Plates and Empowerment

I wasn't going to go to FHE tonight. Sometimes you  hit a point when various stresses in life make you want to stay home and eat popcorn while you lie on your bed in your pajama pants and stare at the ceiling. Tonight was one of those nights. I had a few people up and quit at work without any notice, I didn't feel like the training I had just given went particularly well, I have 8 reports due and only time to do 5, I have to hire 20+ people in the next day basically, I haven't been running for four days, I ate two donuts, today I had a bad hair day and my face is breaking out, a friend is mad at me over a misunderstanding and I don't know how to fix it, I got a parking ticket, that one stupid guy hasn't called me to ask me out yet... etc. etc. It just all seemed to pile up today. But I had to bring the treats. And my bishop has asked me attend FHE whenever I can because of my calling. 

So I went. 

Lawanna gave an inspired lesson on looking for the good in life and avoiding stress by not allowing it to be a priority in our lives. She of all people understands the feeling of extreme stress. I felt good at the end of that... but then Kirsti whipped out the plates. The "activity" tonight for FHE was this: we were supposed to write in permanent marker on these plates Kirsti bought from the dollar store. We were to express our fears, doubts, and stresses. We were to make this plate the outlet for our emotions. And then we were to take them in Cole's garage and smash them to tiny bits with a hammer. 

Instantly, I knew this was an activity for me. I believe very strongly in the power of physical catharsis. On the top of Mount Kilimanjaro I took two rocks, named them both after difficulties I was facing, and then hurled them from the top of the mountain and watched them shatter. Last Christmas, I recieved a lego plane set from a now ex-boyfriend as a gift. We spent a good amount of time sitting on his living room floor assembling it together. Around this time last year after our break-up I drove to the top of a 5 story parking structure in the dark of night and squealed as I threw the plane off the top and watched it smash in to hundred of pieces at the bottom. I kept the little lego man that came with the plane in my car for months as a reminder that sometimes a plane (read: relationships) will go down in flames, but it doesn't mean that the lego man (read: me) has to die with it. I will sometimes write a word or phrase that represents something that is bothering me on the bottom of my running shoes and then go out and sprint until the penned problem has worn off. I'm all about catharsis.

I instantly set to work, thinking about the biggest stresses in my life. I wrote them in dark red on my plate, taking my time. I whipped out my phone and took a picture of my plate when I was close to being done. Rest assured that many things were added to the plate after I took this picture... things that I don't feel like informing the entirety of my readers about. Most of the additions were specific instances or experiences that are currently causing me discomfort or confusion. Some were names. Some were simply emotions. 

Kari was the first to finish her plate. We all listened in silence as she walked out to Cole's garage. We heard a satisfying smash and saw a contented and victorious Kari walk back in. One by one, everyone took their turn. Nate yelled when he smashed his. Josh shut the door behind him to demolish his plate in private. Zoe's probably had the most satisfying crunch and clatter when it cracked. Randi yelped as her plate hit the floor. Julia chased down all the stray pieces of her plate and attacked each with a hammar with great thoroughness. Cole laughed as he left to take his turn in the garage, laughed as he pulverized his plate, and laughed as he walked back in. Kirsti wrote on her plate in Spanish and took a hammer to it with all the Latin passion she possesses (which is a lot, considering she's actually Norwegian.) Kase took by far the longest writing but made quick work of destroying his plate. Each crash was more satisfying than the last and we cheered and clapped and hooted from the living room. Everyone entered the room with a smile or a smirk. We exchanged high-fives and congratulations. 

When I took my turn, I rose from the table and held that cold plate to my chest. I walked out to the chilled garage and saw the plate fragments littering every corner of the floor. Michelle whispered "kill it, Lizzie" and I nodded, grinning. I stood on top of Derek's weight bench and in one fluid movement raised the plate high above my head and slammed it down with a resounding crash. The sound was thunderous and thrilling. I saw pieces bounce and explode as they met the cement. I grabbed the hammer and annihilated every piece that I could find until I was convinced that every inch of the plate was ground into tiny pieces. I stood, dusted myself off, brushed the hair away from my eyes and left the garage a new woman.  

We all helped clean up and then left with our backs slightly straighter, our shoulders slightly more square, our heads held slightly higher, our smiles slightly bigger.

After this experience, I went over to one of my closest friend's house for one of our "let's-put-our-lives-into-perspective" chats. We went out on a sonic run and drove around Provo as we discussed potential and patience and trust and all sorts of things. She pointed out multiple things that for me were earth shatteringly poignant and she helped me feel loved. As I drove home after spending a few hours with her, I realized how fulfilled and at ease I felt. I walked back in my house tonight and marveled at my life. I have a job that I absolutely love, I get paid to do that job that I absolutely love, I get to work with incredible people that trust and love me, I am respected and appreciated by those that work above me, I am healthy enough to run for 8 miles straight, I can eat whatever I like, I feel happy and pretty in my own skin, my friendships last through misunderstandings, I have people in my life that are shaping the person I'm becoming, I have friends that build me up and inspire me to be better, I am surrounded by people that love me, I have an incredible family and I have a relationship with a Heavenly Father. ... and that stupid guy will call eventually so I should just stop worrying about it. 

There is something about taking control of a situation and dismissing depressive thoughts that come directly from a being hell-bent on making us miserable that is incredible relieving. "Old Scratch" as he is sometimes called works tirelessly to convince us that we are not enough, that we lack ability, that the divine help that we think we have is all for naught. He attempts to trick us in to thinking that he, not us, is in control. He tries to persuade us that we are hopeless and alone. As I stared at the words on that plate, I realized something. They are just words. And the fear and pain associated with each originates from a powerless and pitiful source. They are nothing to me. And I stood in a divine body capable of movement and expression with a mind proficient in making inspired decisions that will ultimately lead me back to a place of light and understanding and love, I realized how easy it is to excuse and disregard the despicable. These words on my plate when met with my strength and conviction became nothing more than dust to be thrown out with tomorrow's trash. I'm left unshackled and unburdened because I am yoked to a perfect porter who relieves me of a load that I am unable to bear alone. Satan has nothing to do with this process, so I'll ask him to stay out of it.

Did you ever think a smashed plate could teach you all of that? Probably the best FHE I've been to in my life.