"Sticks and Stones" and Other Phrases That Make No Sense

 

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." 

I have a few beefs with this phrase. (Also, who came up with THAT phrase? Beef is delicious. Not sure what the problem is here. Seems like it would be a good thing to have a beef with someone, so long as that person is not a vegetarian. Oh, English language, you have done it again!)

So yeah. Who made the "sticks and stones" quote up? Was that person having sticks and stones thrown at him (or her...)? Things that seem like a bad idea to say when someone is throwing things at you: "Sticks and stones may break my bones..." Don't taunt them!! They are already throwing things at you!!
If they weren't throwing sticks/stones at him, I guess they were verbally attacking him and he wanted to prove that their words didn't affect him. 

That's great. That's really great and I wish I was like that, where people's words never hurt me. 
But honestly, I think that's about the most dishonest quote in the world, besides "A penny for your thoughts," because has anyone EVER come through on that statement? Plus, that is literally the smallest amount of change you could give me. Your bribing strategy is terrible.

Words are so powerful. They have the power to do so much good; the power to lift and inspire. Yet they also have the power to cause so much pain.

For example, I'll never forget the boy in 6th grade that said I was fat, or the boy who said to his friend, "You're friends with pretty girls; why are you talking to her?" 

That was 11 years ago, and I can still remember it as vividly as though it were yesterday. That's not to say that you should hold on to things forever and never forgive -- you absolutely SHOULD forgive. And I have. But truthfully, I haven't forgotten and I don't think I ever will. And honestly, it's shaped the way I see myself, even though I really, really wish I could say their words never affected me.

It's not that I don't want to forget. I would love to forget that those things were said about me. I would also love to forget the time that I walked into a stop sign (clearly I was neither graceful NOR obedient...) in front of a bunch of my college peers, but some things just stick with you. But seriously - try as you might to forget, words scar you. 

On the other hand, they can mold and shape your life for so much good. 

When I was a little girl, I remember my grandma said to me, "You have the sweetest disposition. You are so kind and good." She would tell me that nearly every day, and I began to really believe it. My whole life, I have believed that I am, and have tried my very hardest to be, a kind person. 
Would I be that way if no one had ever told me that I was? I don't know. But I'm grateful that someone did -- and I will never forget it. 

I guess the point I'm trying to make is that we have more power than we know. We affect people's lives in ways that most of the time, we probably don't even realize. I can practically guarantee that those boys don't remember telling me I was ugly, and they'd probably feel bad now if they knew they had. But I remember. I remember having to pretend "There's something in my eye; can I please go to the bathroom?" so I could go cry. I remember when my 6th grade teacher said to me, in front of my entire class, "Are you stupid?!"
But I also remember when Sylvia from 5th grade told me I should join choir because I had such a pretty voice. I remember when that boy in high school told me I was funny. I remember when a woman from my mission said that I was sent there just to help her. 

I suppose all I really wanted to say was that you never know what people will remember about what you've said or done... So make it good.

'til next time,
Amy

Easter.

When I think about Easter, I have a few memories that can't help from worming their way to the surface of my mind:

1. Many, many memories of eating ham. I have always hated ham. Literally have nothing good to say about this cut of meat.

2. One time I got a Diva Star (if you don't know what that is, Google it. You won't be sorry. Actually, you might be -- they were kind of freaky looking.) around Easter time. My brother and his friend then took it upon themselves to record a tape of them speaking in low, gravelly voices and put it behind my Diva Star in my bedroom. They timed the tape to go off at a certain point and then, while I was sitting in my room minding my own business, the Diva Star was suddenly, it seemed, talking to me. "Amy -- this is the devil coming to you through your Diva Star."
That's the story of why I have so many nightmares.

Yet most importantly, I can't hear the word Easter without thinking of the most important thing in my life: my Heavenly Father and His perfect Son, Jesus Christ. More specifically, I think about the Atonement and Resurrection of my Lord and Savior.

I am so flawed; so imperfect. I make mistakes and then I make even stupider mistakes... and then I do it all over again. There are times when I feel so scared and alone; times when I wonder if I can possibly make it through another day. There are times when it feels, in the deepest moments of my despair, that no one in the world could possibly understand the pain I'm experiencing. As Elder David A. Bednar said in a talk that changed my life, "No human being, perhaps, knows. But the Son of God perfectly knows and understands, for He felt and bore burdens before we ever did."

Many people know that Jesus Christ took upon Himself our sins (if you don't understand that concept, please ask me OR the missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints), but not everyone knows that He also took upon Himself our pains, our sorrows, our illnesses.... Every single bad OR good thing that has ever happened to us, Jesus Christ knows and understands because He lived it. He lived it so that He, who was perfect, could find a way out of our sorrows, sins, and pains -- and so that, in effect, we would NEVER be alone because there would always be someone who not only understands us, but can help us. He LITERALLY took upon Himself the exact experiences we have gone through. It's mind-blowing and incredible, but the most amazing and awe-inspiring part of it all is that it is TRUE. I know it's true. Anyone can know it's true.

If you're struggling or you need help to believe this, please don't wait. If you want to believe it, I promise you can. I know you can. Because it IS true and it IS real, and Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ want so badly for you to know that so that They can help you. Ask Them for help. Ask me for help. I promise it's worth every sacrifice you have to make to know that it is true.

Jesus Christ experienced everything that we've felt. On top of that, He was tormented, humiliated, and mocked just for trying to help people. When He went to the Garden of Gethsemane, He, Who had never experienced guilt because He had never done a thing wrong in His life, suddenly felt the weight of not only MY guilt, but the guilt of every single person who has ever lived. I can hardly even begin to fathom how that must have felt. He did it willingly because He loved me. That, to me, is the most beautiful part of it all. He loves me. Me! Imperfect and unworthy as I am, He cared deeply enough for me to suffer the most excruciating pain just so that I would never have to feel alone.

After everything that He did, He was crucified. After every miracle He'd performed; after every life He'd touched; after every heart He had healed -- He was crucified. He, the perfect Son of our Father in Heaven, was killed for nothing more than serving others. He was killed and he was buried, just as we will be. But three days later, He rose again. He lives again. And we will, too.

This life is not the end. There is more, so much more. And it is all possible through Jesus Christ.

I love Him. I love Him for all that He has gone through for me. I love Him for being my friend not only when I do what's right, but when I'm a fool and forget Him and turn aside from His commandments. He is always there, willing to help me get my life back on track. He is always there, waiting and wanting to speak with me.

He is always there because He lives. His life on Earth wasn't the end. I know it.
You can, too.

Until next time,
Amy

It's... you know... THAT time

This week's blog post title, also known as "Why I Could Never Be a Lyricist."

So, you know, I'm a girl. (How I'm going to begin all my conversations from now on.) Being a girl, each month I go through a very special time. A time when, according to nearly every Tampax commercial I've ever seen, I should spend wearing a bikini (because how in the world else will I inform people that I'm bloated?!) sitting by the pool. If I'm not sitting by the pool, apparently my only other option is playing soccer. I don't know why those activities epitomize a woman on her period, but whatever. I guess a video of a woman clutching a heating pad and like, screaming at literally everyone because HORMONES wouldn't sell as well. I don't understand why.

Anyway, this, my loves, is a true story about me this past week in a rare moment when I wasn't poolside or playing soccer.

I'd like to preface my story this way: I normally have the emotional stability of the average person, I'd like to think. But when I'm on my period, it's like, every emotion I feel is, I would guesstimate... roughly 8 billion times stronger than normal. Approximately. There's no way to be sure.

So there I was, watching a movie on Netflix one night at about 10:30. The movie itself isn't important... And by not important, I mean that it was Scooby-Doo 2 and I'm really embarrassed about it because I'm pretty sure that even a 7-year-old would have turned it off after the horribly special-effects-heavy Scooby-Doo performs a disco number.

So anyway, it gets to a point in the movie where Velma tells Shaggy and Scooby, who believe themselves to be misfits, that they have been heroes all along.

Awwww. So sweet, huh? WELL APPERANTLY I THOUGHT SO, because all the sudden I am legitimately crying.

Yes, Shaggy and Scooby!! You are inspirational!!! You are heroes! I wish I had a Lisa Frank notebook that I could write all three of our names inside, encircled in a heart!!

Like, what the heck am I doing?! I am a 23-year-old woman, CRYING  at Scooby-Doo 2, a movie that is literally about how Alicia Silverstone's character is actually a costume being worn by a middle-aged man (let's not even get into how super disturbing that is) so he can bring down Coolsville's (clearly a town I would not be allowed into, judging by all of my blog posts) heroes. I am not laughing at how ridiculous this movie is; I am crying because I'm so touched by Velma's 30-second speech.

Yeah. For real. That story may actually be more embarrassing than it was to stand outside for all my neighbors to see me in my robe, but I can't think of any better way to encapsulate what being on a period is like.

Jinkies, it's hard.

Oh, and just a quick word of advice: never, under any circumstances, watch "P.S. I Love You" while on your period unless you're willing to watch and live its unofficial sequel,  "P.P.S. Somebody Take Me to the Emergency Room Immediately Because I Just Lost 80% of the Fluid in My Body Due to Excessive Sobbing." The title wasn't super catchy, so uh, that's probably why you've never heard of it. But yeah. Trust me on this one.

Til next time,
Amy

Embracing my inner Scooby-Doo 🐶🔎👻