Three Generations

Ever since I moved here two and a half years ago, I've been meaning to sit down with my grandparents and interview them on camera about their parents, their own lives, and my parents. Then both of my grandfathers died, and I lost that opportunity forever, something I still regret. The impending deadline of moving away for graduate school finally prompted me to action, and these last two Mondays I've taken my camera over to my mom's mother's house to interview her.

Last week didn't go too well, simply because I neglected to make sure my camera battery was charged. I still managed to get about twenty minutes of interview time, though, mostly about how my grandmother's parents met and a little bit about my great-grandparents. I had just started asking her about her mission when she began to feel ill and our session was cut short.

This week I remembered to charge my battery, and got some great stories about my grandma's mission, but halfway through my camera cut us off again. Not because of the battery this time, but because my memory card had run out of room! Thankfully I had my other card with me, but soon that, too was filled up. Not surprising, since I hadn't erased any of the pictures on either card since I got them for Christmas last year. Today I got more than a half an hour of interview footage. Next time I'll make sure my battery is fully charged and my cards are empty!

The three generations the title of the post refers to is the three generations of sister missionaries in my family: my grandmother, my mother, and me. When I realized that a few weeks ago I was so excited: what a wonderful tradition and heritage! Of course, I always knew my grandmother and my mother served missions, but I had never really processed how unusual that is. Up until last October, when President Monson lowered the age that sisters can serve from 21 to 19, sister missionaries made up a tiny percentage of the overall missionary force of the Church. Most women of my grandmother's generation in the Church didn't serve missions, and both my mother and I were far outnumbered by elders on our missions. I hope, though, that one day I'll be able to help add a fourth generation to that tradition, and that in my daughter's (or daughters'!) day there will be just as many sisters as there are elders.

Where Am I?

Healing Hurts

My name is AnnMarie, and I'm a TV addict.

This is probably not news to any of you reading this, assuming that the set of all those reading this is a subset of the set of people I know. If I don't know you and you're reading this (how did you get here?), you might actually not know this. But that's beside the point. The point is: I'm a TV addict. I watch way too much TV and it's bad for my physical, emotional, mental, social, and spiritual health.

Like most addicts, I've been in denial about this for quite some time, but something I read tonight hit me hard enough that I finally couldn't rationalize my way out of it. Or rather, I could have, but I was finally humble enough not to. I finally admitted to myself that TV-watching is not just a casual hobby, that it's not not having an effect on my life and well-being, that it's actually keeping me from things that I want in the long term.

It's ridiculous to say that watching violence and immorality or hearing vulgar language and jokes on television has no effect on you. If you saw those things in person they'd affect you; why not if you see them on television? After I watch something violent or vulgar I always feel dragged down. My mood becomes dark and brooding, and the effects can linger for hours or sometimes even days. I'm not sure what science would conclude, but for me that's pretty compelling evidence. I have enough problems with depression, anxiety, and self-loathing from my wacky hormones, I don't need anything exacerbating the problem.

To quote something from the article I read tonight: "When we are not doing what we know we ought to be doing, and when we are not living the way we know we ought to live, we have a tendency to be unhappy." Well, I'm unhappy, and it's because I'm not doing what I know I should be doing, and I'm not living the way I know I should be living. My time is spent on "that which is of no worth . . . [and on] that which cannot satisfy" in the eternal world (2 Nephi 9:51).

What am I going to do with my new-found hours and hours of unspent time? I'm going to do family history. I'm going to learn to cook healthier food and actually sit down at my table, hopefully with a friend or two, to eat it. I'm going to attend the temple more often. I'm going to pray more sincerely, read my scriptures more diligently, and ponder the words of living prophets and apostles more carefully. I'm going to be more active. I'm going to cultivate and strengthen relationships. I'm going to go to bed earlier. I'm going to serve others.

It's going to be really hard. I know, because I've tried it before. And it was hard. And I eventually (sooner rather than later) fell back into my TV-watching habits. I want this time to be different. I want to be healthier, physically, emotionally, mentally, socially, and spiritually, and I can't do that without removing this negative influence in my life. Obsession and addiction, in whatever form they may come in our lives -- harmful substances, people, activities, seemingly-innocuous foods -- are not healthy. They become crutches that hold us back instead of helping us move forward; they prop us up in our brokenness instead of helping us to heal. Have you ever healed from something? Healing hurts, but it's the only way to be whole, and I want to be whole and not broken.

I would love your encouragement and support. I don't need a watchdog to tell me how disappointed in me they are when I slip up, but I could use a few cheerleaders. If you volunteer I could bring brownies. ^_~