Time To Tell Why I Chose This Name...

As I tell people about my blog, and the name of it... they either smile or frown. I have decided it was time I explained WHY I chose to call it Mormon Ex-Wife.

I wanted to write a blog, but finding a name is not easy. Anyone who has tried to think up a username or password knows how stumped you can get when confronted with that question. I mulled over it for days. Nothing came to mind.

I wanted something original and something that would be memorable. Something that would provoke some thought, and curiosity. I also wanted to add a little humor. Life is too short to not laugh at it.

As I was thinking about all the "labels" that can be put on me "Ex-Wife" came to mind. Then I thought "how ironic, being an ex-wife while being a member of a church that has a reputation for having multiple wives!" So, while the Church has a lingering, no longer valid reputation for collecting wives, I appeared to be thrown away!! I saw the humor in that. And for the record, I wasn't really thrown away, I chose to leave both times.

I decided to present it to the active members in my family and gauge their reaction. I called my mom, and presented the name to her... her reaction was to laugh. Good... I then called my daughter Bridgette, she laughed too. Good again.... Finally, I called Danny, who again laughed.

That was enough, I had my name.

A few days ago I was thinking about this blog, and thought "If I ever marry again, I won't be able to keep this name. Then it occurred to me... Although I may someday be a wife again, I will always be an ex-wife to two men who chose a different path.

I am glad I chose the path I did. I stumble and fall at times, and get temporarily distracted... But my desire is to walk the path back to Heavenly Father. So I brush myself off and keep going. That is what this blog is about. Keeping the forward movement.

There is an irony in being a Mormon ex-wife. People still do think of the Church in connection with multiple wives. I smile at that. Kinda a sad smile. In the time when multiple wives was practiced there were so many more women than men, and the women needed the protection and support that being married brought to them. They lived in hard times. The frontier was brutal. The men who had multiple wives were good men, honorable men. They didn't lie and they didn't abuse. Polygamy had a purpose, and then the purpose ended and so did the practice.

I cannot tell you how many women I know who are ex-wives or in the process of becoming an ex-wife, for this very same reason that I am... Pornography addiction and infidelity. Our ex-husbands are not good men, are not honorable men. They lied constantly. They snuck around, cheated with women who cheated on them. They endangered our health through possible exposure to bad diseases. They twisted their words and left us feeling crazy. They blamed us, dumped the responsibility of their bad behavior onto us. For our health and our sanity, we had to get away. There was no honor in what they did. It was selfish and emotionally brutal.

In all this I have increased my trust in God. He knows all that has happened. He knows my heart and all it contains. He knows how to comfort me and how to guide me to comfort others. I am not perfect in this, but I am trying.

So... this Mormon Ex-Wife will smile at herself. She will look at the good that is in her life and praise God for helping her so see the humor.

The Joy of Rain...

It's cold and wet and rainy outside... and I'm loving it!

A few days ago we got a downpour. I mean... literally. The rain was coming down so fast and so hard it was like a wall. The last time I saw a downpour like that was in a monsoon... and monsoons don't happen in Oregon. The parking lot became a small river.

I'm not complaining... after having lived in the desert for seven years, I welcome the freshness a good Pacific Northwest rainfall brings. I started to say just rainfall, but that can be deceiving. I had to add the Pacific Northwest in.

The first rainfall I experienced in Mesa, Arizona left me feeling really homesick. Not because if made me feel like I was home, but because it didn't... The rain started coming down and I thought "good, nothing like cleaning the air and breathing in the freshness after the rain." That is what I expected, what I longed for. What I had experienced my whole life, having been spoiled in the Pacific Northwest lushness and greenery. So I waited for the rain to end, anticipating what it would smell like when the sun peeked out again. Mesa does not smell good, except maybe a little on Brown Avenue, where the orange groves are, and only during the short time when they are in bloom. That does smell good. But in general, the smell of pollution has taken over. It stinks.

So after the rainfall I prepared myself for a "moment". You know the kind where your heart takes a picture and you mark it in your "life book" as a time and place to remember fondly? I stepped outside... I breathed in a deep breath... and I chocked! The smell was horrid... it was musty.... it was moldy... it gagged me. I went back inside in shock. It was about as far away from what I expected as I could have gotten. My heart never developed the picture, I did my best to let it just fade away. I think I may even have cried. I missed home, I missed all those things I had taken for granted.

After that I never made the mistake again. Instead of preparing myself to take in a moment, I prepared myself to not gag when I went out after the rain. All the rain in Arizona left me feeling was damp and dirty. Lifeless... There is no life in the rainfall there. I don't know if that was because it didn't rain often, or that Mesa/Phoenix has become such a polluted place. Or perhaps it was always that way.

Maybe those who love the desert would differ with me, but until I moved there I never dreamed that a tree could look so "sad". So lacking in life. So lacking in green. It seems there are only a few shades of green there, green/brown and brown/green. You could feel it, the plants were not happy. I know that sounds like I'm going off the deep end, but until you experience it, it is really hard to describe. The best I can think of is... the plants were sad. They were living, but not really alive. Just existing. They give in to the wind and the dust. They don't rejoice... they don't sing.

I am grateful for the time I spent in the desert. I believe God had a plan for me there, He took me there to heal me and to teach me. The desert has it's place and it's purpose. I think I was like the desert. I wasn't alive, I only existed. I gave in to the wind and the dust... I didn't rejoice... I didn't sing...

As I walk through a forest here, I can feel the spirit of the woods. The trees here are happy, they rejoice in their home, they sing... They bow and bend to the wind, then laugh as they straighten up again. The trees are happy here. The green is deep and brilliant, and so many shades.

So let the rain fall... Let the trees rejoice... God made this wonderful place and the rain needs to fall in order to keep it this way.

Thank you Lord, for bringing me home. The air smells so good here and in it I rejoice.

A New Week... Let It Be Filled With GRATITUDE and FAITH.

It's another week. A new week. I am going to try hard to stay in the positive. I don't like it how I tend to spiral down into the negative.

I became quite negative when I was married to David. He is very negative, I think it comes with the addiction, and it began to leak out onto me. I didn't realize how negative I had become until someone brought it to my attention. OUCH!! At least I was receptive enough to listen and not become defensive.

A good way to remain positive is to count blessings... I have had so many. So here are a few...

Even though the car is broken, it didn't break down when I was out and about. It happened at home where I was safe and sound. Danny is having it towed and fixed. I live close enough to several stores (Target, Home Depot, and Fred Meyer) that I can walk if I really need something. And I have had a few friends tell me they will take me places if I need a ride.

My new ward is welcoming me with open arms. I think part of it is me, that I am finally becoming receptive to others, which in itself is a blessing I have prayed for. They tell me they are happy I am here.

I am now taking St. John's Wort, which seems to be stabilizing my mood. I am grateful Heavenly Father put herbs on the earth to help us.

I am grateful to be reconnecting with friends of my past. They are still friends. In a way I am feeling like I have made a full circle, and come back to the beginning. I went away for a time, was sent to the desert to heal. And I have healed a great deal. I have thought about all the times the Lord took His people to the wilderness or the desert so that He could work with them and heal them. He definitely worked with me and healed me. I wanted to come out of the desert and return the the lush green of Oregon for some time, but in prayer did not feel it was time. When the time finally came, I was thrilled, and gave thanks to God for blessing me.

I am not on this earth for life to be easy... I am here to learn how to return to my Father in Heaven. It has not been easy, but I have made progress. One of the things I really need to learn is how to live on faith. I want to learn to put my faith ahead of me and behind me like a shield, like a bubble. Surround myself in faith. And the faith is specific. It is faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Faith that He lives, that He has the power to redeem me. Faith in my Savior that no matter what happens, He is bigger, stronger, more powerful than anything. I want my faith in Him to become bigger, stronger, and more powerful than anything that can happen to me.

And with that faith in Him, I will move forward and do the things I need to do, that He wants me to do. Because I WANT to do the things He wants me to do. Faith is not an stationary thing. It does not stay still. If it is not exercised through attitude and behavior, it will recede.

I know there is a plan in motion... I feel it. I do not know where or when it will end, or rather be complete. But I feel a Divine hand guiding me. I cannot deny that. I know He wants me to be happy. That happiness is based on Eternal happiness, not just earthly happiness. I do want the higher happiness.

So, when I get negative, it would be good to bring it to my attention. Kinda knock me on the side of the head and say "Sandy!! Count your blessings again!" I will be grateful you cared enough to set me back where I need to be.

A bad day.

I am having a bad day. It started out okay, even promising, but didn't take long for everything planned in the day to come unraveled.

I don't know if I am even going to post this. I guess if you are reading it, I did.

Why is it that some people can take the punches and keep on their feet, and others crumble? I don't feel like I crumble easily, at least I know I have taken a lot of punches, I have felt the black and blue of the bruises. But to others, who haven't known what I have been through, I think I appear to crumble easily. I used to take more, I was covered in bruises, but I seem to have very little reserves now. Maybe I do crumble a lot easier now.

I have a friend who weathers life's storms awfully well. I've talked to her about it. She says she doesn't know why she is able to take the punches in stride, when others would falter, and believe me, others would falter with what has been handed her. She does say she thinks it is a blessing from God... and is very grateful for it.

Another friend posted this in Facebook: "Things are not always perfect. The measure of a person is how they deal with adversity." - Jeff Zucker, President and CEO NBC Universal.

I've been thinking about that quote all day. What kind of measure do I show? I haven't weathered my storms well... I've crumbled... I've fallen... I sometimes want out... Can a person at some point say "enough"? How much adversity do I have to endure before I just can't walk anymore? Does that mean I don't measure up to much?

My life has been a hard one. My father was a dictator pedophile monster. He had out of control rages at the drop of a hat. Out of his four children, three have P.T.S.D., and the fourth has Borderline Personality Disorder. We have all spent a lot of time relearning life. That's a nice way to say counseling. I'm not blaming now, just explaining. I know it is up to me to become a better person. I know I must be 100% responsible for myself, and my life, if I am ever going to make it a worthwhile one.

Because my foundation was so faulty though, my life has been full of bad decisions. Decisions that I honestly thought were good decisions at the time. I married two men who did not have the ability to keep their vows. I trusted them. They abandoned me, physically, emotionally, spiritually... I did not know how devastating the consequences of those choices would turn out to be... I'm still not sure if I completely understand how deeply it goes. I just know I feel it and I don't know how to get away from it.

I have fears. I don't want these fears. I try hard to trust God and believe He will take care of me. I have had so many blessings. A day does not go by that I don't feel His hand in my life. But He does not abide a slothful servant, and I don't know if I am being slothful or just worn out. I am weary...

I don't think I am supposed to shoulder all this alone. Just to have someone to talk to helps. I feel so alone. I try to reach out, but being a new person all the time has it's disadvantages. They don't know me. Maybe they think I am just using them, a lazy person out to take and not give back. I was once accused of just that. It was never in my heart to be that way. But it makes me afraid to ask for help now. I know they don't know how hard I've worked. How could they? They didn't know me before. I have overcome a lot. With God I overcame a lot. But I still feel so weak, so vulnerable, so much a child inside.

It's all inside. The work I've done. I had to take this little girl who had so many fears and help her to grow up. She had a lot to be afraid of. A lot to overcome. Have I grown up? I think I have some.

I had to be strong for my kids. All those years raising them alone. Their dad abandoned us all. He did so long before I filed papers, long before he physically left. I called myself a married single... No power but all the responsibility... I had more strength then. I made decisions, I moved forward. I made sure my kids had shelter, food, warmth, clothes. We may not have had a lot, but their needs were always met. I found a way, sometimes it took a while, but I found a way.

Somewhere along the way I became tired... I think I realized it about the time I collapsed at school. I went back to school to study business after I filed papers the first time. I was doing well, passing my classes with "A's" and "B's". I was also working close to full time, with my kids, doing newspaper inserting. Then one day I collapsed while working in the student government at school. I went to the doctor and that was when I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I couldn't get out of bed for three weeks. I dropped out of school, I just couldn't think clearly enough to go on.

There have been pockets of time since that moment that I haven't felt tired. Those were times I felt I could trust. I had someone to shoulder the burdens with me, I didn't have to face them all alone. I wonder if that is why these last four years have been so hard. To trust someone so completely only to find out it was all a lie, it turns your world inside out. The tired changed to weary.

I feel like I've lost so much. My home, my security, my sense of belonging somewhere. I finally started feeling like I belonged somewhere when he shattered my world and it all came crumbling down around me... I spent two years trying to save an unsaveable marriage. Then another two years drifting, floating, moving...

I did spend the first year after I moved out of my home with my oldest son in Arizona, but shortly after I moved in I injured my sciatic nerve and became bedridden. I was in a new place, new people, and unable to go to church, to be social. It is hard to make friends when you are stuck in bed. Near the end of that ordeal, I moved to Oregon. As I was preparing to move I made friends with several women. They came over to help me. One woman looked at me once and said how much she was going to miss me. That she was finally getting to know me and now I was leaving... I'm not sure anyone has ever said anything like that to me before.

I do not know why I was required to go through all this. I do not know why it was important for my growth. Have I grown through it? Or have I crumbled? God promises He won't allow more burden than we are able to handle, but I think I am right on the edge. Being on the edge causes the fibromyalgia to flare up, then I really do crumble.

Tiffany called and talked to me for a while. It helped. It always helps when I can talk to someone. I tried calling several people, but no one was home today.

I ask myself... Why am I afraid of the things I am afraid of? I hate driving, without my GPS I doubt I would go anywhere. I get lost so easily. Those who are familiar with the Portland area would laugh to learn that once I went from Aloha to St. Vincent's Hospital only to get lost on the way home and ended up over the Fremont Bridge. For those not familiar, that was really the wrong direction and pretty far away. I have no sense of direction. I do not know which way is North, South, East or West. I have to move my hands to know which is my right side (I eat with my right hand). I have tried really hard to learn it, it just is not in me. I used to pull over and cry on the side of the road because I was lost again. That was before cell phones and GPS's.

Later, when I had a cell phone, David would get frantic calls from me, I was lost... again... in Phoenix. He had sense of direction, he always knew where he was. I envy those who can do that.

My GPS does not make me lazy, it gives me confidence I can arrive where and when I am supposed to without having taken the scenic route along the way and missing half or more of the appointment. And I can arrive without having to wash the tears off my face.

What sparked all this you ask? Why have I felt I couldn't handle anything else?

My car did something weird today. When I started the engine I smelled gas, a lot of gas. It scared me. You are not supposed to smell gas. So I canceled my day. It was supposed to be a day without the girls, just me. I didn't get them to the sitter's house. I did not make it to the dentist this morning. I did not make it to the temple this afternoon. It was very disappointing. I really wanted to go to the temple. I needed the peace, the solace, the time of service. I love going to the temple. I cherish the privilege of being able to attend and serve there.

The car actually belongs to Danny. He is paying for it, but he is letting me drive it. But lately it hasn't been working right. The dash goes on and off, the fuel gauge doesn't work at all, I have to estimate when I need to fill up again. But the worst one is that it looses power sometimes. We think a circuit board is faulty, but don't know where to locate it. Neither of us has money to spare, to get it looked at at a shop. It needs to be looked at.

Through my life I have had cars break down on me, been ticketed because of breakdowns, and towed and impounded because it took me more than 2 hours to get arrangements to move the car. All was very expensive. Having an unreliable car is near the top of my list of scary things, probably pretty close to getting lost with an empty gas tank...

Does it make sense now what I said in my first posting? My ideal world would be to have a husband who made sure my car always worked (among many other things). To just be there for me when things aren't going so good. Together we could figure it out.

I know I'm not ready yet, but I really do want a "together" again. Actually, I've only had "pockets of together". I would like it for real and for always. I don't think that is asking too much. I am certainly willing to do my part.

I'm not sure how I would measure up if someone judged me by my ability to take adversity. I think I have a lot of room for improvement. Maybe that's why my weather is still so stormy.

Thanks for listening, I do feel better now.

A Day at the Beach....

We went to the beach on Saturday. More specifically, Seaside, Oregon. It takes about an hour and a half or so to get there, and we had enjoyable conversation all the way there and back. It was nice to be able to discuss our testimonies of the Savior and the Gospel with each other, and the blessings we have received in our lives.


Once we got there, we discovered that a lot of other people had the same idea as we did, the streets were packed. An advantage to being disabled is to have one of those "disabled parking" placards. So we found parking fairly easily.


The sky was overcast, but it was still warm enough for me. It was beautiful there. I'm not sure I have ever been there with the beach so crowded. Usually, when I've been to the beach there have been maybe a dozen or two other people out there. This day there were hundreds! We even saw sun bathers there, which with the sun behind the clouds, I am wondering why??


After lunch we headed for the Seaside Candyman. This is a salt water taffy store like no other. They make 170 different flavors! There is salt water taffy, then there is the Candyman salt water taffy. The sign on the door says "Best & Biggest Salt Water Taffy Shop West of the Rockies!" I believe it is true. It has become a tradition in my family to visit The Candyman whenever we visit Seaside. So we headed down the street towards the store.

I was trying to be conservative with my selections, and ended up with about a pound and a half of taffy. My favorite flavors are black licorice - always black licorice first! Then pumpkin pie, peanut butter, cinnamon, and black widow (licorice and hot cinnamon). After I get my favorites, I take a few here and a few there, trying new and "exciting" flavors. Danny showed me his bag, with twice as much. But Bridgette beat us all! Her bag cost nearly $20 and it had to be 5 lbs at least. I know my bagful will last quite a while, I hope her children let it last for at least a month!

You don't have to go to Seaside to enjoy their incredible salt water taffy. The website is www.seasidecandyman.com ... go in, take a look around... if you like salt water taffy, you will love this salt water taffy.




After the Candyman, we got Tillamook ice cream cones and headed back to the beach. Another family tradition is to actually go in the water. It doesn't matter what time of year. When we are at the beach, we MUST go in the water! And as usual, it was COLD. But not as cold as the North Sea... After a short while, you really don't feel the cold anymore.


Danny took Penny, his dog, with us. Penny hates water... Let me rephrase that... Penny HATES water. She had never been on a beach (landlocked AZ dog) and had certainly never seen the ocean. She didn't know what to think of it, but the look in her eyes was something like "Are you crazy?? You want me to go where?? And do what??" It was funny. Danny finally carried her out into the surf till it was waist high for him (he is 6'4", so it was several feet high) and threw her in. I think after the initial shock, she decided she liked it. But she kinda smelled after that, you know, wet dog and all...


After a long afternoon, we headed home. It was a fun day, a day spent with a few of my children that I dearly love. A day spent at a place I love to visit. Next time we go to the beach, I want to go to Ecola Park... and Cannon Beach... Anyone out there game??