this image is way too limiting. An all-powerful God could surely appear like whatever he wanted at any given moment. But that's a non-answer because appearances can be shifted by many, many intermediary means. Maybe when Joseph Smith saw God the Father and Jesus Christ in the first vision, what he saw was influenced by what he expected to see. Maybe they appeared to him in that way for a reason. Maybe they can appear completely differently - as something completely, wildly different-looking. I feel kind of irreverent postulating on that, so I won't. 

Instead, I'll answer the question, "Does Heavenly Father shave?" That question is meant to poke fun at the stereotype of God the Father. The kind that you see in comic strips, that nobody takes seriously. It's meant to make the idea of a real God sound ridiculous. Of course God could shave if he wanted to. Now we're getting into the philosophy of religion, and stupid questions like, "Can an all powerful God create a rock that's so heavy he can't lift it?" Eugh. 

A more fair question would be something more like, "Does Heavenly Father have a corporeal body?" The answer to that question is yes! But unlike so many of my peers, I refuse to accept that we definitely know what that means. Maybe his body can shift in ways that we can't comprehend. Maybe earth itself is a cell of his body. Maybe he exists in dark matter. I don't know! Apparently it wasn't important for us to know much about his physical body. It probably does not have blood, based on some deep doctrine rumors I've heard (but don't really know where that comes from). We are created "in his likeness and image" but that isn't a very satisfying answer - it could be stretched to encompass many, many possibilities. 

I believe God is real. When I see him again - when I see both of my heavenly parents again - I will know them. I will be able to hug them again someday. I am not worried about not being able to understand more than that because apparently, it's not important right now. It doesn't worry me, and that's weird because lots of things worry me!

Isaiah (my favorite prophet of all) put it really beautifully. "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." I was thinking about this idea in terms of the Hubble space telescope that had been mentioned in that earlier conversation. I imagined that what we can see and understand about the world and the universe, might be compared to our current scientific understanding and wisdom. We can peer into space with this super powerful telescope and start to imagine the scope of what the universe is, but we are nowhere close to understanding - really knowing - anything. We can see just about as far as our scientific instruments, all of which are securely tied to us, here on the ground of earth. God, on the other hand - his knowledge and understanding of everything - isn't bounded by the earth. His capacity to see and understand everything reaches out way, wayyyyy beyond those galaxies photographed by the Hubble space telescope. I think that's what Isaiah is saying by "higher than the earth." 

It is easy for me to accept the idea that a being/entity could have that kind of incomprehensible capacity and power because it feels true. I believe that God is real because it makes sense to my mind that I came from real parents. It makes sense to my heart that I am loved. It feels right that there's more than just this tiresome physical world occasionally colliding with the World of Ideas to create pockets of temporary happiness and joy. I believe that there's meaning in my existence, and potential for infinite, lasting joy. 

I'm never going to convince anybody else with these words, and as such, it feels like such a waste of time. These feel like simple truths that are easy to believe! They feel self-evident. I feel like a jerk explaining them to non-believing friends because it feels like I am trying to push an agenda or values on them - because, honestly, I suppose on some level, I am. I really feel a lot of joy in my belief in God, and I want others to share it. I also really abhor conflict, especially over deeply held personal values and beliefs. That is (one reason) why I did not serve a mission. It's why I tend to lean towards temple and family history work rather than missionary proselyting. 

But I am glad to be a passive "missionary" in conversation and writing from time to time, and with my example, always. And when I fail, I can repent. That's the promise, and it's really beautiful.

Dieting

I'm on a diet.

I don't like it.

Who does? I seriously cannot imagine a single human being enjoying depriving themselves of food.

I want to write about this topic a little bit. First of all, I am not a disgusting pig. I don't overeat or binge habitually. I am overweight right now. Here's why: when I am pregnant, I get a horribly ill sensation in my entire body - my head aches, my belly groans, I feel miserable, cramps, just the worst, really, I feel like I'm going to die - unless I eat something small, and then that takes the edge off of that feeling.

Second of all, I am not a tiny person. I wish that I were, but those are not the genes I was born with. There is a long history of obesity, diabetes, heart disease, and other fun stuff on all sides of my family. We are not skinny minis. It's just not part of the program.

Danny has totally different genes. The women in his family are tall and skinny. They didn't die for generation after generation from heart attacks and complications with diabetes. Danny doesn't have to exert any effort at being skinny; actually, the opposite is true. There's this family story that his mom likes to tell about how she had a box of candy bars for him to keep in his bedroom, in the hopes that he would get fatter. He would eat one every night, brush his teeth, go to bed, and stay exactly his 135 lb almost 6 foot self.

That is a foreign country to me.

It would never have happened like that in my house growing up. There were so many "food" issues that when I made a list of the ideal person who I wanted to marry, after funny, smart, faithful, and kind, I put "I can eat around this person comfortably." Meaning, I don't have to feel like he's watching and judging every bite that I take. Danny has always been easy for me to eat around. Around Danny, food is just - well, food. It's not all tied into emotions and deeper meaning. There's nobody in his family who struggles with eating disorders - I guess, if they struggle with anything, it's coming at their body image from the other side of things. I'd so take vanity over negative body image, any day of the week, personally. But then, negative body image essentially ruined my childhood, threw my sister into a loooooooooong cycle of self-destruction/treatment facilities for her eating disorder, and it is a constant worry that I have about my diabetic dad. I know the negative side of things really intimately. It's a nightmare.

I became my size and shape around middle school. Basically, a normal weight for my 5'6" self is 143 lbs. I say 143 without rounding down or up because that is literally what the scale said for many, many years, from around the age of 15 until the time I had my first baby. It's on the high end for "ideal weight." Most of my weight is in my hips and chest. I would never have chosen it to be there, either. My weight didn't vary.

Until I started having children.

Then it varied. A lot.

Our first three children were so close together that there was basically no possibility of me losing the weight again. I think I only gained like 30 pounds with Jane, but then I got pregnant when she was only 9 months old. 30 pounds in 9 months is not really very easy, even if 15 of those pounds were baby, placenta, and increased blood. Basically, I am really bad with details, but over 3 years I crept up to a post-third-child weight of about 180 pounds?

I got down to 150 before Cora, my fourth child. Then I had her, and gained like 50 pounds with her. My mother in law was horrified because I was over 200 pounds.

After Cora, I lost all the weight, getting back to my pre-first-pregnancy weight and size. Sort of. I tried on my wedding dress. It fit, but differently. My belly is never going to be as flat as it was before. But my arms and legs are smaller and stronger, too. So that's weird.

Our fifth baby took me right back up to 210 pounds, which was really awful, but again, there was not much way to avoid it. I was tired all the time. I felt so physically ill if I didn't eat. After he was born, I didn't lose 20 pounds like I had with Cora, either, even though Joey was my biggest baby at 8.5 pounds. I was basically at 200 pounds, and that was no fun.

I also felt ravenously hungry while breastfeeding. It's not something you can really explain without experiencing. It's like - a constant thirst, a belly that is always wanting to be filled and never quite satisfied, no matter what.

As soon as I stopped breastfeeding, that hunger went away! I could tolerate feeling hungry without feeling physically ill. That meant it was time to start dieting. I was at 190 pounds, with a huge goal of losing something like 50. So daunting.

Again, I'm not a sick, disgusting person. I don't stuff my face. I eat healthy foods. It's just that, in order to lose weight, you need a calorie deficit. And it really needs be a calorie input deficit, not just an activity deficit. Being active, getting exercise - that's for my mental health, and long-term health. It's not really about the weight loss very much. I have to run in order to not tear my hair out from worry and anxiety.

So yeah. Dieting time. Yay. I am basically following the first phase of this diet because it seems reasonable, doesn't involve calorie counting (which I can't handle), and it was successful. In two weeks I had lost something like 10 pounds. After another two weeks, I passed over a huge plateau barrier to 179.8 pounds. Well, I haven't seen that number in over a year - a 7 in the ten's place. It felt great.

And simultaneously PATHETIC.

But that's not helping, the self-sabotage. I am where I am and that's how it has to be, even if it's not exactly what I'd like. It goes so slowly. It requires so much patience and diligence. Hating myself isn't helpful - it just makes me feel miserable.

Here is what my diet involves:
- write down a daily goal that you CAN accomplish each day
- avoid sugar except what's naturally found in fruit
- limit yourself to 3 total servings of meat and dairy per day
- only snack on fruits and vegetables
- don't look at electronic devices while eating (I am really bad at this)
- record what you eat (not necessarily amounts)
- work out for 30 minutes each day (like, running)
- be active for 60 minutes each day (like, not sitting)
- record your activity
- make the food on your plate fit these physical proportions 50% fruits/vegetables, 25% protein, 25% carbs
- eat fruits and vegetables every day (easy)
- eat at least two healthy fats per day
- eat whole, unprocessed foods every day

Basically, it's trying to do all of these goals every day. When I get to my goal weight, I will probably stop tracking them. But honestly, most of these things are pretty much just good ideas in general. I swear that sugar causes me to have heartburn. I don't understand why. Sugar is everywhere, by the way. It's a little frightening what a hold it has on my culture's diet.

The hardest parts for me are writing down what I eat. I guess there's some interesting studies that showed that this habit was really important for weight loss, across many different kinds of diets. I can handle writing down what I ate, just not down to the last calorie. I get obsessive and that leads to horrible mental anguish.

Meh, who are we kidding. It's all hard. I don't like it. But it's necessary, and I can stand this. I can't handle the thought of cooking separate meals for me and the rest of the family. I can't handle calorie counting at all (I've tried). There are limits to my patience. This is about at the ends of it, but it's within reason. Also, it's not too extreme.

Yay.

"Your time isn't valuable."

Probably every other American mom with more than three school age kids at home feels about the same as I do right now.

I am a broken record. The kids have been out of school for almost three months. Our house is a disaster - and it's not from lack of effort on my part. Our schedules are all messed up. Everybody's getting enough sleep, at least. But everybody's also sleeping in until 8, 9, sometimes 10. Or they wake up at the crack of dawn and sneak to the basement to play videogames. And I laze around playing on my phone until finally everyone is so stir crazy we have to go do something.

The worst part really is the fact that I get to be the CEO of the house. And by CEO I mean "Chief Entropy Officer." I am a nag, and I can't stand it. It feels like nobody is listening. There are messes in our house that every other human being who lives here walks by without noticing, but I certainly notice. It annoys me every time.

During the school year there is some structure imposed on all of us by the school schedule. And I learned many, many years ago the secret to having a clean house: get out of it. When you stay home, your house falls apart. If you go out and do stuff, it stays clean. Simple, right? Well, when it's 90 degrees outside and your three older kids just want to play pokémon together and you have a just-barely-learned-to-walk baby and a whining four year old princess in tow, getting out of the house to go to the pool (hot, sweaty, effort, sunburn, too sunny, really sunny, did I mention sunny?) or wherever sounds like a real drag. I cannot really tell you how many times I've been to the zoo. To the Living History Farms (which is my favorite place in the DSM area, by the way). To this park. To that park. To the other park. To the one pool. To the other pool. To the gym's pool. To the library. To Walmart. To a friend's house. And on and on and on.

My time is not my own.

All of my "down" time recently has been focused on our stake's family history center. I've been trying to get it set up in a reasonably usable way with the material at hand, to make the lab be a space where people would actually want to come and work. People do come to use the center, but it's not during the time when I staff it. I have helped only a small handful of patrons, and that's truly frustrating. It's like I am sacrificing my time, and nobody values it anyway.

My other down time has been spent reading. It's a lonely escapism. I like it, but...

...but...

...yeah.

I like people a lot more. I like talking with people, interacting with people, being around people, making/watching people react to what I have to say. I really hate the isolation of these summer breaks.

"I will probably actually not make bread today."
"Kate, you definitely don't have to. I wouldn't."
"Because you're lazy."
"Right. But really... because it's so much work. And bread isn't that expensive. It's like, $3/loaf."
"Uh, where have you been shopping? It's at least $5/loaf for a comparable loaf."
"Sure, for a comparable loaf. But I'd just make do with the cheap loaf."
"So it would be more like $6/day because you have to eat two loaves of that crappy air-filled bread. Most of what you buy is just air."
"Right, but what I mean is that it's a lot of work and you don't have to do it."
"I think I priced it out once before, and it was something like 5-10x cheaper to make your own bread. Plus, it uses the wheat in our food storage. Plus it's delicious. Plus it's healthier."
"Right, but I would never do it because it's so much work!"
"Well, I don't really mind."
"But, I'm saying that your time is valuable."

[pause]

"My time isn't valuable."

And there we come to the root of the problem. I want my time to be valuable. I personally value my time. The people around me do not. If they did, our house wouldn't be such a disaster. I guess. Maybe I'm wrong.

My brother asked me to read this book called "Boundaries" by Henry Cloud. According to him, my problem is that I do a terrible job of setting boundaries in my life. Of saying "no." Of making sure that the people in my world know my own limits.

Pfffft.

First of all, I am objectively already doing a pretty good job at those things. I can't do better than my best.

Second, this guy has a wife and two kids. I don't especially think he's qualified to tell me that I suck at parenting five small kids that are close together in age, whatever his public or research accolades may be. Maybe a father of ten kids might have a clue. I'd probably be more likely to appreciate and listen to the mother, if she were the primary caregiver.

Third, this is not a helpful message for me. I don't need criticism and nitpicking of my imperfections. I need patient praise and wise words about how to overcome perfectionism.

"Yeah. Apparently this jerk thinks a lack of boundaries is the root cause of my anxiety."
"Jeez Kate, why didn't you think of that before? 'I am putting a boundary around myself: no more anxiety.'"

hahahahahaha

#toolongarantforfacebook
#dumpitonmyblogwithapproximatelyfiveregularreaders

But really, I think my personal stay at home mom angst could be summed up in these four (or five, depending on how you want to count it) little words: "Your time isn't valuable."

I know it should be.

I know I'm really smart.

I know that I could be making a lot of money at some desk somewhere.

I know that I could be helping educate the future and making a big difference in the lives of young people by teaching somewhere.

I know that I could be writing and presenting on interesting topics and receiving all the same kinds of alphabet soup credentials and public accolades at the back of my name, like the aforementioned Dr. Cloud. What's more, the self help book I would write, were I to venture down that genre's rabbit hole, would be backed up with all kinds of empirical data rather than bible verses (vomit). Did I mention this book is basically the single-most wrath inducing thing I've read this summer?

The sacrifice is immense. I don't know what else there is to say about it besides the sacrifice is almost too much.

I dream about graduate school, where somebody will be required to read my writing and give me feedback, where I'll sit in a classroom with people, where I'll get some small beginning of alphabet soup credentials to pile next to my name, and where I'll get to use my time to learn about interesting, deep things that I care about rather than scrub the kitchen sink for the millionth time.

It's not like I haven't been trying to use my time well, either. I know I do a good job of trying to juggle interesting projects and aspirations. But when I'm in graduate school, the people around me will have to buck up and deal with it. To face the fact that they have to value my time. And I'm not talking about Danny, who actually does value my time. I am mostly talking about my kids.

Honestly, I think the truth is they won't even notice because my school will mostly overlap when they're at school or it will be in the evenings. But we will see.

I hate it when my personal values conflict. How valuable I esteem my time to be constantly conflicts with how important I believe it is to care for children. The latter always wins, and it's really hard.

So this is why I have a blog. To complain about it.