This one deserves a pause.

May has somehow disappeared, but I can't let it slip away without a nod to "Mental Health Awareness Month." It seems like there is a "day" or "month" for everything, too many to keep track of, way too many to observe. But this one. This one deserves a pause. We have come a long way as a society since Mental Health Awareness Month was first observed in the United States in 1949, but we still have far to go. The stigma still exists. Many who wouldn't hesitate to disclose publicly that they suffer from diabetes or heart disease are embarrassed to reveal that they deal with anxiety or depression or bipolar disorder or OCD. That is not only sad; it's terrifying. 

Our family is all too familiar with mental illness. I lost my dad to depression four decades ago, and I have struggled with debilitating anxiety for as long as I can remember. I wouldn't wish this illness on my proverbial worst enemy, but there is clearly a genetic link; I have passed anxiety disorders to three of my beautiful children. At times I feel so guilty about this. I know how much it sucks. Other times, I feel grateful for my firsthand experience and understanding of these disorders, so I am able to support my kids. 

I've written extensively about my anxiety disorders in this blog, so I won't say much about those today. Instead, I'll just point out two truths that make mental illness so challenging to deal with. One is that it can be so invisible. Its symptoms don't usually show themselves to others at least not right away. I can't count the number of times people have said things to me like, "I can't believe you have anxiety. I mean, you are the most 'together' person I know, so confident and in control." When I hear such comments, I'm always quick to invite these people over to chill with me at 3:00 a.m. when I'm climbing the walls because I'm convinced I have a fatal disease. Haha, no one has taken me up on this offer.

Second, while it's impossible for those who don't struggle with mental illness to fully understand it, some try harder than others. I've been told that I'm just making it up or that I should just not think those thoughts or feel those feelings. If only it were that easy. If only.

As the month of May and the month of Mental Health Awareness concludes, may we push forward to end the stigma attached to mental illness. To those who suffer from mental health issues, to those who have lost dear ones to mental illness, to those who (like me) fit into both categories, or to those who simply care enough to want to raise awareness, I feel you, and my voice stands strong with yours.  

Just stop buying food for your kids for a week, and sell Swen's Pokemon cards.

Shulamith: "Dang, tickets are only $65 for tomorrow. Tell me again that we're waiting to go to a second series game."

Isaiah: "Why not both? I bet the price went down since we're playing the Grizzlies now."

Shulamith: "Cuz I'm poooooooor. I'm gonna save the $70 and put it toward the $160 second round tickets."

Isaiah: "Just stop buying food and stuff for your kids for a week."

Shulamith: "Hey, they don't eat anything anyways, so maybe that's not a bad idea."

Isaiah: "Sell Swen's Pokemon cards."

This dialogue is a snippet from a conversation Friday on our 3-way text thread, whose theme wraps itself primarily around our favorite basketball team, the Utah Jazz. If basketball isn't your vibe, I get it. Totally. It wasn't mine either for most of my life. But then Isaiah moved to Utah for college and jumped on the Jazz train. And I followed. Because, you know, I'll do most anything to hang with my awesome kids. (Remember this, for example?).

I no longer follow the Jazz just to chill with Isaiah; I'm a diehard fan in my own right. And this year, oh my! For those who are unaware, this basketball team finished the regular season as the #1 seed in the Western Conference and with the best overall record in the NBA. For real. Coached by the brilliant Quin Snyder, and led by the incredible talent of Donovan Mitchell, Rudy Gobert, and Mike Conley, this organization has proved to the basketball world that, indeed, team is everything.

It wasn't a perfect season. It never is. They made mistakes. They lost games they should have won. But as Rudy likes to say, "on to the next one."

On April 16th, in a game against the Indiana Pacers, Jazz leading scorer Donovan Mitchell suffered an ankle sprain. Shulamith, Isaiah, and I were watching, and in the moment, we had no idea the extent of his injury. Did he break his ankle? Would he be out for the remainder of the season? All the questions. It was so sad. As you know, I am forever the "glass half empty" girl, so I was sure this was the end of our rainbow. They were already barely hanging on to the #1 position in the west, with Phoenix right on their heels.

I was wrong. Even facing adversity, the team persevered. They fought. Their passion pushed them forward, one game at a time, without Donovan and eventually without Mike Conley, whose chronic hamstring issue flared up. They finished the regular season in the #1 position. 

The post-season games began this week, with our first series against the 8th seeded Memphis Grizzlies. We should win. Yes, we should. Even without Donovan, we should win. We lost the first game. The first quarter, they played well, at least on the defensive end, enough to get us a 14-pt lead, but then, I don't know, everything just sort of fell apart. We couldn't make shots, and the turnovers...yikes! Up until 20 minutes before game time, Donovan (and the rest of us) believed he would be playing. He didn't. They pulled him. I'm glad they're being extra cautious with his injury; we need him healthy. 

Game 2 of the series was last night. I expected them to come out strong and determined, and they did. They don't like to lose. This time, yes, we had our Donovan, who was insanely on fire. It was a solid win, and now we need just three more of those to progress to the second round series. 

Oh, and in case you're wondering, Shulamith's kids are fed, and we did not have to sell Swen's Pokemon cards. All is well. We'll catch a game second round, and you know, when they make it to the championship finals, maybe then.  :-)

The best text message in all the land!

As a mom, I get many text messages throughout the day. Lots of these come from my kids, and some are definitely better than others. My least favorite are the cryptic ones that shoot my anxiety all the way to Mars: "Are you home?" "Can I call you?" "Why aren't you answering your phone? Are you in the temple?"

The all-time worst text message was from Isaiah about five years ago. I was teaching a gospel principles class on a Sunday morning, when this came in: "I messed up, and I need help." Okay, pause.  Isaiah is the smartest person I know and the most responsible. He carefully monitors every area of his life, sets goals, achieves them, and always makes informed, well-researched decisions.

Still, the text kinda threw me. Keep in mind my super hero persona: "Anxiety Girl: Able to jump to the worst possible conclusion in a single bound!" And jump I did. Thoughts of him in jail or freezing at the bottom of a ditch somewhere raced through my mind as I ran out of class and into the foyer. I remember saying something to my class like, "Uh, I need to go make a call. Go ahead and talk about whatever we were talking about." Turns out Isaiah was in the middle of the application process for his first career job out of college, and he somehow missed the email from HR telling him to go take a drug test the previous Friday. He wanted me to help him write a reply explaining and apologizing. That I did, and he got the job. Whew!

After that fiasco, I know you're all dying to find out what is the best text message in all the land. Well, let me tell you. It's these four, simple words:

Can I cook tonight? 

When I see those words on my phone, my heart sings with joy. My breathing slows as endorphins flood my body and brain. As most of you know, I hate to cook. And I totally suck at it. That beautiful, shiny text message means I don't have to decide what to make for dinner. I don't have to shop for the ingredients. I don't have to cook the food, and I don't have to clean up the mess. Can I get an "Amen"?

Never in my wildest dreams did I think this scenario could happen to me...and regularly, even. But it does. A few months ago, Isaiah began to experiment with Asian cooking. He loves Asian food, and I certainly don't know how to cook it, so he took matters into his own hands. He's made various noodle dishes, including Ramen and Pad Thai, a fried chicken entree, and a couple different Pho recipes. So far, everything has been delicious. 

Then a couple weeks ago, Seth sent this same text message. Seth! Say what? I was, uh, shocked? He never cooked anything until he went to Paraguay, and there he learned to make eggs and rice but not much more. He, too, loves Asian food, and I think eating Isaiah's meals spurred him to try cooking. He made this bowl of cheesy noodles with shrimp and cilantro. It was so good.

As Mother's Day approached, Shulamith and I were complaining to each other that we shouldn't have to cook for everyone that day, when we are the two mothers. So she hatched a plan to get Matt to do most of the work. I bought ribs, and he smoked them all day; in addition, she talked him into making three loaves of sourdough bread from scratch. So basically, he prepared the whole meal. I opened a can of baked beans, and Shulamith made a pasta salad, but really, it was all Matt. Ooooh, those smoked ribs were yummy, and the bread....well, imagine warm, homemade bread straight out of the oven.

By this point I had three guys cooking meals for me. What could be better?

Nothing, I thought, until today. Shulamith and I were out for one of our multiple walks, and she said "I'm making enchiladas tonight. Do you and Isaiah and Seth want some?" Uh, YES! Later in the evening, I stepped out my back door, turned left, and walked around 50 steps to meet Shulamith "on the grass" (as we call it) and brought back these lovely enchiladas:

Mmmmm! She worried they might be too spicy for me, but nope. They were perfect. Because, again, I didn't grocery shop, cook, or clean up. 

So those of you who like to text me, be informed. The best text message in all the land is this one:

Can I cook tonight?

"Measure 20 times; drill once!"

It may not surprise you to learn that interior decorating is not exactly my jam. My mother is super good at it, but I inherited none of her talent. I am an auditory learner and as non-visual as anyone I know; I couldn't tell you what looks good in a house to save my life. All this makes moving into a new home challenging. Suddenly, I have so many empty rooms and blank walls. We moved nearly six months ago, and it's taken me about that long to get the living and dining rooms furnished, and I'm still not quite done, but close. A few months ago, my uber-talented sister-in-law, Monica, sent me two lovely pieces of art that she created, and until this past week, they were literally the only things hanging on my walls. Look how beautiful:

I'm definitely a minimalist when it comes to home decor; for me, less is definitely more. But I still needed something! Back when we packed up and moved from Angel house, Amanda made me promise not to allow anyone but her to hang things in the new house. I've mentioned before that she has a remarkable skillset, and one item in that set is her eye for design, combined with her precise attention to detail. Her mantra: "Measure 20 times; drill once!" And it works too!

Shulamith is, shall we say, less prone to exact precision and far less likely to measure 20 times. Or even once. In the middle of "Project Make Terrianne's Living Room Wall Look Good," I believe I heard Shulamith say something like, "Think twice, measure once, drill five times." Haha! Still, let's give credit where credit is due. While Amanda arranged this wall grouping, Shulamith was the one who talked me into buying the mirror, and she is also the one who found the cute "E and "W" tiles. Eli thought it was "dope" that we were decorating our living room with his initials, so I made sure to get an ampersand sign to separate the two letters, which (sorry, Eli) represent the two last names in our family.

This project took two evenings, and both were pretty wild rides. I busied myself cleaning and tried to stay clear of the whole measuring and drilling thing. I am positively useless to help, and I just get stressed. The first night, the goal was to hang the three major pieces in the wall grouping Amanda had created. 

The second night, the goal was completing the wall with the final two smaller pieces: a plant and the initial tiles. I'm not sure which night was hardest; they were both difficult. "Measure 20 times; drill once" is only the first step. There is also this thing called a "level," which Amanda uses to make sure things are straight. So her mantra, more accurately, should be "Measure 20 times; check level; measure again; check level again; measure once more; get Eli to hold everything up; step back to see how it looks from far away; measure again; check level again; and (finally) drill once."

I will never be an interior designer. That sounds like the job from hell, right up there with telemarketer or door-to-door salesperson. This stuff is so hard for me, and I don't enjoy any part of the process. I am so grateful for others who are willing to share their talents. Thank you, Amanda, for your creativity and for your eagerness to always volunteer to help with so many projects in so many ways. Thank you, Eli, for (1) marrying Amanda and (2) always helping out with any project at any time, even when you're crazy busy finishing up one job and training for another. Thank you, Shulamith, for running around with me, here and there and everywhere, to look for all things "house," and for always being by my side with unequivocal support and encouragement and for being my very best friend. Though they weren't part of this (or any) home decorating project, thank you Isaiah and Seth for your constant friendship, for making me laugh every day, and for just being the coolest! And thank you, Luke, for making me a mom.

Happy Mother's Day to all. I am, indeed, a lucky mommy!

Oh...and here's the final product!