Chapter 4: “Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” ― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin

The blond girl pulled at the pink and purple dance costume. She had only a few minutes before going back to the gym floor to perform with the other girls on the dance team and she was desperately trying to get the costume to stop being so tight on her body. No matter what she did the fabric would always snap back into place around her. The panic began to set in as she remembered the conversation with her mother several months before.

"Mom, can I do dance this year?"
"Are you sure? Sometimes the costumes are quite snug."

At the time, the blond girl was worried that her mother didn't want anybody to see her chubby young daughter. Now, as the performance had arrived she realized how well her mother knew her. The blond girl continued to pull and try to stretch the fabric, but it was useless. Every fat roll on her body was about to be displayed in front of hundreds of people.

As she walked out onto the floor she tried her best to hide the embarrassment. She could feel all the eyes in the audience on her and she just knew that everyone was disgusted with the fat blond girl in the tight costume. The music began and she started to do the dance moves the way she had been taught, but then she realized that if she moved then all of her extra weight would jiggle and everyone would see it. She kept pushing herself to perform the dance, but tried to make the movements smaller. She willed herself not to cry and silently prayed that it would be over soon. 

The blond girl, who had wanted so badly to be able to perform and dance, went home that night and knew she would never be a dancer. She was just too fat and ugly. She climbed under the covers, buried her head in her pillow, and allowed her thoughts to tell their usual bedtime story of what an awful, horrible, ugly, fat, untalented little blond girl she was. 

* * * * * * * * *

I neatly folded the blue polo shirt and stacked it on top of the red t-shirt with "Ogden LDS Institute" printed in white letters across the front. I looked at everything I had packed and double checked that I hadn't forgotten anything. The semester had finally come to an end. I somehow managed to survive my finals, though I don't know how I was able to pass any of them. It had been a challenging semester and I was ready to go on the choir tour that the Choralaires had been working toward for months. I had been looking forward to this tour, until about a week before we were to leave.

"You do realize that you're going to have to eat while you're on tour, right?" Chris wouldn't be going on tour because of work.

"I'll figure it out. I think I can find ways to get out of it." I said, frustrated that I was having this conversation again.

"ShaRee, you're going to be sight seeing all day long and performing every night. You need to eat. You're also going to be staying with families who are going to be serving you meals. You can't just turn down their kindness."

As I looked into his face I had a hard time reading his emotion. Was it concern? It couldn't be concern. I wasn't doing anything wrong. The therapist had said I didn't have an eating disorder. Why was he telling me this?

"I'll figure it out." I said, just wanting the uneasiness to be over.

That moment played in my head as I sat near the suitcase. I would be flying out in the morning to go to the Carolina's and I was already having anxiety over eating and food due to the girl's weekend I'd had with my mom and sisters in Orem.  My mom had begun to be suspicious of what was really going on with me, yet I still felt an overwhelming need to continue to hide it from her and the rest of the family. My mom, my older sister, my younger sister Heather, and I had so much fun together, but the thought of the chicken chimichanga I had eaten made me sick. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms tightly around them and began to rock back and forth as I remembered the yellow cake with white frosting. A year previous it had been the cake served at my older sister's wedding reception. We had taken the frozen top layer out over our girls weekend, and I ate a slice. Why had I eaten a slice?! I rocked back and forth, trying desperately not to have a break down.

"The bathroom is free if you want to go get ready for bed." Jamie said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

A few months earlier, as we were preparing for tour, we were informed that we would have to pick a partner to share a suitcase with, which meant that we would also be staying at the homes of the host families together. They would essentially be our roommates for tour. I had no idea who I was supposed to ask. I had spent most of the semester hiding behind Chris. I looked around the choir room and realized that I hadn't spent a lot of time talking with any of the people in the room, convinced that none of them would want to be friends with me and paranoid that they were all disgusted with my size. How was I supposed to approach any of them?

"ShaRee? Have you found a suitcase partner yet?"

I turned around to see Jamie Nielsen. She was a few inches shorter than me and had the most beautiful, long, thick black hair that I'd ever seen. She was also a music major and we'd been in a few classes together, but had never really talked.

"No. Have you?"

"No, would you wanna be my suitcase partner? I even have a suitcase we can use."

"Yeah! That would be great!"

Since that day we had been spending more time getting to know each other before tour and had started becoming good friends. For her music technology class, she was required to write and record a song and asked me to sing the duet with her on the recording. She even altered my dress for me when it became apparent that the skirt was no longer going to stay up on my ever shrinking body. I found that I enjoyed having a friend in my life that wasn't wrapped up in my eating habits and questioning me about it all the time. It was refreshing.

Now, the night before tour, here I was sitting on her bedroom floor trying to hide the battle being waged in my head.

"Ok, thanks Jamie."

I grabbed what I needed and headed to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind me, I took a second to take a deep breath before walking to the mirror. I stared at myself, taking my time to inspect every inch of my body, taking note of any changes that had happened. My stomach looked bigger, and with each moment I looked at it I began to let the fear take over.

See, this is what happens when you eat food! Look at how big you got after two days of eating. You are never going to be able to fit into your pants for tour. Everyone is going to notice that you ate all that food. They'll think you are even more disgusting. Look what you did!

I had just gone down another pant size and was excited when I went to the store to buy a couple of new pair of pants. Jamie and I had joked about my "saggy bum pants" that were currently hanging off of me. What if I couldn't fit into the smaller size because I had eaten that piece of cake?! Knowing I had to get up early, I gave up trying to will my stomach to be smaller and walked back into Jamie's room.

We talked about the schedule for the following day and then went to bed. I lay on my makeshift bed on Jamie's floor and silently prayed that I would be able to fit into my pants. I pleaded for my Father in Heaven to help me lose weight and promised Him that I would never eat like that again. When I finished my prayer I stared at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. A pattern I was now extremely familiar with. I continued to listen to my thoughts tell me how ugly I was, when a new worry set in. The scratchiness in my throat from the day before was beginning to turn into an aching lump. I closed my eyes tight and whispered over and over again, "Please don't let me get sick. Please don't let me get sick." I was convinced this was happening because I had eaten food. I hadn't been sick all semester until now, a day after I had eaten food. It couldn't be a coincidence.

* * * * * * * * * 

I marveled at how green everything was in South Carolina. I had woken up with a sore throat and immediately started taking vitamin C. I knew there was nothing I could do, but I was hoping that even just a little bit would help it from worsening. Our flight had gone smoothly, and we were now on our bus heading toward the church building where we were to meet our first host family.

It felt good after a long day of flying to get off the bus and stretch my legs. There was a lot of confusion as everyone unloaded suitcases and tried to track down their host families. Jamie and I found the woman holding our number and introductions were quickly made. Her accent was so charming that I found myself just wanting to listen to every word she was saying. Jamie did an excellent job of keeping the conversation going and helping us all get acquainted and comfortable with each other. We turned into a beautiful gated community and pulled up to the most gorgeous red brick home with tall, ornate pillars framing the front door. It was a house like those I had only seen in the movies.

"My husband wanted to come home and get dinner started for you, that's why he couldn't come pick you up with me."

"So, what does your husband do for a living?" I asked as we pulled into the garage. I was curious what someone had to do to own such a lovely home, but I also just wanted to keep her talking to hear her accent.

"He is a lawyer. We also have a daughter. You might get to meet her tonight, but she kind of likes to keep to herself."

We grabbed all of our belongings from the SUV and walked into the kitchen. I immediately smelled the familiar scent of meat on a grill. The anxiety snapped me out of this dream I had apparently walked into. A second before I had been enjoying the green South Carolina landscape, charming accents, and the wonder of seeing such a grand home and now I was back into my cage of food, weight, and fear. How was I going to get out of this meal? How could I lose more weight? How much exercising could I do? My thoughts were spinning when I heard a door open and looked over to see a man wearing a suit and an apron walking toward us. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. He was a man whose stature wasn't quite as big as his personality. What his wife offered in gentility and sweetness he balanced out with humor and bluntness.

"What do all ya'all call that?" he asked, gesturing to where his grill was currently cooking the round slabs of ground beef.

Jamie and I looked at each other in slight confusion. Not completely sure what he was asking.

"What do you call a meal that consists of grilled hamburgers?" he seemed anxious for us to answer and had a slight smirk on his face.

"A barbecue?" Jamie answered, almost timidly, not quite sure why he was asking such a bizarre question.

"Wrong! That is not 'a barbecue', that is called cooking out. I'm grilling the food. It's a cook out. Ya'all don't know what real barbecue is, but it isn't what we're having tonight. So from now on, when you have parties where people bring food to cook on a grill, stop referring to it is a barbecue. You're having a cook out!"

Jamie and I started to laugh as we realized that we had just been lectured by a true southerner on something that we Utahns had clearly been getting wrong our whole lives. I wasn't sure what "real barbecue" was, but I had clearly never had it and he wanted to make sure that we fixed our mistake. We readily apologized for our offensive mistake and were shown to the room where we would be staying so that we could get settled before dinner.

"Jamie, this place is so nice!" we looked around the room and took the opportunity to relax and visit for a minute while we were alone.

"I know. And did you notice that they had full house stairs?"

"They have what?"

"You know! The stairs like on Full House. The kind that go up in one room and come down in another."

I started to laugh as it dawned on me what she was saying.

"Oh yeah, I did notice that. That is so funny that you call it that." I grabbed my bottle of vitamin C and popped another tablet in my mouth.

"Are you feeling any better?" She had been the one that suggested the vitamins when I told her I felt a cold coming on.

"Yeah, a little I guess. I don't feel any worse, so maybe this'll be as bad as it gets. Maybe after I get a good nights rest I'll feel better. It's just been a long day and I didn't get a ton of sleep last night."

"I hear ya. Hey, we better get down there for dinner."

My mind was racing for any way to get out of the meal without being rude, but Chris was right. I couldn't offend these people who were being so kind to me and we had been instructed to be extremely courteous to our host families. I started to rub my hands together nervously as I stood up from the bed and followed Jamie down for dinner.

* * * * * * * * *

"I just can't believe how green everything is."

After dinner they offered to take us on a tour of Columbia. I was excited to get out and see more of South Carolina, and be distracted from the mess inside my head. Unfortunately, the distraction part never came. Just more opportunity for stress and negative thoughts. When we got out of the vehicle I found myself staring at a sign that said Cold Stone. I had never heard of it, but it was apparent that it was an ice cream shop of some sort. I scratched my arm several times and followed the group into shop. The smell of waffle cones immediately overwhelmed me. It smelled so good, but I wanted to scream. I was frustrated and didn't know how to escape the situation. I didn't want to make a scene, but I also wanted to run out of there as fast as I could. No more food! I didn't want anymore. 

"I love this place! It is so good. Have you ever been here before? What are you going to get?" Jamie's words brought me back to reality.

"Uh, no. I've never been here. I don't know what to get, but maybe I just won't have any. I'm still pretty full from dinner."

"Of course you're having some! You've never had it before and we're offering you some, so you're going to have some." I smiled at my "host dad" as his larger than life personality came into our conversation. I was beginning to see how he was such a successful lawyer. "Now, do you want some recommendations or have you decided what you want."

I followed Jamie's lead as she picked an ice cream flavor and a treat to have mixed in with it. I spent a lot of time stirring the ice cream around and slowly taking small bites, trying to please the family who had paid for it, but also trying not to eat very much of it. Conversations were happening around me, yet I had no idea what was being said. I kept a pleasant smile on my face, trying to hide the war being waged within. 

We all piled back into the SUV and continued our tour. As the sun was getting closer to setting, we pulled in front of the building I recognized immediately. Though I had never been to this particular location, there is no mistaking when you are looking at a temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  The immaculately kept landscaping surrounded the white building. Though it wasn't as big as the temples I was used to seeing in Utah, it's majesty was not diminished in the least. I marveled at how even the outside of a building can show so much power, reverence, and beauty; it glows, almost as if to let those who see it know the incredible work being done on the inside. We drove away from the temple and I turned my head to get one last glimpse.

We received quite the tour of the city, full of commentary from our host family who had lived there many years. That's when I realized I couldn't wait any longer. The water I had been drinking all day to hopefully help me get over my cold, had led to an intense feeling of needing to go the bathroom. It hit rather suddenly, but I convinced myself that I could hold it until we got back to the house. Once it became clear that this tour was going to outlast my bladder, I came to the conclusion that the situation had reached emergency status and action needed to be taken. 

"Would it be possible for us to stop somewhere so I can use the restroom?" 

"We were just at Cold Stone! Why didn't you go when we were there?!" His words sounded just like the lectures that so many young children had received from their parents. Jamie and I gave a little laugh, but I wasn't ready to give up yet.

"That was forever ago! I've been holding it for a long time as it is." I smiled as I gave it the best whiny teenager sound to add to the humor of the situation.

"Well, you're just going to have to hold it a lot longer, because we're not stopping." 

I'm sure he expected this to be the final word on the matter, but I was in pain and knew I wouldn't hold out much longer. I had to give it one more shot. 

"These seats sure look nice. What is this? Leather?" I asked, giving the seats a gentle caress. I looked up to notice him looking at me in the rear view mirror and I raised my eyebrows at him.

I knew he had understood my threat by the way he slammed on his breaks, made an illegal u-turn, and pulled into the nearest convenience store. Jamie was roaring with laughter the whole time. All the women got out of the car and made our way to the restroom, laughing all the way.

* * * * * * * * *

More crunches. You need to do more crunches. You are so disgusting. You probably gained ten pounds today. You should have tried harder to get out of eating that food. What a horrible disgusting pig! You need to find a way to fix this. You are so fat. Everyone is going to be able to tell how much you've eaten. Work out more. You better fix this. why are you so disgusting?

I continued to do crunches, pilates, squats, running in place, and any other exercise I could think of while Jamie was in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Sitting alone in the room was too much. I took note of how my pajamas were fitting on my body. I began to breathe quickly and tears welled up in my eyes as my hands shakily moved across my stomach and felt how much bigger it felt than it had before my girls weekend. I got back down on the ground and began another set of crunches.

"What are you doing?" Jamie walked back into the room with a light hearted laugh. I mustered up a half smile as I continued to do the only thing keeping the stress under control.

"How many calories do you think was in that ice cream?" I couldn't hold back the desperation in my voice, but hoped she didn't notice.

"I don't know. Maybe a few hundred? Are you ok?" She must have noticed the look of terror on my face as she gave her best guess as to how many calories were in the ice cream. My head was spinning as I tried to think through what I would need to do to burn all of that off. 

"Yeah, I have just broken a lot of my diet rules in the last two days and it's kind of stressing me out. I need to be better tomorrow. I'm probably going to need to work out a lot every night."

"Ok." She looked at me, seeming almost unsure of how to react. "Are you almost done? Do you think we need to go say goodnight?"

"I guess we should." I rolled onto my stomach to stretch my core after finishing another 100 crunches. I lay on the ground as I finished, realizing just how exhausted I was from the days adventures. 

"Hey, let's go down the full house stairs when we go to say goodnight to them." We both started laughing at how ridiculous we were, but I was secretly excited to down the other set of stairs as well.

We started down the hallway in the opposite direction we had taken to get to the room. My thoughts were on what kind of things I could say to the wonderful host family as we approached the stairs, glad that I had thought to put socks on my freezing feet. My right foot stepped down on the first step and my stomach turned as I felt my foot slip forward. I continued to slide down the stairs in the most unbecoming fashion. By the time I was able to grab hold of something and bring myself to a stop, I was almost at the bottom. I was clinging desperately to the railing and tried to make sense of what just happened. My right leg was stretched out below me, pain screaming from my shins. My left leg was directly behind me in an awkward position due to the upward slant of the stairs. The last time I had done splits was as a young child on the dance team. All the exercising and stretching I'd been doing over the last few months had not prepared me for the pain my body was experiencing after being forced to do the splits on some newly polished hard wood stairs. 

I continued to quickly assess the damage, looking to Jamie for help, only to see her sitting at the top of the stairs laughing uncontrollably. I think it was at that moment that I knew we were going to be good friends. I simultaneously wanted to slap her for being a jerk and hug her for helping me see the humor of my awkward moment. I started to laugh right along with her. We heard our host mother come rushing around the corner.

"I've gotta go! Someone just fell down my stairs!" She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, pulling her black cordless phone away from her ear. Hearing her exclamation to her friend on the other line screamed out in her southern accent started another round of laughing fits from both Jamie and I. I clumsily found a way to get both of my legs facing the same direction, pulled myself into a standing position, and carefully hobbled down the last few steps; doubling over in laughter once I reached the bottom.

"Are you ok?!" Our host mother had clearly not reached the point of seeing the humor of the situation. So I collected myself enough to splutter out the embarrassing story of how I took a very quick trip down their full house stairs. We all giggled our good nights to each other and decided against trying to make the trek up the stairs of death, opting instead for the safe carpeted stairs.

That night, as Jamie and I lay in bed, we talked a lot and laughed even more. We discussed many things and found that we had more in common than we had originally thought. Both of us were a little bit shy, so we decided to make a goal to help each other come out of our shells. This tour was going to be a turning point for both of us. We talked late into the night until our exhaustion overcame us. I smiled as my eyes finally stopped fighting to stay open. It had been a long time since I'd laughed this much. I tried to picture what I looked like falling down those stairs. Giving a quiet laugh, I rolled onto my side and drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * * * * *

The hot water felt good on my exhausted body. The few hours of sleep I'd had, though restful, weren't enough. I knew the instant I woke up that something was wrong. I hoped that a hot shower would remedy the problem. I breathed in the steam deeply, realizing that it was no use. My voice was gone.

I finished getting ready and walked back into the bedroom. I explained to Jamie what was wrong through a series of whispers and squeaks.

"Maybe it'll get better as the day goes on." Her cheerful attitude made me more hopeful than I had been.

"Yeah, maybe. What use am I going to be on a choir tour if I don't have any voice?" I could hardly get sound out to talk, I didn't even want to know what I sounded like when I tried to sing.

We hauled all of our luggage down the stairs. I knew what was waiting for us and I tried to think up excuses. I had been trying to think up excuses all morning. I looked at the cereal on the counter. I poured some milk over the frosted mini wheats and began stirring. I took a few bites, angry that I was doing so. I made some excuse about not having much of an appetite and we got in the car to go to the rendezvous before traveling to Charleston.

Each step I took reminded me of my graceful fall down the stairs the night before. My right leg ached from ankle to thigh. Lately, any small bump on the skin was causing bruises that had a hard time healing, so I anticipated that this newly forming bruise was going to be large and not go away for a very long time. Walking around Charleston was amazing. The slave markets, the brightly colored houses, and the history of the city all offered so much for me to take in.

Every stop we made gave me no option but to fall in love with the south. The people were so endearing and were always so kind and welcoming. The beautiful, old buildings surrounded by the green landscape mixed with brightly colored flowers created a feast for the eyes. I never wanted to leave. We followed this same schedule every day: get on the bus, go to a tourist destination in a new city, sight see, do random performances for people we met on the street, put on a full length show every night, meet our new host family, go to their home and sleep, wake up and start over again. Each day I woke up more exhausted than the day before, yet excited to see what the day would bring. I also began to love getting to know each new host family. Jamie and I had so much fun staying with the kind members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

"Do you want to see our pet hamsters?" The young girls were so excited to have us in their small home. They had been at our performance and the entire family seemed so happy to have two young women from Utah join them for the evening.

"Sure." Jamie was so good at finding common ground with the families and showing so much interest in whatever they wanted to share with us. I tried to follow her example, but sometimes it was just a bit too much for me. The girls led us to their room to show us the cage where they kept their hamsters.

"We breed them." The oldest of the girls enthusiastically told us.

"Wow! That's cool." I was so glad that she was able to be so interested. All I could manage was a half smile and a barely audible "hmmm" as I bent down to feign interest in the little creatures that reminded me too much of mice.

"That ones eyes are red because it's mom and dad are brother and sister."

My eyes popped open as I looked at the tiny hamster with the flaming red eyes. I looked at Jamie as she offered some sort of remark, but could tell she was just as in shock as I was. She was doing a much better job of hiding her laughter than I was. I turned my head and covered my mouth, but it was no use.

* * * * * * * * *

I didn't want to see our time in South Carolina end. So many wonderful and fun things had happened there and I knew I would miss being there as we made our way to North Carolina. Each night that I was unable to sing in a performance became more and more frustrating. I began feeling that I shouldn't have even come. What difference was I even making? I wasn't contributing to the performances in anyway. All I could do was mouth the words. And on top of it all, I was having to eat way more food than I was comfortable with. I was able to witness so many beautiful miracles, which made me happy. However, being unable to be a part of everything was breaking my heart. I wanted to feel like I was bearing testimony of the Savior, His atonement, and the gospel through song. Instead I was lip synching and watching everyone else doing all the work.

* * * * * * * * *

The amount of sleep I got was never enough. Though the morning was bright and cheerful, my attitude was not. I was exhausted. I didn't want to sight see anymore, I just wanted to sleep. I was contemplating asking permission to stay on the bus and sleep instead of touring the Airborne Museum in Fayetteville, North Carolina, when I heard an excited shout from Jaron, one of the other choir members. Looking out the window to my left I noticed a group of soldiers all standing at attention. Some were American, but there were many more that were obviously from somewhere else.

"They're Korean!!" Jaron could hardly contain himself. He had served his mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in South Korea. Spending two years serving the people of that nation had obviously left a lasting impression on him. He was off the bus and running before the rest of us were even out of our seats. 

We were all smiling and laughing at Jaron's reaction. I pulled myself up out of the bus seat that I was getting used to spending so much time in. Positive that I wouldn't enjoy myself due to being tired and sick, I forced myself off the bus and made my way into the museum. Jamie and I walked around looking at everything there was to see and experience. I found that the more I interacted with others and moved around the less I seemed to notice my exhaustion. I love learning about history and the Airborne Museum had plenty to offer. Every once in a while we would see some Korean soldiers walking around with Jaron. It was fascinating to hear him speaking their native language. The tour guide told us how the soldiers were in America training with our paratroopers and as the tour went on I noticed a sense of excitement spreading.

Word finally reached us that our director had decided that we were going to put on an impromptu performance for the visiting soldiers. As the theme of our show was based on patriotism, it seemed fitting. However, we decided to sing one more song that we hadn't prepared for our show at all. We started by singing a medley of the hymns from the different branches of the U.S. military. It was always amazing to see how much people enjoyed to hear the songs that were so familiar to them and brought such a sense of pride for those that fight for our freedom, but it was the unplanned song that changed everyone's lives that day. 

The song we chose was familiar to all of us in the choir, and is extremely well known to all members of the church. It was decided that we would all sing the first verse together, but that we would gently hum the second verse while Jaron sang the words in Korean. As we started, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. After all this was a song that we had sung since we were old enough to speak.

I am a child of God and He has sent me here,
Has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear

As with every other performance we'd done, I had tried the best I could to make any kind of sound. I was managing a few whispered notes, but not much else. We continued:

Lead me, guide me, walk beside me, help me find the way.
Teach me all that I must do to live with Him someday.

Though we hadn't practiced this song previously, I noticed how the children's song we all adored sounded particularly beautiful with the unified voices of everyone in the choir. The large atrium in which we were singing seemed to take the sound and magnify it all around the room. There was such a reverence felt in the room, and as we started into the second verse no one was prepared for what would happen. We quietly hummed and Jaron's beautiful tenor voice began singing out the familiar words in Korean.

I am a child of God, and so my needs are great;
Help me to understand His words before it grows too late
Lead me, guide me, walk beside me, help me find the way.
Teach me all that I must do to live with Him someday.

From the very beginning of the verse, a feeling spread around the room. It was so powerful and strong. My bottom lip began to quiver and what little sound I was making was choked by the unexpected tears of joy. I looked to the soldiers standing on the other side of the atrium and noticed tears streaming down all of their faces as well. The feeling of love in that room was undeniable. Understanding the meaning of the words helped us all to know the truthfulness of the message we were trying to spread. As we all joined in on the third and final verse, I realized that I didn't want this moment to end. 

I am a child of God. Rich blessings are in store;
If I but learn to do His will, I'll live with him once more.
Lead me, guide me, walk beside me, help me find the way.
Teach me all that I must do to live with Him someday.

The final note echoed into silence and no one moved. No one wanted to interrupt the spirit that was with us testifying of our Saviors love for us. The general stepped forward and began speaking. Jaron translated his words for us.

"Thank you for sharing with us such heavenly and angelic music. We came here to train with your country, and after hearing this I now know that we can trust you."

He then proceeded to award Jaron and our director with medals from their country. After we were done with all of this we visited with the foreign guests. It was incredible to hear stories of how some of them wanted to contact our missionaries as soon as they got home, or explained how they had never felt the way that they had felt that day and wanted to know what it was. I couldn't stop smiling as I watched friendships being made and love being shared between people from different sides of the world who didn't fully understand each other through the spoken language. 

Earlier that morning I had to force myself to get off the bus, but as we were instructed that we had to go to our next performance destination I had to force myself to leave the museum. I hoped that I could keep this feeling with me for the rest of the day.

That night the thoughts began again. What should have been such a highlight from the day was quickly taken away by my thoughts.

You didn't even contribute to what happened today. Nothing that you're doing on this tour is helping. Your voice is the only thing that makes you worth anything and you don't have that right now. You're useless. It's because you are eating so much food. Why did you even come. No one wants you here. You're just wasted space. You are worthless. You are useless. 

I silently began praying: "Heavenly Father please help me. Why am I on this tour? I've been looking forward to this all semester, I don't want to leave here feeling like I didn't have a purpose here. Please let me be of some use. I am so grateful to be here and witness everything that is going on, but I want to contribute, not just see everyone else doing all the work. Please let me share my testimony. Please help me get my voice back. Please."

* * * * * * * * *

Tour continued and I pushed myself to keep doing what I could. Jamie and I definitely started to come out of our shells more. I dare say that some may even referred to us as 'obnoxious'. But after a life time of feeling like I couldn't really come out of my shell, it felt good to let my carefree side show it's lovely face for a bit. The bruise on my leg had turned a deep blue and was still tender to the touch. Each step caused a slight pain that made me smile remembering how I'd received the giant, painful discoloration on my skin. Jamie constantly had me laughing. Especially the night I met her dad.

Jamie had received permission to spend one of the nights of tour at her fathers house instead of with a host family. Since he lived in North Carolina it was a fun chance for her to spend time with him. After our performance, we went back to his place. I was so ready for bed. We would be sleeping in her little sisters room. He had so kindly set up an extra mattress up on the floor, which Jamie offered to take so that I could have the twin bed. It was a comfortable bed, with a single sheet covering it. I curled up and began trying to fall asleep, but the air conditioning was blowing right on me and the sheet wasn't enough to warm my body. I didn't want to wake Jamie up. I could tell by her breathing that she was sound asleep, but I couldn't take the shivering any longer.

"Jamie." I whispered it as gently as I could. No movement.

"Jamie." I tried to be a little bit louder. Nothing.

I reached over the edge of the bed and gently tapped on her shoulder as I said her name one more time.

"Hmmm?" Her groggy response was music to my ears. I was finally going to get warmth.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, but I am freezing. Do you have an extra blanket somewhere that I can have?

Her reply wasn't quite what I was expecting from the kind and caring person I'd come to know over the last week and a half.

"The only blanket I have is the one I'm using!" Her annoyed tone of voice reminded me of the way mean girls talk to their victims. Once she finished her speaking, she rolled over and quickly went back to sleep. I stared at her, stunned by the way she had just talked to me. I was kind of hurt by the way she treated me. I wrapped the sheet as tightly around my body as I could, then curled up in a ball, hoping that sleep would somehow find it's way to me that night.

"Did you sleep alright last night?" I couldn't believe she was seriously asking how I slept.

"Um, not really. I was kind of cold." 

"Why didn't you ask for another blanket?"She seemed surprised that I hadn't thought to do that. I was so confused.

"Jamie, I did. You got snippy with me and told me the only one you had was the one you were using." 

"I don't remember this AT ALL!" She couldn't contain her laughing.

"You mean you were talking in your sleep?! You have got to be kidding me!" I was laughing now as well.

"Just so you know, you're kind of a jerk when you sleep talk."

We laughed about that one all day long. We also ended up with the most entertaining woman I have ever met in my life as a host mom. She was a single woman and was obviously so excited to have us be in her home. Two other girls in our choir were staying with one of her neighbors and she invited them over to get in her hot tub. I hadn't even packed a swimming suit. There was no way that I was ever going to let anyone see just how huge I was. The thought terrified me. I sat on a chair just outside the hot tub while everyone else enjoyed the hot water. 

"Do ya know what? What do all ya'all think of Tom Cruise? I think he is just drippin'!"

We busted out in a chorus of laughter. None of us had ever heard such a phrase. What does that even mean? She was just so friendly and said whatever came to her mind. I wished that I could be like her. She just seemed so down to earth and didn't care what others thought of her. She was who she was and she didn't apologize for it. I think that's what made her so charming, in her own unique way. She had water beds for us. I was so excited. I had never slept on a water bed, but had often wished I could've when I was a child. I sat down on the bed and looked around the room. That's when I spotted the most peculiar thing. My laughter turned to a wheeze as I quickly went to the room next door to find Jamie.

"Hey, you have to come take a picture of this. You won't believe it."

"What is it?"

"Just come and see."

I guided her back to my room, took the item off the shelf and modeled it for Jamie, just the way the girls on The Price is Right do.

"White Trash Soap. Where do people come up with the stuff?!"

Jamie snapped a picture and we started giggling as we discussed all of the fun things that our host mom had said and done. The next morning she gave each of us a sack lunch. A giant sack lunch. She obviously wanted to make sure that we were well fed. Even the way she packed our lunch and the things she put in it reflected her personality. She even put a keychain in there for us that had the state bird on it. Our host families really taught me a lot about seeing the good in people and how it's possible to love others so quickly. Her kindness reflected the way that we had been treated by all of our host families. It was beautiful.

* * * * * * * * * 

The tour had come to an end. It was an exhausting yet spiritually uplifting experience. I had been able to visit so many wonderful places: the Biltmore Estate, the Mansfield Plantation, and Fort Sumter. I had so much fun making friends with those in the choir and on the dance team and being able to meet so many incredible people who were willing to take us into there homes. Over all it had been a wonderful experience.

On the bus ride back to the airport I stared out the window. There was still the nagging feeling that I was unable to be of any use throughout tour. I hadn't been a missionary and witnessed of the truthfulness of the gospel. I hadn't been able to use my talent at all. Though my voice had begun to return slightly I was only able to sing a few songs for our final performance. I was saddened that I couldn't have done more. I tried to think of other reasons that I was supposed to come on tour. I found comfort knowing that I had found such a good friend. Jamie and I hardly knew each other at the beginning of the semester, but by the end of tour we knew so much about each other and had helped each other be outgoing and create a fun environment for others. I really was so grateful that I'd been able to meet her because of tour. It was a good reason to come on tour, but it still didn't help get rid of the nagging feeling that I was useless.

* * * * * * * * *

We pulled into the rest area to stretch our legs. Even though I didn't have a need to go to the bathroom I figured that I'd better go anyway since we still had a two hour drive to the airport. It felt good to get off the bus and walk around. I made my way to the bathroom and was surprised that there weren't more of us fighting to get in. There were only a couple of the choir members in the bathroom when I heard to women talking loudly as they entered. 

"Look at all those young people! Where do you think they're from?"

"I don't know, but look - they're all wearing the same shirts. I wonder if they're doing a tour of some sort."

"I smiled as they turned the corner to see me standing there washing my hands.

"We're from Utah." I smiled at them.

"Oh really? What're you all doing here?" They seemed so interested in us that I kind of chuckled as I began to explain what we were doing here.

"We're actually on our way home. We're a group of performers from the Ogden LDS Institute of Religion. We've been out here touring for the last ten days." It is usually so difficult for me to talk to strangers, but this was different. I had given this same introduction a few other times while on tour, but I was never by myself. When I started feeling awkward there was always someone else to carry the conversation. This time I was alone, but I didn't start getting that uncomfortable feeling.

"What kind of performers? What's the LDS Institute of Religion?" I couldn't believe they were this interested.

"Most of our group are choir members, but we also have a few members of the folk dance team with us. The LDS institute of religion is like a school for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day saints. Many of us are going to college at Weber State University so it's nice when we can go to the institute and take classes to learn more about the Savior. This choir and folk dance team are part of the institute. Have you ever heard of our church?" I had never been so bold about talking about my religion with strangers. 

"No, I don't think we have. So you guys are a choir, huh? Would you be willing to sing a song for us?" 

"Of course! Just let me go get everyone together and talk to our director." 

"Really? Oh that would be so wonderful. We're just going to use the restroom. Don't start without us!"

"Haha, we won't."

I quickly walked out and told the story of meeting these two women in the bathroom to our director. The choir was excited to have one last chance to perform. Someone ran back to the bus to see if there were any copies of The Book of Mormon left to give to these two women. Amazingly, there were exactly two copies left, with only two pass along cards. The choir had begun singing as one of the dancers handed me the books. He excitedly told me that these were the last two copies we had left. A small tear came to my eye. I smiled as I looked down at the books that contained so much truth and light. I walked over to the women after the performance. 

"That was just wonderful! Your choir is so good. Thank you for singing for us, even if it is at a rest stop."

We all laughed.

"It was our pleasure. As I was telling you before, we are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I wanted to give you both a copy of the Book of Mormon. This book is a sacred record that testifies of the love our Savior has for us and the hope that His atonement brings to all of us." I couldn't stop smiling. "I just wanted to testify to you that I know that the things contained in this book are true. That the gospel of Jesus Christ is true and will bring us everlasting joy."

"Oh you are such a sweet girl. Thank you, thank you for sharing that with us. Will you put your name and phone number in our books? You are just so sweet. We are so glad we met you!" They were hugging me and we were all crying at this point. We said our goodbyes and as I was walking back to the bus everyone in the choir came and gave me a hug. Many of them knew I was frustrated that I wasn't able to spread the gospel through singing. 

On the drive to the airport I said another prayer thanking my Father in Heaven for this beautiful tender mercy. I may not have been able to use my singing voice, but He had taught me that I don't always need to sing to use my voice. I was so grateful that I had been given this opportunity. I realized why I was supposed to come on this tour. In addition to meeting Jamie, I needed to meet these two women. At that moment I knew that my prayers were heard and that I was loved. In retrospect, that moment needed to happen. I needed to feel that love and know that He was mindful of me. I think I was given that moment because He knew what was coming.

* * * * * * * * *

I dragged my tired body into the quiet apartment. It was so late and it had been a long day. I opened the door to my bedroom, dumped all of my stuff on the floor, changed into my pajamas, and walked to the bathroom. I switched the light on and closed the door behind me. I looked to the floor and saw it sitting there waiting for me. I had gone ten days without weighing myself. Ten exhausting, frustrating, food filled days. All thoughts of friendship were gone. All thoughts of spiritual experiences were fading. I had to know. I stepped on the scale, lifted my posture, and stared directly at the wall in front of me. It was my ritual. I didn't like to see the electronic numbers jumping all over the place. I stared at the wall a few seconds then took a deep breath. 

"No. No! No! NO!" My body fell to the ground. I was on my knees in front of scale. I wrapped my arms around my head and began rocking back and forth as the sobs overcame me. 

Look at how much you gained! You are so disgusting. You shouldn't have gone on that tour! Nothing good came of it. You just became the disgusting, fat, slob that you are. How could you have let yourself gain eight pounds?! No one gains that much in ten days. Look at how ugly you are. All you did was eat the whole time. You shouldn't have been eating. Everyone saw what a pig you are. Every time you put food in your mouth people thought about how disgusting you are. You don't deserve to eat. Look what happens when you do. You are so ugly! Eight pounds! You are seriously so disgusting. You are worthless.

* * * * * * * * *

The blond young woman sat on the twin bed she'd been assigned. 

"How long have I been here?" she thought to herself as she looked around the room. 

She stared at the space she'd been given for her clothes as the sounds of her roommate getting ready for bed shook her out of her thoughts. The shoes she'd had to buy before coming here caught her attention. No shoe laces. 

"How did I get here?"

She opened her journal to the next available page. She read her entry from the night before before writing the days date at the top of the page. July 24, 2004.

"Ten days. I've been here ten days."

That date used to be a day of fun and celebration for the blond young woman. Her family would gather at her grandparents house to celebrate Pioneer day. The day the pioneers reached the Salt Lake Valley. That didn't even cross the girls mind on this day. It was only used as a day to count her time in this place.

July 24, 2004
I don't even know what to write about. Today was just so weird. My family came. It went better than expected. I got to see Eric, which cheered me up immensely. He is so cute. I haven't been doing too well with my body image. Things are kind of mixed up right now. Triggers are all over. I hate food. Sometimes I just want to throw it at the wall. I got more mail. Jamie wrote me a letter. I love her. She is such a neat person. I miss her so much. She helped me out when I was discouraged. I hope I can see her soon.

The blond girl closed the journal and climbed under her covers.

"How did I get here?" 

Chapter 3: “You become what you think about all day long.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

The blond girl stood still in the middle of the room. She waited as her mother held the pieces of fabric up to her body. This was a process the blond girl was familiar with as her mother, a wonderful seamstress, had often sewn clothing for the blond girl and her sisters. Today was the day that a new jumper was being made for her to wear to church. Her mother even let her help pick out the fabric. 

"Oh no!" her mother exclaimed as she was fitting the pieces on the blond girl. "I must have cut it out wrong."

The blond girl looked to her left side where her mother was fidgeting with the fabric. She instantly noticed what had worried her mother. There was no way that the two pieces were going to fit around her body. Her mother began making suggestions of how to remedy the problem, but she couldn't figure out what to do. 

A relative witnessing the disaster came to try and help, but once she saw the hopelessness of the situation decided to dissuade the blond girls mother from continuing by pointing out the real problem. 

"It's no use Vickie, her hips are just too big."

The problem wasn't the fabric being cut incorrectly, the problem was her ugly body. The blond girl instantly clenched her jaw and blinked several times to try and prevent herself from crying.

February 24, 2004

I can't complain about today. Nothing really interesting happened. Except when Joseph came up to me and told me how good I looked. I didn't know what to say to him because I thought I looked horrible. I've decided I'm going to wear sweatshirts until I get back down to a better size.

It had been a month since starting my diet and I had gone down four pant sizes. I was still overly concerned about the weight I had gained over the weekend as I woke up that morning to start the Power 90 workout. It felt good to exercise and feel like I was burning away all the extra weight. The panic from the night before began to subside once I had finished the workout. Walking into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day, I noticed my reflection and began my usual routine of criticizing and measuring my body. Starting with my stomach and then moving to my hips and thighs, my hands would pull at the fat to see if there was more or less than the day before. I would measure my thighs, upper arms, and wrists by wrapping my hands or fingers around them and see if they felt any smaller. I would stare at myself posing in different directions, hoping that I would somehow be able to see a change in my body that I hadn't noticed before. The panic, that had only a few moments before been lessened, began to return the longer I stood in front of that mirror.

You've gotten bigger! Look at all of the fat rolls! You look awful. How do you even dare face people every day. You shouldn't leave the house today. You look fifty pounds heavier than you did last week. People don't want to look at you. Are your clothes even going to fit today? Even if you get your pants buttoned you'll have fat hanging over the sides because they'll be too tight. You'll look disgusting. Nobody wants to have to look at you. You are so ugly.

I tried to calm my thoughts by telling myself it would be ok because I was going to be able to get back to my normal eating habits and workout more, but the thoughts stuck with me. I weighed myself  with my clothes on, weighed myself with my clothes off, went to the bathroom, weighed myself again, showered, and weighed myself. I wanted to know exactly how much I weighed and what the difference in weight would be after each different circumstance. Each time I weighed myself I hoped and prayed that somehow the number would magically go down. By the time I left the house, I was so worked up and my thoughts so out of control that I felt trapped inside my head, unable to think about anything besides how fat and ugly I was. It was as if a battle was raging inside my head between the thoughts telling me how horrible I looked and the thoughts trying to calm everything down by saying it was ok because I wasn't going to eat as much today. It was the only way I could find the courage to be around people.

Concentrating in class was almost impossible. I tried to get myself to focus on what was being taught, but I could only focus on what was going on in my head. I began distracting myself by trying to calculate how much weight I could lose by the end of the week if I diligently stuck to my 100 calories a day and did Power 90 every morning. I would then begin to think about how many pounds I would have to lose before I could go down another pant size and how long that would take. Before I knew it, I had gone through all of my college classes for the day and had somehow ended up in Choralaires, but I had done nothing but get more and more lost in my own thoughts.

"ShaRee, you are looking so great!"

Choralaires had finished and I walked up to Chris to say hi. I was caught off guard by the comment from Joseph. He and Chris were good friends, but he had never really said anything to me. I spent most of my time in that class keeping to myself and trying to avoid bringing attention to myself. I didn't even know he really knew my name until he gave me this compliment.

"Um, thanks." I replied with an embarrassed smile.

I had never been good at accepting compliments. This day was especially difficult because I knew he had to be making fun of me. I had thoroughly inspected my body that morning and knew that I did not look good.

"Seriously, you look amazing!"

I gave a nervous laugh and thanked him again. I kept thinking that hopefully I would be able to lose ten pounds by the following week. It was such a foreign feeling to have someone give me a compliment about how good I looked, but I found that it was a feeling that was much more enjoyable than I had anticipated.  It was enough of a good moment to get me out of my head. I went home, went to the bathroom, weighed myself with my clothes on, weighed myself with my clothes off, got dressed and fixed a small serving of plain, steamed broccoli.

The next week was the same routine: wake up at 5:00, do Power 90, measure and criticize my body, the thoughts begin, go to the bathroom, weigh myself with clothes on and off, shower, weigh myself, go to school, not learn a thing because I was so focused on losing weight and how awful I looked, go home, go to the bathroom, weigh myself, eat a small serving of vegetables or black beans, weigh myself, lie on my bed and think about losing weight until the day was over, pray that I would lose more weight, and go to bed. It's all I could get myself to do. The days started running together.



"I'm just going to make an appointment for you at the counseling center. It's not a big deal. I just think it would be good for you to have someone help you figure out if going into music is what you really want to do."

Dr. Joines had become worried about me after I called myself stupid when I was unable to understand or answer a question in my music theory class.

"Chris, I don't want to go to therapy!"

"I know, but maybe this will actually be a good thing."

I had gone to Dr. Joines' office at his request where he spoke about his concern for me. He noticed I hadn't been myself lately and calling myself stupid had been frustrating for him to hear. He had lectured me about the need to have more confidence in myself and my abilities.

"He's not wrong. I've been telling you the same thing for a while now." Chris gave me a look of concern, but also showed slight amusement at how angry I was over the thought of going to therapy.

"I know I need more confidence, but just telling me to get more confidence isn't going to make that happen. And why would going to therapy be a good thing? Isn't therapy for crazy people?!"

"Yes, but it's also for people who just need to talk through problems. ShaRee, I think that you've maybe been going overboard with the dieting and exercising. You've lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time. It might be good to just talk with a therapist about it and see what he thinks."

"What are you saying? That you think I have some sort of an eating disorder?" I laughed. I knew he was joking. People with eating disorders didn't look like me. I was still so huge. "Yeah right. Like that's possible! I'm still eating and I haven't lost that much weight."

I had gone down two more pant sizes and had gone from eating 100 calories a day to eating a piece of grilled chicken every two days.  I was also doing the workout DVD twice a day.

"I don't want to go! I'm not going. I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to him."

"I'll come with you. I really feel like you need to go. I want you to go. Let's just see what he has to say about your eating." Chris said, all amusement gone from his face.


The counseling center at the college was smaller than I had expected. Chris led the way and walked with me to the reception desk. The receptionist was pleasant as I explained about this being my first time in. After completing the necessary paperwork, I sat nervously waiting for the appointment to begin. I was contemplating running out of the room when a man walked around the corner and called my name. I apprehensively stood and gave a look to Chris to let him know that I still didn't want to be doing this. I followed the man back to his office where he motioned for me to sit down.

"So, what made you decide to come in today?"

Dr. Johnson was a handsome man and as we started the conversation he gave me a pleasant smile.

"Um, well, one of my teachers wants me to talk to someone about making sure that my life is heading in a direction that will make me happy and my friend wants me to talk to someone because he's worried about my eating habits."

He gave me a confused look. "Why does everyone else want you to be doing these things?"

I shrugged. My foot was constantly shaking. I didn't know what to think, do, or say.

"Well, tell me about your eating."

I began to explain to him about the challenge and how I had started to lose weight. He would abruptly cut me off and ask a question here or there and then let me continue. The feeling in the room started to feel strange and I could feel myself shutting down the longer we talked.

"Do you just need attention?" he impatiently asked.

"What?"

"Do you need attention? Is that why you're doing this?" He was giving me a look like he had caught me in my scheme.

"What? No! I'm not someone who likes a lot of attention on them. I'll admit that some of the comments about how good I look or praise about how hard I must be working to lose all the weight makes me feel good, but I'm just trying to lose weight. That's all."

He immediately popped up and grabbed a large book off a shelf and flipped to a page.

"Is this what you want to look like?"

He almost sounded angry as he flipped the book around to show me a picture of an emaciated woman dressed in nothing but her underwear. She had a vacant look on her face, like she wasn't aware of her surroundings. I could see every bone on her body and noticed the way her cheeks and eyes sunk inward. Nothing about her frail body was what I was trying to achieve by losing weight.

"No, of course I....."

"Well, that's what you will look like if you keep doing this!" he emphatically stated, cutting me off as he threw the book on his desk and moved to a different chair. "Who's the guy that was sitting with you in the waiting area?"

"His name is Chris. He's a friend." I felt defeated. I wanted to get out of the room more than anything.

"I want to ask him some questions. Do I have your permission to invite him in?"

I gave him a questioning glance and then slowly nodded my head. Why did he need to ask Chris questions? He left the room and I sat in disbelief and confusion. I felt like the conversation had taken off and gotten out of hand without me actually being involved or included in it. Questions had been asked and accusations hurled at me before I even knew how to adequately explain myself. I began to worry that I was even more of a horrible person than I had thought. Was I really the awful person he was accusing me of being? Was I just some stupid girl needing attention? I knew I hated attention. I was struggling with school and I really wanted to lose weight and succeed at my challenge, but I didn't feel like I was trying to get people to notice me by doing it. I didn't know what was happening and before I could really figure anything out, Dr. Johnson was back with Chris close behind. As he interrogated Chris, I stared at the floor and listened to what was being asked and said about me. I didn't know how to react to anything and wondered why so many people continued therapy when it felt more like a trial. Chris answered the questions the same way that I answered them and then proceeded to add why he was worried about me. Dr. Johnson told him not to worry. I didn't have an eating disorder, but there were some things that he wanted to work on with me. I was ushered out of the room, had the next weeks appointment scheduled, and was on my way back to the apartment with Chris before I started to feel like I could speak again. We both started to laugh as Chris pointed out how blunt Dr. Johnson had been.

"At least we know that I don't have an eating disorder. I told you there was nothing wrong with the way I've been eating."

The more we discussed the session and joked about the way in which the conversation had gotten so strange so quickly, the better I felt. I was just glad that I had another person there to witness it and share in the experience.

Everyone still thinks you're so fat. You need to lose more weight. Look at how big you are. You aren't getting any smaller. You're never going to look good. Why don't you try harder. You're so lazy. Do you see all the fat rolls?! Look at how many there are! You need to find a way to get rid of them. You are so fat. The only thing people see when they look at you is your fat body. You need to lose the weight faster. The only way to feel better is to lose the weight. You are so ugly. No one can stand to look at you. 

"What have you been doing? You're starting to look so good! You've inspired me to start trying to get in shape."

See, they only think you are worth looking at when you are losing weight. They all thought you were so hideous and disgusting, but when you lose weight they think you aren't completely worthless. You can't be this big anymore. You have to lose weight. You are only worth anything if you can get smaller. You aren't pretty unless you are thin. Why are you still overweight?! It doesn't look like you are any thinner. You need to lose two pounds by tomorrow. Why aren't you fixing this fast enough? You are so gross. Why can't you be prettier?

My days were measured by weigh-ins and work outs. Life stopped being experiences. It was images and comments. It was reactions and thoughts. The battle inside my head was where I spent most of my energy and time.

Why aren't you losing the weight faster!? You are so ugly. Don't you see how disgusting you are?

It's ok. I'll only have a piece of chicken once a week. If I only eat that it'll be ok. I'm only going to have one piece of chicken a week. I'll lose more weight that way. It'll be ok.

"What bra size do you wear?"

I looked at him unable to answer. I could feel myself squirming. "I......"

"Come stand in front of me. I need to see how your clothes are fitting on you to see how much weight you've lost."

So many questions were going through my mind. Was this necessary? Did he not believe me when I told him how much weight I'd lost last week? I stood in the middle of the room and he moved his chair over until he was sitting in front of me.

"What bra size do you wear?"

I reluctantly answered the personal question.

"Have you gone down a cup size at all?"

Where was this going? Was this really how therapy worked? I answered all of his questions and then began following his instructions about pulling my shirt tight around my body or pulling my loose jeans away from my body. I stared at the wall as Dr. Johnson gazed at me and examined my body.

He's probably thinking how disgusting you look. He hates you and thinks you are just some stupid teenager looking for attention. He thinks you look fat and need to lose weight. Why did you even come back to see him? He knows you're a bad person. He can see how horrible you are. He only wants to see your body so he can tell you how ugly you are.

I snapped out of my thoughts as he pulled the waist of my jeans tight around my hips. My face scrunched into a look of discomfort as I felt his hands around my ribs pulling my shirt tight and revealing my body shape.

"It looks like you've lost weight since last week. You know what? You should get out more and be around people. Why don't you go to the gym on campus? Maybe do a little weight training."

He only wants you to go the gym because you need to lose more weight. He can see how big you are and can feel how fat you are. You need to work harder. He thinks you're so lazy. You need to work out more. You're still eating too much. Don't you feel disgusting when you eat? Everyone else thinks you're so disgusting. 

In addition to doing the exercise video twice a day, I was now going to the gym for an hour or more a day. Chris would often go with me and began helping me with weight training.

"ShaRee, is there something going on that is making it harder for you to sing? You just seem like you don't have a lot of energy."

"I've just been exhausted from school. I'll try and rest more."

My voice teacher had started to notice that my voice was struggling. I gave her my excuse, but the truth was that when I wasn't obsessing about exercise, weight, and eating, I was sleeping. I had even started sleeping through classes. When I would come home from school in the afternoon, I would weigh myself and then stumble to my bedroom and collapse on the bed. I was so tired all the time and couldn't get enough sleep.

I need to start eating before voice lessons so I have more energy.

You can't have more than the piece of chicken a week. You will gain weight and become even uglier than you are now. You are such a pig. Why would you want to eat so much? You can't be serious about eating more. You look awful. Do you want to be this ugly your whole life? You still have so much weight to lose. 

It's ok. I'll only eat an apple. I'll stop having chicken. It's too fattening. I'll eat an apple before I have to sing. That way I'll have energy to sing, but I can still lose weight. An apple is better anyway. It's healthier than the piece of chicken. 

"Losing weight is a good thing, just make sure that you are eating the right things and exercising. You know, even jogging in place for fifteen minutes can make all the difference. You could even try doing simple exercises like crunches and sit-ups or squats every night. Just that little bit is so healthy." The well meaning teacher was trying to encourage me to lose weight in a healthy way, but all I could focus on was that I needed to lose weight.

He thinks you're so fat and wants you to lose weight. It doesn't even look like you're working out. You are still so fat. You need to do more. Everyone can still see how ugly you are. Why can't you do anything right? You aren't working hard enough and everyone can tell. You are so fat and lazy. You should work out more. You are so ugly.

I'll start jogging for fifteen minutes every night. I'll do 300 crunches every night in addition to the 200 I've been doing with the DVD. I'll add some pilates, squats, leg lifts. I'll do it every night. It'll be ok. I'll work harder. I have to work harder. I'll do more. It'll be ok.

Dr. Johnson continued to measure me by pulling my clothes tight around my thighs, hips, waists, arms, and bust. Every week I would stand in front of him as he inspected my body nearly as thoroughly as I inspected it each day. It became a motivator for me to push myself harder to lose weight. I didn't want to go in there and have him tell me I didn't look like I'd lost any weight.

So many people kept giving me compliments on how good I looked not knowing that with each comment came a flood of negative thoughts telling me how I was worthless and ugly. I was receiving more attention from people, but I was secluding myself more than I ever had in my life. I tried convincing myself that I was looking better than I ever had, but I became increasingly more self conscious of the way I looked.

My voice was struggling, my grades were slipping, I slept all the time. Each day was the same schedule of working out, weighing myself 15-20 times, obsessively thinking about food while being terrified to eat any of it, and getting further lost in a sea of negative thoughts and mental abuse. The weight continued to drop as those days turned into weeks, weeks into months.


The blond young woman lay in her bed unable to fall asleep. This was unusual for her as she had been spending much of her spare time being exhausted and finding any free minute she could spare to sleep. She pulled her covers up around her shivering body and rolled onto her stomach. She winced and tried to adjust her body as the pain from her hip bones pushing against the mattress caught her off guard. A smile spread across her face at the thought of bones showing instead of fat. Several hours passed with the blond young woman tossing and turning, thinking about how she could lose more weight and the possibility of becoming thin and beautiful. The smile faded as her thoughts took over. Now lying on her side, legs pulled up close to her chest, the blond young woman stared into the dark room and whispered, "When will I stop being ugly." 

Chapter 2: “Your mind can be either your prison or your palace."― Bernard Kelvin Clive, Your Dreams Will Not Die

"You are wearing the wrong type of green!"

The blond girl standing near her teacher's desk hadn't expected the comment. She looked down at her clothing trying to make sense of why she was being mocked. Then she looked at the tall, slender girl in her first grade class who had made the comment. Her hair was perfectly done, without a single strand out of place. Her clothing had been perfectly coordinated to celebrate the holiday without receiving a pinch. She was more well liked than the blond girl with the crooked smile and was considerably more beautiful. 

"Teacher, ShaRee is wearing the wrong color of green," the popular girl exclaimed to the teacher with a laugh.

The blond girl examined her own clothing again. In preparation for the day she had been dressed in the only green clothes she owned, a pair of hunter green sweats with a mismatched green shirt. She looked around the room and, in that moment, realized that she wasn't like the other girls. There was something different about her. She hung her head to look at the floor. The humiliation over her embarrassing clothing choice had been hurtful, but the pain of what she had realized about herself as she tried to grasp the situation had made her wish she could disappear. She bit back tears as she began to understand why she was different from the other girls: she was bigger than all of them and she was ugly.

My hand flew to the alarm clock the second it began it's relentless beeping. I had always been a light sleeper as well as an early riser, but I had noticed that it was becoming increasingly more difficult to get out of bed. Second semester had started to be more stressful than I had anticipated. In addition to my five music classes, I was also taking english and history. We were only a few weeks into the new semester and I had already started questioning whether I was going to survive or not. 

I had enjoyed my choir class during the fall, but this new semester had changed my feelings. The professor who usually conducted the choir had gone on sabbatical and we were now having to get used to a new conductors style. Not many of us were loving the new change. I was glad that I had auditioned for Choralaires, the LDS institute choir. It gave me a fun musical atmosphere to break up the monotony of college classes and the disappointment from concert choir. I had initially felt intimidated to be in a choir where so many people had already spent a semester singing together, if not longer. I came into the choir in the middle of the year and only knew one other person. Chris had excitedly introduced me to all of his friends during our first rehearsal, but I had felt so uncomfortable and worried that I wouldn't ever fit in with their group. He was still really good to try and include me and had started spending more time at my apartment than he had before. 

"I wonder how much weight you've lost." 

We spent a lot of our time together discussing my weight and what foods I could or couldn't eat. My new pants had started to become baggy and my excitement continued to grow.

"I don't know how much I've lost, but look at this!" I said as I walked out of my room wearing my old pants. They were super big on me. I started to laugh as I pulled the waste of the jeans away from my stomach like they do in the weight loss commercials.

"Holy buckets! That's awesome!" he laughed. "You should buy a scale so that you can actually see how much you're losing."

I hadn't really considered buying a scale. I had never weighed myself before, because I already knew that I was huge. I didn't need a scale to tell me that. I also didn't want to admit to other people that I was trying to lose weight. I was simply seeing how long I could go on my challenge that had gone from "no junk food" to "don't eat anything with more than five grams of fat and three grams of sugar." The challenge was turning out to be successful and I had to admit that losing the weight felt good. Later that day I came home with my new scale and a full length mirror, both to help motivate me on my challenge, that had now officially turned into a diet. 

As January came to a close, I began to notice small changes not only in myself, but also with my friendships. I became enthusiastic about cooking for other people. I had mostly only ever cooked out of necessity, but for some reason I had a new found fascination for recipes and cooking for others. I had planned a birthday dinner, complete with cake, for my sweet roommate Jill. When I couldn't get the frosting just right I became infuriated, threw the whole cake in the sink, and stormed out of the apartment. I don't know why I was so angry. 

Tori also started treating me differently since I started the challenge. 

"You need to get more girly looking clothes. You're such a tomboy."

I had decided she was right, but not until after feeling extremely embarrassed and hurt over having been ridiculed over my wardrobe. I didn't have a ton of selection for clothes because of my size, but once I started to lose weight, I made sure to start buying tops that were brighter and more feminine in style. 

"Look at your eyebrows! You need to go get them waxed!"

That very day I went to get my eyebrows waxed. I tried to not make a big deal out of it, but she made a point to laugh about it and point it out to everyone who came to visit. We weren't talking with each other as much as we used to and as I became closer friends with Chris, she also started finding her own group of friends. I was so hurt by the comments and looks she kept giving me. That hurt eventually turned into anger. Every time I noticed her eating a meal, I began to feel very prideful knowing that I had more will power than her. We were growing farther apart by the minute.

"I am just concerned about what I'm supposed to do at Eric's blessing. It's easy up here to follow the rules, but I don't think I'll be able to keep the rules when I'm in Fillmore. What should I do?"

I had actually considered missing my nephew's baby blessing. The stress I was having over what to eat when I was in Fillmore was so consuming that it was easier for me to miss such a huge family occasion. I was terrified that I was going to gain back all the weight I had just lost. 

"I think we should maybe change some things so that you can have more variety of food. What if we made the rules more about calories than about fat and sugar?" Chris was more knowledgable about nutrition than I was. I felt lucky to have him helping me.

"Ok, that sounds good. Will I still be able to lose weight if we change the rules? I really want to keep losing weight." I said, almost in desperation.

"Yes, of course. We'll come up with something that'll work. What if we just limit your caloric intake to 100 calories a day? We can just print off a list of foods you can eat and the quantities you can have. You should still lose weight fairly quickly that way."

So we found a list of foods and how much I could eat. I studied the list and memorized as much as I could. When I went to Fillmore for the weekend, everyone was so surprised at how great I was looking. I received so much praise for how much weight I had been losing and people began to ask what I had been doing. It was so foreign to me. I had never been given positive attention for my looks. I didn't quite know how to respond. 

The weekend didn't go as well as I had hoped. My mom began to be concerned that I was being too strict, but I assured her that everything was fine. I wasn't able to stay within my caloric limit, which caused me to panic. I started feeling restless as the thoughts in my head went out of control. By Sunday, I was such a nervous wreck that I decided there was no way that I was going to the family dinner after church. My mom wanted me to at least eat something before I left. I began eating the slice of ham my mother placed in front of me, making my eyes blink away the tears before she could notice. I packed up my bags and raced back to Ogden as fast as I could.

February 23, 2004

This weekend my Nephew got blessed. He is so cute. I love him so much. The bad thing is that I gained a little weight while I was home, but I hope I can be back to where I was by the end of this week. Chris is helping me out so much. He even gave me an exercise program.

That night I cried as I climbed on the scale and saw that I had gained weight. I paced back and forth trying to figure out what I could do to lose the weight faster. I was thankful that Chris had given me his Power 90 DVD, but that wasn't going to help me as quickly as I needed. The weight needed to be gone.

I went to my room and stood in front of the mirror I had purchased. I examined how my clothes fit and worried that they looked tighter on me. The thoughts began. I undressed and proceeded to inspect my body, criticizing myself every step of the way. The thoughts were louder. I grabbed fat rolls to measure how much bigger they had gotten. Thoughts racing. I stepped away from the mirror and allowed the tears to roll down my cheek as I put on my pajamas. I walked back over to the mirror and sat in front of it. The tears turned into sobs as the thoughts that began when I was so young continued to scream at me.

You are so ugly and fat! Why are you so ugly? Why can't you fix it? Do you see how ugly you are? Look at how fat you are. You are so ugly and fat. Everyone thinks that you are the ugliest person. No one likes you because you are so ugly. You are gross. No one should have to look at you. How can you live like that? There is so much fat everywhere! You are ugly.

Over and over in my head for hours. Each time I looked in the mirror I hoped that the reflection would somehow have changed since the last time I had stopped crying long enough to look in the mirror. How could I have eaten so much food? I had gained weight and made myself so fat. I was so ugly.

That night I prayed for only one thing.

"Heavenly Father, please help me to lose weight. I need to lose more weight. Please help me. Please."

Chapter 1: “I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand the situation.” ― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

Snow was still falling from the dark January sky as I took the exit to get onto highway 89. This light snow storm was nothing compared to the blizzard I had voluntarily driven through to get home at the end of fall semester. I had been anxious to get back to Fillmore after the semester and share all of my exciting adventures from my first semester of college and no blizzard warning was going to keep me from doing just that. As I got closer to Ogden, I laughed to myself about the ridiculousness of my choice. After Christmas break, I was more excited to get back to my apartment than I had been to get to my parents house a few weeks before. During the two and half hour drive I had spent most of my time reflecting on everything that had happened since starting school. I had made so many new friends who helped me break out of the shell I had built around myself growing up, my nephew was born and had me wrapped around his little finger, and I had passed all of my classes. All in all, my first semester of college had been a success. I also thought of how it had been so fun to discover who I was outside of the small town life I had known growing up. It had maybe been a little too fun and I spent way more time socializing than studying and working hard in school. Because of this I had quickly made my goals for 2004: Work harder. Be a better student. Practice more. Of course, I still had a couple of weeks left before spring semester started and I intended on making the most of my social life before the hard work needed to begin.

I knew when I returned to the apartment that I would be the only one there for a day or two, but I was ok to have the time to unpack and get myself organized before life started again. It was quiet and my thoughts began to replay a conversation with a friend that had happened recently.

"ShaRee, how do you really feel about yourself?"

Chris was five years older than me and when we had first met I wasn't very impressed with him. He had known and been friends with the roommates I moved in with and I remember feeling uncomfortable every time I was around him. However, the more I got to know him my opinion quickly changed and we had become quite close. I now considered him one of my best friends and was grateful that first impressions can change.

I was confused after he asked me this question and my thoughts raced to figure out why he had asked it. I had spent most of my life hiding those feelings from others behind laughter and smiles. Where did this line of questioning come from? In those few seconds I tried to decide if this was a question I wanted to answer honestly or find a way to avoid. I landed on a choice and gave my reluctant response.

"I don't like myself at all. I've never liked myself."

There were only a small number of people who had ever heard my true opinion of myself, but I don't know that I had ever so bluntly stated it. So many feelings rushed through me after I uttered those two sentences. Thoughts were racing. The silence I had created was becoming unbearable.

"Chris, what did you think about me when you first saw me?"

"I don't know, I thought you were pretty cute. ShaRee, I'm sorry you don't feel good about yourself. Can I give you a hug before you go?"

I shook myself out of the memory and went back to unpacking. I was confused by the whole conversation, but I tried not to dwell on it. We had made plans to watch a movie later that night. We always had so much fun whenever we got together. He was the one who probably taught me the most about how to be spontaneous and to get outside of my comfort zone. I expected this night to be no different.

When Chris arrived it was the usual back and forth that happened whenever we were together. Random jokes and laughter. We decided to watch The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Both of us had read and owned all the books in the LOTR trilogy and were huge fans. The movie had recently come out on DVD and of course we had to watch it even though both of us had seen it multiple times already. As we came to the scene where Arwen comes to the rescue of the recently injured Frodo, Chris made an interesting comment.

"I don't find Liv Tyler attractive at all! In fact, I think she is probably the ugliest person I've ever seen."

I laughed thinking that he was joking. I happen to think that she is a gorgeous woman. He had to be joking. Right? I realized by his reaction that he was, in fact, being serious. I thought back to a game Chris used to play with two of my other roommates. When we would go anywhere they would rate strangers on a scale of 1-10 based on their appearance. Ten, of course, being incredibly attractive and one......well, you get the idea. There was even a day where we were driving somewhere on the freeway and they would hold up signs to the window indicating the rating they had given people in other cars.

"So what would you rate her on your scale?"

Chris thought for only a second and replied, "Four. I would give her a solid four."

I contemplated this rating. He stated that she was the ugliest person and had still given her a four. Did this mean that four was the actual lowest rating? This rating system was different. Since the invention of this "game" I had always wondered if any of them had ever rated me. I had always avoided asking, because I figured I already knew the answer. But he had shown me that he cared about my feelings because of our conversation a month before and he had told me that I was pretty cute. All of this somehow gave me hope that I was safe to ask him.

"Ok, so Liv Tyler, the ugliest person you've ever seen, gets a four. What would you rate me?" I tried to make it sound as innocent and light hearted as I could.

"I'd rate you a five."

The next few minutes were a blur. The ugliest person he's ever seen is a four and I was just rated a five. I'm only one rating better than the ugliest person. So many emotions overcame me. So many thoughts flooded my mind, none of which were new to me. They had been constant companions to me since I was six years old. I became lost in them as the movie played on and before I knew it the movie was over. Chris had fallen asleep on the couch and I was still playing through what had happened in my head and now what I was thinking and feeling. I grabbed my journal and started to write, though I kept my entry generic and happy. In my head my thoughts just kept repeating the same things.

Over and over in my head these thoughts were racing. My brain was stuck on them for the whole movie, while I was writing my journal entry, and well into the early hours of the morning. These thoughts and feelings were very familiar to me, but something happened that night that caused these thoughts to go crazy and my emotions to overwhelm me. Maybe I just needed some sleep.


A few days later things were looking better again. One of my new roommates, Tori, moved in and I was excited to see her. She and another friend, whom I had known in high school, were going to take the empty room left by two of my roommates after they moved out in December. I had met Tori during our first semester as music students. She was also a voice major and was in quite a few of my classes. I was jealous of her beautiful red hair and the confidence with which she carried herself. She had such an infectious laugh and made friends very easily. We had become friends fairly quickly and helped each other through the stress of freshmen year.

Once she had her stuff moved in we sat in her room laughing and munching on candy leftover from Christmas. She began expressing the need to maybe lose a few pounds and suggested that we take on a challenge to see who could go the longest without junk food. We both found ourselves laughing at the thought as we were currently shoveling red and green M&M's into our mouths. However, I found this to be a challenge that I was interested in and we agreed to start the next day.

It was surprisingly easy to stay away from candy and junk food. I had thought it would be more difficult for me than it was. I knew better than to think that it would be this easy the whole time. I was, after all, only on day one. I was in my room putting laundry away when I heard the front door open and saw Tori walk in eating junk food. She saw me as she was mid bite. We just looked at each other and started laughing our heads off.

"You didn't even make it one day?!"

"I know!! You win! I just couldn't resist."

We talked and laughed about it for a few minutes. The more I thought about it though, I decided to keep going. I just wanted to see how long I could actually do it.

I had successfully survived my first week of spring semester. I didn't really like how some of my classes had changed from first semester, but I was pushing through the stress. I had also managed to make it into the Ogden LDS Institute Choir and had been excited to start. Chris had convinced me to audition, as he was also in the choir. I figured it would give me a nice break from my other stressful music classes. I had also been doing really well with my "no junk food" challenge. However, I did find myself questioning whether certain foods were considered junk food or not. I didn't want to accidentally fail the challenge. I had expressed these concerns with Chris. I think he was just as interested to see how long I would last, so he found a way to help me.

January 18, 2004 

Chris decided to make rules for me so that I wouldn't feel like I was cheating all the time. He said I can't eat anything with more than five grams of fat and three grams of sugar. Except for fruits and vegetables. So I went through my cupboard and tried to get rid of everything that was against the rules. I basically can't eat anything.

I was surprised at how bad all the food I had been putting into my body was. I even got rid of some homemade jam my mother had given me. My roommates and Chris claimed everything I couldn't eat. It was almost liberating to get rid of some of the food. Like I was accomplishing something.

That weekend my mom came to visit me and to take me shopping. I was so happy to see her. I had been looking forward to her visit all week. Sometimes a girl just needs her mom. We had so much fun with each other. She took me shopping and we were both thrilled to find that the pant size that I usually fit into was now too big for me. She asked me what I had been doing and I explained the challenge that Tori and I had started. She laughed as I told her about Tori's inability to hold out for even 24 hours. I normally loathe shopping, but being able to try on smaller clothes had me so excited that I didn't want to stop. It was a rare experience for both of us.

That night I was putting all my new clothes away and smiled at how awesome it felt to be in a smaller pant size. It also felt amazing to receive praise on the fact that I had lost some weight. I had spent my whole life being criticized for my weight and now I was getting positive attention for losing weight. It had only been two weeks since starting the challenge and it was crazy how fast I was able to go down a size. It had been a good day.

I began getting ready for bed. When I went to the bathroom I looked at myself in the mirror hoping to see that I could tell I had lost weight. I became discouraged to find that I looked the same as my reflection had always shown me. I looked at myself for a long time in that mirror
when the thoughts began racing again. They just kept going and going. I let out a sigh, turned off the bathroom light, and went to bed.

This is where my story begins.

 

“Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.” ― Leo Tolstoy

Author's note: This post is mostly to help me wrap my brain around the end of another chapter, explore the lessons I learned,  and say farewell to all the characters who appeared in said chapter. It has a different feel than my other posts and I hope you can forgive me for that, but it was something I needed to write down. 

Three years ago I was living in Arizona contemplating what to do with my life. I had just finished a course in phlebotomy, yet was still unable to find a job. I was to the point where something needed to change but I wasn't sure what that change needed to be. One night, unable to sleep, I thought about what I really wanted to do. I suddenly felt like moving back to my hometown of Fillmore was my next step. I considered what I needed to do once I got there. I had always wanted to do work with the youth, especially with regards to the performing arts, but I wasn't sure, exactly, how to go about doing it. I stared up at the ceiling and let my thoughts roll around in my head until I could no longer take the chaos. I knelt down, prayed about what I was supposed to do, and waited for the answer.

In the hour that followed I received some pretty awesome guidance and became excited at the answers I had received. I knew I wanted to teach voice lessons. After that prayer I suddenly began to see what I was really supposed to do. Teach anyone who has the desire to learn music. I also knew that I wanted to start directing musicals again. I received the same thought. Teach and create opportunities for anyone who has the desire to learn. It was strange how much that thought just kept coming to my mind. I wanted to make sure I understood what that meant and as I thought, I knew what it meant to me. There are people who have such a strong desire to learn music or how to perform, though they are sometimes overlooked because they aren't as talented as so-and-so or they can't perform as well as what's-his-face. I knew that these thoughts were coming to me for a reason, and I made the choice that second that I was going to do my best to encourage all the youth I came in contact with to understand that they could improve and have opportunities as long as they were willing to work. That was my purpose. I felt strongly that I had to move to Fillmore for a reason and changing lives was that very reason! (Say that last sentence as dramatically and with as much conviction as you can possibly muster. Trust me, it adds to the rest of the story.)

Here I am, having experienced some of the most challenging years of my life, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry at the memory of that night. I think of all the wonderful things that have happened to me: pulling off some amazing musicals with some of the best students in the world, being called to direct the stake youth choir and witnessing the miracles that came with that calling, and seeing some of my private voice students work hard and make some incredible improvements. Each one of these achievements makes me happy to think about. Not because of what I accomplished, but because of the people I was able to work with. The small moments of success in each of their lives. That spark in their eye and the smile on their face when they learned difficult music or a challenging technique. The bond that I have with those who took these journeys with me. The friendships made! So many wonderful memories. 

Yet each one of those memories is also accompanied by the most horrible moments in my life: the people who criticized every choice I made as I directed the musicals, the choir member who took every opportunity to let others know how little they respected me and thought I didn't know what I was doing, and the students who struggled and couldn't quite get past their personal hurdles. The frustration in the eyes of those who worked their hardest, but still had a hard time making improvements. The hurt from those who didn't get cast as the character they so desperately wanted. The anguish from losing friends. The negative comments about my talent, about the talent of my students, about how wrong I was to give opportunities to those who weren't as naturally talented. The negative comments about how I directed choirs and musicals, about how I played the piano, about the music I picked. The criticisms about my priorities, the comments, jokes, and rumors about my sexual orientation. (Which were super hurtful and completely untrue. This woman is attracted to MEN.) The mean and hurtful comments to my students and the discouragement they felt from those who should have been giving them encouragement. It's been an emotional ride, to say the least. 

Sometimes it's hard for me to remember the good through all of the hurt I feel. I have spent the last year healing, and now that I have had time, I can look back and realize what was happening. That night three years ago, I was so focused on what I was supposed to do as far as working with the youth that I misunderstood my reason for moving here. There are those who come to me and tell me how much my being here has helped them. I love those moments. I cherish those moments. Those moments are the moments that warm my heart and let me know that I have made a difference in the world. That my being here wasn't a complete waste of time. That I am a good person who is capable of doing good to others. That I am capable of loving and being loved. Because of those moments I know that part of what I thought that night was correct: I needed to move to Fillmore. I was supposed to help others and be a teacher. I was supposed to change lives. I just forgot to count myself as one of those lives that needed changing.

I'm one of those delusional people that believes everything happens for a reason. There is a purpose to everything. I honestly think that I was guided to Fillmore because I needed to learn, to change, and to grow. In my first post I talked about how trials aren't necessarily a bad thing. I wrote that because I finally understood. It is because of those trials that I was able to change. I came here with the intention of staying. I wanted to open my own theatre and do so many great things for the people of Fillmore. The intentions of my Father in Heaven were much different. I have come to the end of my time in this small community and I am a completely different woman than the day I moved back. I am older. I have thicker skin. I am more wise. I am more patient. I am more reserved. I have bigger dreams. I am more independent. I am more grateful. I am more cautious. I am more daring. I am better prepared for the obstacles I am about to face. I am ready to discover the woman I was meant to become. 

I look at that list and realize that some of those changes may seem confusing, or that maybe they are changes that aren't necessarily good for me, but I know that I am a better person today because I changed and that there are definitely more changes to come. Change simultaneously excites and terrifies me, but I know it is necessary. I haven't always been willing to embrace change, but I think the biggest lesson that I have learned from the last three years is to be ever changing. Change doesn't mean that we have to completely give up the person we've come to know, just to add to and become the person we are meant to be. 

Farewell to Fillmore

Tonight I pack. In a few days I will move on to the next chapter of my life. I will face new challenges, discover new wonders, and inevitably change again. But, before I end this chapter I want to say thank you. Good and bad, my time here was exactly what I needed. Whether my time with you was one of joy and happiness or frustration and hurt, you were all meant to be in my life. And for that I am grateful. You have all played a vital role in my life, and I can't thank you enough. You have changed me and helped me find a way to discover old dreams and find new passions. I hope the best for this wonderful community of ours. Thank you for the support, the love, the obstacles, the laughter, the tears, and the sunsets. You all deserve happiness and I hope you find it. And with that, goodbye.

Stay tuned for my next chapter! It's bound to be exciting and entertaining. 

“Before a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way." - Paulo Coelho

I remember as a young girl knowing exactly what my dreams were. I would fall asleep every night thinking of all the wonderful things that I could do, if I could just make my dreams come true. The crazy thing is, I never dared tell anyone. I was convinced that as soon as I did I would hear all the lectures about how my dreams weren't realistic. So I kept it to myself. 

It was always kind of funny going to parent teacher conferences every year. Part of the conference included writing down career goals so that we could make a plan. Mr. G would pull out the paper and ask me to write down what career I would like to work toward. I would always look at my dad and my advisor and say, "I don't know." Really though, I knew exactly what my career goals were and there was no way I was going to have anyone tell me to rethink. So, I just kept saying, "I don't know" and my dad and Mr. G would make some jokes and we would finally put down some random profession that we could all laugh about. I distinctly remember putting down horticulture one year. I believe that suggestion came from Dad. Sometimes I wish I still had that paper just for laughs. There honestly was something different written down every year. 

Senior year. The time for keeping my secret had come to an end. In order to start my journey I needed to get into college and into the program that would help me. I settled on a school and began the application process. I don't particularly remember caring so much which school had the best program I was looking for, I mostly wanted to start fresh. Somewhere I knew that wouldn't have a ton of people from my high school. Not because I disliked them, I just knew that it was time for me to become the person I always wanted to be and I needed room to do that free from the person I had been in high school. I chose Weber State University, a lovely school in Ogden Utah where I was certain that no one else would be going. I was accepted and even received a scholarship into the program I desired. The preparation for school was smooth sailing and I considered that a good sign for the plans I had spent many hours obsessing over since before I was in high school. I was on my way.

The first day of college. I am a worrier so there had been an excessive amount of anxiety the week before that fateful first day. I'm not one to ask a lot of questions and I get really embarrassed asking for help. Luckily I ended up with a roommate who was in the same major as myself and she was very kind to share her wisdom. Even going so far as to recommend teachers and show me where my first class was located. Thank heavens for the outgoing personalities in the world! Halfway through my morning schedule was my First Year Experience class. Everyone on campus was required to take this class. However, my department had it's own class because of the demands to complete the major. I remember sitting in that room feeling simultaneously excited to be where I was and terrified that I didn't belong. The department head taught this class and as he walked in I knew I needed to listen to every word he said. I knew what my dreams were and this class was hopefully going to give me an overview of how best to make it through the program. As he gave the usual syllabus lecture I paid very close attention, hoping not to miss something vital to my future. (I later fell into the habit of letting my mind wander during these lectures. Turns out they all sound the same after a while. No matter what the class.) He began talking about all that was expected of us during our time in the program, but more importantly he began giving us insight into what the future would hold for us in our desired field. He began by talking to those in our program who belonged to a different subset of our major. When he had finished with their overview he turned his attention to my program and I waited with much anticipation.

"How many of you are performance majors?"

I think back on the moment he asked this question often. This is the moment where things changed for me. This moment and the five minutes that followed set me on a path I did not intend to go down.

"How many of you are performance majors?"

I mustered all the courage I could find and timidly raised my hand. This was the first time that I had really acknowledged my dreams in such a public setting. As I looked around the room I saw that there were about 15-20 other students raising their hands. Most of them didn't look as terrified as I felt. It was perplexing. I guess I had hoped that they would all be as shy about their dreams as I had been. Nope. These people had more confidence than I think I had ever displayed in my entire life. Still, I kept that hand raised long enough to hear Dr. P's next comment.

"There should only be one person in here with their hand up, because that's about how many will actually make it."

I had never been so embarrassed to have my hand raised in my life. All the fears I had felt about sharing my dreams with others were just confirmed. I remember going home and writing in my journal that night.

"It kind of got me upset, but at the same time it kind of made me feel like, 'I'll show him!' I just have to break out of my shell and try really hard. No matter what, I won't give it up. AT ALL. I just have to keep going. I will not be influenced or discouraged by other people's opinions."

Ah, the words of eighteen year old me. I think I was really trying to fight off the doubt that had been planted. None of what I wrote in my journal was in my nature at the time. I think it's the kind of determination I'd wished I had and that maybe by putting it down on paper I would magically be that way. I desperately wanted it to be true, but I knew that something was different. I had already started rethinking my dreams. I could see all the happy things I had thought about every night leaving my thoughts as I replaced plans of training my voice, working on stage presence, and learning opera's with choral singing and conducting students. This was also an interest, but not what I had dreamed about for years. I talked myself into believing that even if I couldn't have my dream I could still go into music. I could be happy settling, right? 

Every year since then has been a lot of settling and not accomplishing as much as I could have. Ten years of dreams slipping away and turning into a series of 'what if' statements. I kept trying school, but without that spark of determination and working toward something I was passionate about it never really worked out for me. Ten years of doubting myself and thinking I wasn't very talented. Telling myself I was never going to be good enough and that it was a silly dream anyway. Ten years. It wasn't until last year, when my life fell apart, that I started to make some startling realizations.

I started reviewing my life and going over how I had ended up back in my home town directing musicals, teaching voice lessons, conducting youth choirs, accompanying high school choirs, putting together singing groups for children, doing music workshops for Jr. High students, organizing fundraisers for the high school performing arts and even performing occasionally. Then I thought about that unfortunate year when I kept doing those things while having horrible comments said to me and about me. I asked myself why those comments had such a devastating affect on me. Everything led to one answer: I never gave up on my dream.

I couldn't believe what I had just realized! For ten years I had struggled with the fact that I gave up so easily on my dream, when in reality I was still working toward it. I just didn't know it at the time. I had continued to take voice lessons for three semesters. I had stayed in performing groups. Interestingly enough, I never stopped learning. Even though I had changed my major and eventually dropped out of the music program, I still found myself working to improve my voice and spending several hours a day  researching how the voice works. I even borrowed a friends books from college and began making my way through those. For someone who wasn't in school I sure spent a lot of time studying and practicing. Did you know that Juilliard posts their master classes on youtube? I've watched quite a few of them and even attended vocal workshops. I found a love for theatre and was able to improve my acting and worked on how to have good stage presence. I realized that through those ten years where I thought I had given up on my dream I was actually working harder than ever on it. I was only confused by one thing. Why had I convinced myself that I shouldn't major in music?

I had originally concluded that it was that freshmen orientation class. I think that might have been what eighteen year old me was thinking when she wrote, "I'll show him." I think she was chasing the right attitude, but with the wrong goal. You see, it wasn't the professor or even his comment that sent me down the road I'm currently traveling. It was me. I didn't believe in myself. There was no lack of dreaming. That wasn't the problem. The problem is that I believed so little in my abilities and talents that one sentence convinced me I could never make those dreams a reality. And that is the lie I mistakenly chose to believe.

That's when I decided to at least finish my associates degree. I registered for the one class that I needed online. (Yes, I quit school one class shy of a degree. I really didn't believe in myself.) I also decided that I needed to do something for myself to get away from the self doubt, the negative comments from others, and find a way to have some positive me time so I called my voice teacher from WSU and started taking voice again. It was a great summer. I learned a lot about myself and realized that I can do hard things. My voice started sounding great and I had finally received a diploma. Once fall came I knew it was time to make some decisions about my future and how I was going to FINALLY get back to the original path I started on when I was eighteen. In January, I still hadn't made any final decisions and began wondering what in the world I was going to do. All I knew was that I couldn't stay where I was.

One morning, I had the computer on my lap while I was day dreaming about the wonderful performance of 'La Traviata' that I had just taken my students to the night before. I found myself smiling at the thought of what it must be like to perform on the stage at the Capitol Theater and remembered the conversation with the woman sitting next to me about her time in the vocal performance program at the University of Utah. I looked at my computer and started laughing as I google searched the school, clicked on admissions, and started filling out the application. Even though I was doing this on a whim, I immediately knew that it was what I was supposed to do. I saw that the auditions into the music program were coming up and quickly requested a time. Two weeks later I walked out of the audition room smiling from ear to ear. I had no idea if I had made it or not, but it felt awesome to perform classical music again. The acoustics in the room were incredible and I found myself thinking, "Dang! Is that me singing?!" I'm not going to lie, I was kind of impressed with my voice. Two weeks after that I was competing in a N.A.T.S competition in Salt Lake and took 1st place. That night I thought of a quote from my favorite book, The Alchemist.

"And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it."

In that moment I felt like the universe was most definitely helping me achieve everything I wanted. I knew that I was back to actively working to make my dreams become a reality and now I had the one thing that I didn't have ten year ago: I believed in myself.

I have since performed in a concert at temple square to celebrate the winners of the N.A.T.S competition. I have also received my acceptance letter into the University of Utah. But I am most excited that I have been accepted into the University of Utah School of Music as a Vocal Performance major!

Ten years seems like a long time to struggle through the loss of a dream, but I'm so glad that the eleventh year showed me what those ten years meant. I'm about to turn 29 and, some might say, back at the beginning. But I don't see it that way. The journey between eighteen years old and now has taught me so many lessons and given me so many experiences that I know will help me achieve everything I have ever wanted for myself.

“Before a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way. It does this not because it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams, master the lessons we’ve learned as we’ve moved toward that dream.” 

― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

Update: As noted above, I wasn't really expecting to go back to school. It just happened upon me one fateful January morning. I hate asking for help, but if you could spare even a little bit I would be eternally grateful. Just click the link below. Thank you for all the love and support that has already been given to me at this exciting time in my life. 

http://www.gofundme.com/8mv3c4

More Updates for my local readers: A few wonderful women in my neighborhood have also organized a fundraiser for me. The date is June 6 and 7. It's a bake/yard sale. It will go from 8:00 am - 4:00 pm on both days. Address is 160 E. 200 S. Canyon Road in Fillmore. Thanks for the help!

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” ― Martin Luther King Jr.

As has been alluded to in my previous posts, the last year and half has been a tumultuous time in my life which has led to a lot of life lessons. Some of those lessons have taught me things I had never known or felt before, but today I would like to share a somewhat personal story of how I learned to feel love again, gain a testimony of relief society, and recognize the power and joy of womanhood.

Over the summer I had very cautiously accepted the calling from my Stake President to assemble a youth choir and have them perform a fireside. I had done this task before, I was just very anxious about doing it after such a rocky year. And even though I had accepted this calling, I still didn't feel comfortable accepting invitations to sing at church or community events. You see, I had received  incredibly hurtful comments from a handful of people concerning my talents and my efforts to help others recognize their talents. Negativity tends to build when left unchecked and soon those comments turned into opinions on what a horrible/awful person I am. Even though it was only a few people sharing these opinions, I became so depressed and hurt that I soon believed that everyone had those opinions. I had no desire to leave my house and face people when I was convinced they all thought I was a monster. I couldn't bare the thought of singing or working with others to develop their talents when I believed no one wanted me to do so. I found great difficulty in going to church because I told myself that if I wasn't able to be loved by others then surely the Savior had no love for me either. I had begun to tell myself that the comments from others were true and I deserved to be miserable and unloved for the rest of my life. I honestly stopped feeling love and had given up on life. It was devastating. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't get the negative comments to stop being played over and over in my head. It was a pain that I could see no end to.

Through working to help the stake youth choir prepare for the fireside I slowly began to open my heart again. The spirit was working on me so strongly that I started to feel the Savior's love for me and found joy in music again. Looking back, I am so grateful for the power of this experience and how it helped me to pull myself up. I'm even more grateful for a stake president who felt inspired to ask me to take on the task. When the fireside was over I felt so much peace in my life and the weeks that followed were some of the closest I have ever felt to the Savior. During this time I contemplated the things which I needed to do to begin the healing process and I prayed that I could feel love from those around me and learn how to love others again. It was around this time that I received a message from Michelle.

Michelle and I had met the previous year at a voice workshop and had quickly become friends. She is incredibly talented and is also one of the most kind hearted women I know. In her message she explained that she had felt very strongly that she should write music to go with the book "Daughters in my Kingdom", a book written for the women's organization in my religion. She also expressed how she would very much like to have me join the choir when they recorded it for the cd. I don't know why, but I suddenly felt that I needed to sing again and I believed that this would hopefully be a safe place for me to start. I accepted her invitation, learned the music and prayed that I would be able to add to the choir in a positive way.

The practices were set up so that we would practice on a Saturday, the following Thursday and then record. During the week leading up to the first practice I had accepted an invitation from the stake president to sing at the November stake conference, but as I was practicing I was overwhelmed with anxiety as the thoughts of performing for the very people I was convinced still hated me were too much to bare. I had nightmares that I would sing and everyone would stand and insist that I had no right to be singing in a religious setting because I was a horrible monster. Negative thoughts crept in and once again took over as I dreaded the comments and rumors that would inevitably start once I had finished my song. I was convinced that the pain from the previous year, that I was working so hard on overcoming, would start all over again with one song. In a state of panic and quite a large amount of tears, I called the stake president and canceled. However, I still felt that I needed to go to that first practice.

As I walked into the beautiful reception hall where the practice was to be held, I was apprehensive. I was still shaken up by the anxiety felt from the days before and I hadn't done choral singing in such a long time that I was worried that I would ruin the sound that Michelle wanted. My only comfort was that everyone else in the choir was from Michelle's stake and had no idea who I was. Why was this comforting? Because it meant that I could become invisible and avoid any contact with anyone. Which meant no one would discover that I was an awful person who probably had no place being in that choir. Which meant I wouldn't have to endure any hurtful comments. Now, I know all of this sounds really negative but I need you to understand my mindset at the time to fully understand the impact that this experience had on me. Keep reading, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I promise.

I was greeted by Michelle and guided to my seat as we waited for the rest of the choir members to get there. It was to be a choir of women, since it was specifically written for the sister's in the church. I sat quietly and watched as they talked with each other. I noticed how happy they all were to see each other and to have been invited to join the choir. There were women there with their daughters who spoke excitedly about the opportunity to do this with the beautiful young women they had raised. Michelle humbly spoke of writing the song and everyone exclaimed how powerful it was. I too had felt the power as I had practiced it myself and silently agreed with their sentiment. As I watched these conversations unfold, which I'm sure seemed totally normal to them, I became aware of the love that that they were all sharing with each other. When we sang through the song the first time, tears of joy welled up in my eyes as I became very aware of the lyrics I was singing. We sang of bringing love and joy. We sang of lifting the nations as one. We sang of inviting others to follow the Savior and uniting together. As the words became magnified by the power of the music I couldn't help but look at these wonderful women, most of whom I had never met before, and feel something I hadn't felt in a long time. Love. I thought of the women in my life who had helped comfort me through the pain. I thought of my older sister who was working so hard to raise her three boys far away from her own mother and sisters. I thought of my sister-in-law who despite struggling with health problems and being blessed with six children, still found the time to help other women in her ward. I thought of my little sister and the choice she made to serve a mission. I began to remember experiences when the women of the church had shown great love and support to me throughout my life and I couldn't help but smile. I began to think of all the women I could be helping and serving and all of the young women I had already helped. I was so overcome with love for my Savior, love for the women and young women in my life, and love for myself.

As we finished the first rehearsal, I stuck around to talk with Michelle and another of her friends, Kirsten. I opened up to them about my apprehension to share my talents and everything I had been feeling about my life during those months of struggle. I don't know why I suddenly felt safe sharing with them, but I just let everything out. Through their kind words and strong testimonies I felt buoyed up. I walked out of that room feeling hopeful and wanting to share my talents again. I found myself being excited about belonging to the Relief Society and feeling grateful for the wonderful circle of sisters that surround me. I also began to recognize the power that we, as women, have and the incredible things we can do. I can't express how incredible those few hours were nor do I feel like I can fully explain why. All I know is that because my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, love me and have a plan for me, they gave me these wonderful experiences and placed Michelle in my life to help answer my prayers.

Since finishing the recordings I have read the book 'Daughters in my Kingdom' and have felt so much love for the women who worked so hard to create the Relief Society. I am reflecting so much on that day as I sit here preparing to put together a choir of sisters from every ward in my stake to perform these same songs in a fireside for the Relief Society, Young Women, and the older primary girls. I am excited for them to hear the music that Michelle has composed and to listen to her wonderful testimony. I am even more excited that I will be a part of a choir of strong and faithful women and to feel their love. I truly believe that we are, in fact, Daughters in His Kingdom. And because of one of His daughters I began to feel love again.