My First Big Utah Earthquake

I have lived in Utah for most of my life and only felt tiny tremors that I usually associate with dynamite blasts. There is a military testing site nearby that can sometimes cause shaking in the house.

When I lived in Blanding, Utah as a preteen to young adult, I never noticed any earth tremors. I heard that there was an earthquake in 1905 from my Young Women’s leader. Her home had structural damage dating from then. It was cool to see a little bit of history.

I have lived in North Utah County for the last 9 years. I have felt tiny tremors that I thought might be earthquakes. But I never really knew until other people mentioned on Facebook that they were earthquakes. It really didn’t affect many at such low levels. A picture might fall.

Today felt different. It was a bigger earthquake than I ever felt before. I noted the time of 7:10 am after it ended. The earthquake took place at 7:09. I fell back asleep since I knew it probably wouldn’t be a big deal. None of the other tremors had been. I looked at the news when I woke up later.

It was a 5.7 earthquake four miles away from Magna, Utah. That’s the biggest earthquake Utah has had since 1992. I contacted my brother and parents who live closer to Magna in Salt Lake Valley. I asked if they were okay. My brother said they were okay. I was relieved. I doubted much would happen, but I didn’t know. My brother and parents used to live in Magna, Utah. I felt very glad that they moved away a few years ago.

Unfortunately, my husband’s relatives live closer. They had some minor damage, but still scary. I contacted his aunt to see if there was anything they needed. Right as we were texting, I felt an aftershock around 1:10. She said that she had been feeling aftershocks throughout the day.

I talked with my husband where he was during the morning earthquake. Apparently, he was on the bathroom throne. He felt very exposed and frightened. Being on the toilet, stuck with your pants down, would be a terrible place if the building fell.

On Facebook, I saw various neighbors, friends, and relatives reactions. Anyone from California shared their wisdom of surviving earthquakes. They gave useful advice while the rest of us are thinking of standing in doorways.

I feel like the earth is angry today. It is an odd feeling. I have never been in a natural disaster, so it feels weird. I wonder if Mother Earth has a message for us.

My family and I read from the Bible and the Book of Mormon. Natural disasters are mentioned as a sign of the times. Albeit, natural disasters have always happened. But this put in my mind prophets warning the people. In the Bible and the Book of Mormon, the narrators summarize how the natural disasters were a result of people’s sins. It made me think: Is this due to a sin? Are we sinning in Utah?

I thought of a possible warning:

Thus saith the Lord: Henceforth, cease from thy selfishness. Share with thy neighbor like unto thyself. In times of trouble, let everyone have their toilet paper.

My Husband and I Default to Masculine Nouns and Pronouns

While serving a Latter-day Saint mission in Uruguay, my husband chose a name for his first daughter before he met me. It was the Spanish feminine subject pronoun ella with the Uruguayan pronunciation of double l — aysha. Meanwhile, I roomed with his sister south of Brigham Young University campus.

After I came home early from my mission due to bipolar, my former roommate arranged for her brother and I to have a blind date. My husband and I married four months later. He shared his desire to name a girl Ella. The name sounded fine to me. I said let’s adopt a Chinese girl one day because I had taught English in China. Anything seemed possible.

Fifteen months after our marriage, we found out we were having a boy. We were stumped what to name him. More like what name to agree on. I had the name Edmund in mind from The Chronicles of Narnia, but my husband nixed that name. He had an annoying college classmate by the name Edmund, so naturally we couldn’t name our firstborn that. We asked other people for name ideas as weeks passed by. My maternal grandma mentioned two names that she liked. My husband and I didn’t dislike one name she suggested, which we both liked after awhile. So that’s what we named our son.

On our second pregnancy, we hoped for a girl still. We still had a name picked out. Perfect pronoun Ella. We felt some disappointment when we discovered the second was another boy. But there would be a third time to try.

Only now we had to choose another boy name. I liked the name Liam, but I wasn’t sure how different it was. I don’t remember my husband’s feelings about the name. We went for the easy naming strategy of family names. We shared a male family name on both sides of the family. Thus, we named our second-born after his two grandpas.

Officially, my husband and my default nouns and pronouns changed to “Boys!”, sons, he, and him. It wasn’t children or kids or they or them.

The third time is the charm.

That’s what the saying says. That’s what my husband hoped. That’s what I hoped, but I would be okay either way. My psychiatrist said that I should expect a boy and be surprised if it was a girl.

When the radiologist performed the ultrasound on our third child, she acted strangely. She announced it was a boy, but then she exited the room to consult with the doctor. My husband and I silently wept. Our oldest son was sad too. No girl. But I recovered quickly. I could tell something else was wrong when the doctor returned, which wasn’t procedure. The doctor showed us the baby’s left club foot and explained how treatable it was.

My husband and I cried more over the lost opportunity of a daughter than our son’s club foot. That was treatable, almost reversible. His club foot has required casting, minor surgeries, and orthotic shoes. But we wouldn’t trade our third for a daughter. He fits in perfectly.

At this point, my husband let me choose the name because he was out of ideas. I chose a friend’s brother’s name who was kind, smiled big, and teased. Somehow that seemed destined to be my son’s name. He smiles big and teases his brothers.

At a restaurant several years ago, my husband yelled “Boys! Boys! Boys!” to round them all up. Many looked at him strangely. My husband realized that they thought he could be calling any boys from any family. But our boys know our voices. They sometimes respond to our calls — selective hearing (or fluid in their ears).

Friends, relatives, and strangers asked if my husband and I would try a fourth time for a girl. I wondered if the fourth time could be the charm. It had been for my family’s history. My paternal grandma had my aunt after three boys and my sister had my first niece after my first three nephews.

On my fourth pregnancy ultrasound, I recognized the anatomy of a boy before the radiologist announced what the gender was. My husband felt some disappointment. I felt fine with another boy. It is what I was used to. My oldest two sons were disappointed.

I wanted to name our son after my uncle and use the nickname that sounds like a girl’s name. I fell in love with the name from a children’s book too. But my husband didn’t like it for the first name. So I mentally searched more family names. My great uncle’s real name sounded good — not his nickname. My husband approved that name with my other uncle’s name as the middle name.

After my son was born, receptionists said “she” at doctor’s offices when they called for my son. I cringed. I had chosen a boy name. I went to the library and a mother called for her child with my son’s same name— but a girl. No! This was a classic boy name for hundreds of years and suddenly it had been co-opted as a girl’s name. Then I realized that I knew of a girl in her teens named that. Had I subconsciously named my son a girl name? Well, an androgynous name.

“Boys!” became a louder noun as my husband and I yell over the chaos of four male children. Our boys occasionally bring home female friends. Usually, it’s more male friends. More boys. Boys. Boys. More noise. Noise. Noise.

I am surrounded by testosterone as my boys come closer to teenage-hood. I feel outnumbered. I am the only she/her among the he/hims. Other boy moms and I bond together in unity. We understand the chaos of boys, but the world of girls seems foreign. Some of us still yearn for a girl. Some of us have accepted our fate. We enjoy boys. All children have their challenges at different ages.

Yet a neighbor family recently had a girl after four boys. Our realtors tease us about having a fifth child to have a girl. They are an older couple who had four boys and their fifth child was a girl. The fifth time could be the charm. But then I see my former mission companion having her sixth boy and a fellow boy mom having a fifth boy.

It is all a game of chance.

If my husband and I ever roll again, we just have to bet on a boy.

My Thoughts on Impeachment

As a sophomore in high school 21 years ago, we were assigned to write a persuasive essay over Christmas Break. I stayed at my cousin’s grandparent’s turn-of-the-century home while on vacation. The light flooded through their parlor windows on the piano and on my fingers as I revised and rewrote my essay. I chose to write about the importance of having righteous leaders in our country and when to oust them as leaders. I used scripture references from The Book of Mormon where King Mosiah instructs his people on setting up a representative democracy.

Via Public Domain Photos

My parents watched the Clinton impeachment hearings almost every day. When I visited my parents recently, the Senate impeachment hearing was on the background while my parents, brother and I talked. Twenty-one years ago and now, we had discussions about the freedom of our country and the role of the President. I imbued those values in my writing and speaking. I lost that persuasive essay from 21 years ago, but I still have one poem.

To the Senate

I hope with all my heart
Each one will do their part —
With courage stand tall
And make the giant fall.

I hope they won’t take light
The judgment for not doing right.
Why do they cower
Now at the eleventh hour?

Why do they not defend
Truth to the very end?
Why do they fuel the battery
Of the giant’s flattery.

I compare Bill Clinton’s actions to Donald Trump’s actions now to evaluate whether we should oust one President or not. Bill Clinton and Donald Trump are both womanizers, but Bill Clinton raped women and lied about it. He was impeached because he lied and obstructed justice about his actions toward Monica Lewinsky and Paula Flowers. Donald Trump paid for prostitutes, but it was between two consenting adults. I imagine Trump could easily be convicted for sexual harassment on multiple charges.

Bill Clinton is a slippery man and a flatterer. Donald Trump is an arrogant jerk. Trump purposefully pushes peoples buttons in obvious ways. I believe if people ignored him, some of his poor behavior would go away. Is he a good president? Sometimes he accomplishes good things depending on who you talk to. I appreciate that the economy has improved under Donald Trump’s presidency. Personally, I think some of his actions — or inaction — has been good. But he can be nasty too.

Do I think Donald Trump should be outed as President?

I believe he has overstepped some of his bounds as far as power goes. Maybe not purposefully, but because he is brash. He isn’t one for formal rules. I believe he abuses power when it suits his purposes. But I don’t think it would be useful to impeach him. There is only one year left in his presidency. I would prefer Mike Pence over Donald Trump.

I trust Trump will act in his self-interest; thus, he will be predictable. He acts rashly on Twitter with no filter, but he is a strategist.

I won’t vote for Donald Trump in the next election. Either major party — give us a morally decent centrist candidate. Anyone who follows the Constitution and Bill of Rights. I will probably vote libertarian or some third party candidate.

No One Has Privilege When We Pull Each Other Down

I hear of males having privilege or females having privilege. The whites have privilege or blacks have privilege. In the intersectional hierarchy, white males have the ultimate privilege. But you go down and people of color, LGBTQ, and women don't have privilege. You talk to others that say that women have more privileges than men now because they are in the majority attending college and so forth.

Who really has the privilege? No one, yet everyone.

Via Public Domain Photos

My high school Spanish teacher taught us a life lesson he learned on the beach in Mexico from a man catching crabs. The teacher asked the man why he didn't cover the bucket of crabs. Surely, the crabs would escape. No, he reassured him, the crabs pull each other down.

We are all crabs in a bucket trying to get out, only we are pulling the other crab's legs in our struggle to climb the ladder.

I believe that sometimes men have advantages and sometimes women have advantages. Sometimes, white skin has advantages, but sometimes black skin has advantages. Historically, black skin in America most often meant slavery or subhuman treatment. Sometimes, being a minority helps a person land a job or a scholarship. But being a minority also might mean getting your braids whipped by a TSA agent.

Occasionally, I felt at a disadvantage in China with white skin and being a tourist. I was charged more at times and whispered about some. I was told not to look "poor" by the school I volunteered at when I crocheted blankets on a trip. I was supposed to be the "rich American." Well, I was a poor American then. My white skin has advantages in the US for not being profiled for crime.

Man versus woman plays out in the courtroom so often with rape claims, sexual harassment claims and divorces. Generally, men have a physical advantage over women. Some men physically or emotionally abuse their girlfriends or wives and children. On the other hand, some women physically or emotionally abuse their boyfriends or wives and children. There is also legal abuse that is a huge problem. We have false accusations that tarnish reputations of men or women. These come with restraining orders and child custody battles. Fathers or mothers sometimes won't see their children for years. Depending on which gender you favor most, the legal, religious, and social leaders tend to side with that person and defend with that man or woman to the end. I watch cases where it doesn't matter what the truth is: only ideology matters.

I really hope people look at their biases clearly here with who is right or wrong. Sometimes, we feel that a woman is weaker and has been trampled on by her abusive husband. Other times, we look at the man and feel he has been nagged to death by his wife. But are we really looking at the truth? Sometimes one or both parties is lying. We need to do our best to discern truth from error. Nevertheless, in a breakup situation, both need love. Both need help within the necessary boundaries people can give.

Ultimately, evil and pride are what prevails in winning the battle in a fallen world at times. It is what destroys individuals, marriages, families, and nations. It is the pitting of one group against another based on some characteristic such as gender, race, nationality, and so on. Satan or the humanistic tendency toward pride and chaos causes the divisions among us. Paul stated "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus." Our differences are fine as long as we don't use them as a tool to divide one another.

Fear Blocking Truth

Via Public Domain Photos

Last year I had applied to two linguistic MA programs, which had been my dream to be accepted for over a decade. When I was not accepted, I asked for the reasons why from one school: my GRE essay score was too low and my thesis topic was not a fit for the school. The school had an unusual number of applicants last year too.

I felt the logical steps were to pick a topic that faculty has some specialties in and retake the GRE. So I formed an idea of a second language acquisition project based on peer learning. I would start making a peer-to-peer website that people can match with each other to play games to learn language with each other. I started my TESOL certificate and beginning programming with this goal in mind. I am signed up to continue these online classes. I have some passion for this idea because I would love to make quality, free peer learning available worldwide.

But my passion isn't necessarily all in this area of linguistics. I wrote a focused draft of my statement of intent about peer learning and second language acquisition. I sent this to a professor and my idea to another professor. These professors suggested I look into different majors of TESOL and Second Language Teaching because of my focused idea. I felt defensive because I wanted linguistics. I wanted to learn about phonetics, spelling, comparative/historical linguistics, poetics, philology, and language acquisition. But I hadn't communicated that to them. I had lied to them and to myself. So they gave me suggestions based on my lies. I had been afraid of being rejected a second time from the linguistics MA. I sent emails back to them explaining my fear and lie to myself and them.

I feel like an idiot, but I am only human. I never felt like I was lying because I felt I was acting logically. I am recognizing that I was acting out of fear. Fear is not a good place to act from because it brings poor results. I am working on a new statement of intent that better reflects my general interest in linguistics. I can still have the same tentative Master's project, maybe.

By the way, I retook the GRE and scored one point higher on the essay score out of six points. I have an almost average essay score, so it's significantly better than before. Much more focused.

Whatever the future brings will be fine.

Disability Language and Healing

This week I have been reading the Exponent blog's posts about disabilities and creating #EqualAccess at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (Yes, I read from the feminist, liberal, moderate, and conservative blog posts on Church culture.) Several posts repeat the message that disabled people do not want to always to healed in the next life and that we are going with identity first language.

Labeling Language and Disabilities

I personally prefer "identity" language instead of the "person first" language just because person first language has always been clunky. For example, "Look at that woman with bipolar" vs. "Look at that bipolar woman." I am fine with "bipolar woman" describing me. Bipolar is in the adjective slot of the sentence still describing me, but with fewer words than "woman with bipolar."

Even though I prefer "identity" language, I still separate bipolar from my overall identity as a child of God. I have other compartmentalized identities, but each of them stays mentally in their slots. It is how I choose to handle the different roles or trials I need to deal with one at a time. Otherwise, I become overwhelmed.

In my linguistics class, we discussed how every few years the terms for disabled or race groups would change. The reason why these terms would change is because people had negative feelings about the people. So it doesn't matter what term anyone really uses if the negative feelings continue. We have to change our hearts to love the marginalized groups.

As far as using terms to describe a group of people, I think it is best to find out from that group or individual. You can look at official usage on websites too.

Being Healed in the Next Life

I wonder how much of my personality is bipolar. I don't know. I don't want to give up my personality in the next life. So I can understand why some people may not want to be "healed" in the next life because they feel complete with who they are now. Their disability doesn't limit them in their minds, only the rest of the world thinks so. Thus, I can see how being healed in the next life can be a hurtful teaching at church.

Do I want to be healed in the next life?

Yes. I want to be healed of bipolar in the next life. I consider my bipolar a disability that has limited my ability to work, go to school, rear my children, lose weight, vacation, and make meaningful relationships. I also consider bipolar--not a blessing--but an experience that has shaped who I am. I am more empathetic because of my experience. I can relate to other people's emotional anguish. I have made some friends because of my bipolar. It's a mixed bag. 

Would I want to be healed of bipolar now?

Maybe. I believe it's possible and God can do it, but He hasn't. I don't believe He will heal my bipolar in this life because I believe this is my burden to bear. I believe I have been healed of other illnesses, but I have never asked to be healed from bipolar. It is just a normal mental illness from genetics and environment. I don't feel I need to be healed currently because I have medicine, counseling, and other methods to cope. 

Addicts and their Families Need Support

Via Public Domain Photos

For a summer, I was a case manager at a day treatment center where several of the clients dealt with multiple addictions. I was too young to recognize all that I really could have done. But I have learned so much more about addiction and recovery.

Most of us know someone who deals with an addiction or compulsion. We may deal with an addiction or compulsion ourselves. It can be very difficult to be supportive for someone who has an addiction or compulsion. It is a balance between support and not enabling them in their bad habits.

The journey is very personal and not something we can always openly talk about. Sometimes, we suffer in private. There are resources for those who are the support system of addicts. We need to take that support for ourselves. We need to engage in regular self-care. If we haven't taken care of ourselves, we have nothing to give to anyone else. We need to also recognize that we cannot change the addict. Only the addict can change themselves.

Many spouses or other long-time support of addicts suffer from betrayal trauma. It is a form of relationship trauma and PTSD from dealing with the subtle or sometimes outright abuse. The abuse is sometimes unintentional, but it still hurts other people.

Professional help and support groups can help the support person and addict on the journey to healing and recovery.

When I was 10 years old, I stepped on a broken beer bottle at a local reservoir. I bled from the circle wound in my foot. My mom took me to the clinic where the doctor put in stitches. Someone's addiction to alcohol (and littering) caused my injury. But there was also a way to heal that injury.

Glass Shards

One bottle smashed to the ground
Two bottles smashed to the ground
One step into the street
Two steps into the street
One shard into my foot
Two shards into my feet

One bottle crushed in the puddle
Two bottles crushed in the puddle
One jump into the water
Two jumps into the water
One fragment in my calf
Two fragments in my calves

One truth smashed to the ground
Two truths smashed to the ground
One step down to hell
Two steps down to hell
One soul shred in two
Two souls shred in two

One lie crushed beneath our feet
Two lies crushed beneath our feet
One rung up the ladder
Two rungs up the ladder
One stitch in the wound
Two stitches in the wound


I believe in hope with the Savior for those hurt by addiction and the addicts. It may be long and difficult road, but worth the journey.


Spouse and Family Support:

Church of Jesus Christ Spouse and Family Guide
Al-Anon
Smart Recovery
PalGroup
American Addiction Centers

Sexual Compulsion Help:

Addressing Pornography-Church of Jesus Christ
Utah Coalition Against Pornography
Lifestar
The Betrayed, The Addicted, The Expert podcasts
Betrayal Trauma Recovery (spouse)

Addiction Recovery:
Church of Jesus Christ 12 step groups
Alcoholics Anonymous
List of Alcohol Addiction Recovery article
US National Helpline Substance Abuse 1-800-662-HELP (4357)
Narcotics Anonymous