Losing Yourself, Part 3

The beginning of this post may not seem directly related to the others of the same title, but bear with me (if you feel like it). It all ties into where I am right now. A couple years ago a friend recommended a book that I've previously posted a summary of here. It's called The Parenting Breakthrough: A Real-Life Plan to Teach Kids to Work, Save Money, and Be Truly Independent, by Merilee Browne Boyack. I really like the parenting principles in this book, especially the ideas for gradually teaching your children skills that will help them learn to be independent, productive adults. Last summer I decided it was high time to put some of these ideas into practice. I helped my three older boys set some goals for learning and doing age-appropriate skills--chores, reading, family scripture study, Cub Scouts requirements, etc. I tried to keep them simple, doable, and relatively short-term. There were intermediate rewards, but the big prize for reaching their summer goals was a trip to Lagoon, Utah's only amusement park (made especially tantalizing by driving past it every time we go to Jeff's parents house). The kids seemed okay with the goals, but were more excited about the rewards, of course. In the book, Sister Boyack also asserts that the real reward is that when your kids learn how to do things by themselves it becomes a source of self-esteem and empowerment for them. That made sense too.

Dummy me though. I should have known better than to expect that my kids would want to learn how to mop the floor because it would make them feel more grown up and independent, or even because it would help them get to Lagoon. I still believe the principles in the book are good, and I haven't given up on them, but either I didn't apply them effectively, or I just expected too much. I spent the whole summer babying my kids toward their goals, prodding them along, trying to help them and teach them, but nagging and listening to their whining more than anything. By mid-August the goals on their lists were all checked off, but I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. We went to Lagoon, but I felt like I had earned it for them. I knew my efforts hadn't been in vain, that my boys had made some progress and learned a few things, but I wasn't sure it was worth all the trouble. I was so tired and so ready for school to start again, ready to not have everybody home 24/7. I felt guilty for feeling that way, but I was to the point that I thought if I could just make it until school started, I could recuperate and hang on to my sanity.

Then school did start and I had a little more room to breathe, but my state of mind didn't get any better. I couldn't figure it out. The end of September came, and I went to the broadcast of the General Relief Society Meeting really hungry for something to lift me up, something to guide me out of the slump I was in. I had great expectations because General Conference and the General Relief Society Meeting are always a feast for me, a chance to recharge my batteries. And boy, did they need recharging. I don't remember why, but the Saturday of the broadcast was a particularly awful day for me. I dressed and went to the stake center alone, in a bad mood, just praying to be able to feel the Spirit and get something out of it.

The talks from the General Relief Society presidency were all good, but surprisingly, none of them spoke to me. I felt even more discouraged. Then President Uchtdorf stood up to the pulpit and said the words I needed to hear. You can read his talk, entitled "Happiness, Your Heritage," here, or listen to it here. I won't try summarize everything he said, but he addressed it to "those who have ever felt inadequate, discouraged, or weary"--ME, right then and there. In the kind and gentle way that to me is becoming his trademark, he validated my feelings and challenges, then taught two principles that can allow us to feel God's happiness despite our burdens--creation and compassion.

As I listened, I realized that the God-given part of me that needs to create is starving. Tears came to my eyes. I felt that my mental and emotional fatigue will be lessened and my emptiness will be filled if I can find a way to feed that need to create. It was eye-opening to me, but I knew I'd have to ponder more on exactly what and how I need to go about creating.

Elder Uchtdorf continued on to talk about compassion, about serving and lifting others. His words motivated me to look for more small and simple things I can do for those around me, but I didn't feel like I was as lacking in compassion as I am in creation. As I listened further though, he said, "As we lose ourselves in the service of others, we discover our own lives and our own happiness." Then he said, "You wonderful sisters render compassionate service to others for reasons that supersede desires for personal benefits. In this you emulate the Savior. . . . His thoughts were always tuned to help others. He taught, healed, conversed, and listened to others. . . . He taught and lived by this doctrine: 'He that is greatest among you shall be your servant.'" (Matt. 23:11). This got me thinking all over again about the balance between serving others and nourishing myself, filling my own cup. How do I follow the example of Christ--that I want to follow--and lose myself in the service of others, without losing myself? It seems like the part of me that needs nourishing--the part of me that needs to create--is the part of me that gets neglected as I use most of my time and energy in the service of others, which is supposed to help me discover myself and my happiness. I do find happiness and fulfillment in serving others most of the time, but other times I just feel burned out, depleted. If the principles of creation and compassion will help me feel God's happiness, how can I find room for both in my finite life?

As I took in Elder Uchtdorf's talk, my emotions were mixed. I was relieved and confused, happy that my challenges were validated and addressed, just as I'd hoped, but unsure exactly how to apply his counsel to my life. As I left the meeting, I couldn't keep the tears from coming. I drove to a park and sat in my van and sobbed until I could compose myself enough to go home.

Yes, there's still at least one more part to this long story. Stay tuned. If you want to.