No Coincidences

Tag: anxiety

  • Response to Depression

    Response to Depression

    On April 11, 2020 Beth posted a thoughtful and vulnerable post about depression. She really put herself out there talking about something that is sensitive for her. I was proud of her for writing it. It’s still one of the most read posts from my blog.

    It was the 10th post ever put on my blog. It was so early in my blog that I didn’t even put a cover image for it.

    I recently went back to read that post and decided, 4 years later, and after 5 years of marriage, that I would like to write my thoughts on her post and the topic of depression. This will be a difficult post to write because, even after these years, I’m still grappling with my understanding of depression – what it means, how it manifests, my role in it, along with all the other complexities that come with depression.

    I’m going to pull quotes from Beth’s post and give my thoughts.

    In her post, Beth said this:

    “Sometimes in frustration, I just want to sum it up as “if you know, you know” and call it good. But that is not enough. Individuals, family members, institutions, others with depression need to know.”

    I definitely need to know. Because I don’t understand it. And that’s hard for me.

    I am married to Beth. I’ve seen depression. I can kind of understand it. And yet, I don’t. I know I don’t. I don’t get it. And that’s hard for me. It’s hard for me to try to understand something that I don’t know where to begin understanding.

    With me… I may upset some people with depression here until you hear my explanation (or maybe even with my explanation) – depression is being sad and not wanting to get up or do anything. That’s my impression of it because I’ve experienced that. What I haven’t experienced is actually not being able to get out of bed. I don’t understand that. I don’t get it. That’s the reason I don’t understand depression. I just can’t relate to it. That doesn’t mean I don’t think it exists. It’s just something I have a hard time framing because it’s not in my personal experience. We have tons of examples of things we can’t understand because we haven’t seen or experienced them ourselves. I’ll dive into an example later on in this post. It’s hard to understand something you have zero personal frame of reference for.

    I must be clear here. I’m not saying I’m not empathetic or sympathetic to the challenge of physically not being able to get out of bed. I desperately hope I am sympathetic to it. I hope that I’ve showed my wife at least some of the support and understanding she needs through her challenges.

    What I’m saying is that I don’t understand it, I don’t get it.

    I hope if you’re experiencing depression and you’re in a close relationship with someone (parent, sibling, friend, significant other, etc.) who doesn’t understand it, that you can have patience with them as we have patience with you. Not understanding doesn’t always mean not caring or not believing it’s real or that it exists. It can sometimes mean really just not getting it, as much as we want to. I think sometimes it’s as hard for a non-depressed person to understand depression as it is for a person with depression to describe what it’s like to a non-depressed person. This is exactly what Beth is talking about in the above quote.

    Next quote I’d like to comment on from Beth’s post –

    “For me, it is not a weight laying heavily on me. I don’t feel like the people in the commercials that have a dark rain cloud following over their head wherever they go.”

    Beth is referring to what her depression is like to her. This struck me. It may seem silly, but as someone who hasn’t experienced “depression” (I don’t think) I kind of assumed it was all the same. Beth reminded me that just like anxiety and fear and all the other plethora of challenges we face in this life, no two people have the exact same experience. Depression for everyone must be unique to everyone. I’d venture to guess that one person with depression might have as much difficulty understanding another person’s version of depression as I have with understanding it at all.

    I think it’s important to remember that this challenge comes in many shapes and forms and to have patience with everyone and their unique circumstance.

    This is where I bring myself into it to try to understand and sympathize better.

    I struggle with anxiety. It’s not something I talk about a whole lot. I think I treat it like Beth treats depression: with a little bit of embarrassment and avoidance. But now I’m an adult. I’m no longer a scared and confused kid. I’m still sometimes scared and confused, but no longer a kid. I now realize that lots of people struggle with anxiety. It’s not something to be ashamed of.

    Beth and I have talked about depression and anxiety together. She talks about depression which, as I noted, I don’t understand. Then when I try to explain how anxiety manifests in me, I see the confusion descend upon her like the aforementioned cloud of depression. She can’t figure out what I’m talking about. She’ll say outright, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Do I take offense to this? Of course not! She hasn’t experienced it. I return to my point earlier – people experiencing depression: don’t blame or get upset with others that don’t understand what you’re going through. Your depression is unique to you. Don’t mistake lack of understanding for lack of caring or believing.

    “Eventually, when you’re in the midst of a depressive episode, you begin to convince yourself that this is the new you. You will never be successful again. You will be a burden and failure for the rest of your life. I was very lucky to never feel like I wanted to end my life but, with feelings like that, it isn’t difficult for me to see how people get there.”

    When I read that, it breaks my heart. When I read that it helps me to remember that this is a real and difficult challenge despite my lack of understanding. I can’t comprehend the idea of taking my own life. I think this is similar to how I don’t comprehend depression. I hope anyone reading this that, like me, struggles with understanding the dynamics and impact of depression on someone’s life, can read that quote and realize how serious this is. In whatever ways depression can feel “unreal” – suicide is not. Suicide is very, very real. We must have sympathy, love, compassion, patience, and as much understanding as we can possibly have to help those in our lives that have depression-like feelings. It can save a life.

    “So why don’t you just get up? Go on a hike, play a game, talk to someone, you’ll feel better.”

    This is my way of thinking.

    “I ask, can you still support me and sympathize with me even if you can’t understand? While that seems like a fair compromise, I still think I can try to help others get a glimpse of my perspective. We can meet in the middle.”

    I reiterate my point made earlier. We can try to understand. Those with depression, we only ask that you try to understand that often we without depression really are trying to understand and sympathize. It’s hard to understand something you can’t comprehend. It’s the catch-22 of sympathy. We sympathize, but ultimately, we can’t understand. If we understood, we’d know. All we can do is our best. Have patience with us as we have patience with you.

    “Sometimes that means lowering expectations for a while. Sometimes that means just learning to listen instead of feeling like you must come up with the solution.”

    This is the part I struggle with the most. I’m the standard guy who wants to fix things. Just listening doesn’t seem productive. I’ve tried over the course of my marriage to be better at this part. Listening. Beth will have to comment on whether or not I have gotten better at this. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.

    I also struggle with lowering expectations. I’m not sure how to best say this without sounding insensitive but deep down inside I feel like lowering expectations for someone isn’t the answer. I coach basketball and deciding I don’t expect much from my players doesn’t seem like a great answer. In Beth’s whole post, that’s probably the line I most struggled with.

    “While my depression has been well controlled for years now, it’s never truly gone. It can sneak in when I least expect it. I make sure to take my medication daily and be mindful of triggers and warning signs. I try to be vocal with my husband when I feel it creeping in.”

    I’ve been married to Beth for over 5 years now. In that time, I’ve seen the warning signs. I can see when something is coming. I can see when Beth is starting to not be herself. Usually she is short with me, impatient with the girls and I, little things seem to put her on edge, and then there are hours of sleep.

    I guess I have lowered my expectations in the moment. But my way of thinking is so much that aforementioned – “Get up and fight through it”… I can’t help but wonder if lowering expectations is the right thing. Is the best thing to do to let a person with depression lie in bed for hours and days at a time? I’m not sure it is. I’m not sure we’re supposed to lower expectations.

    That said, that’s what I’ve done. In those moments I’ve tried to let Beth know I love her and I’m there for her and I give her the time to “come back.” Usually this is only for a day or two. A day or two where Beth doesn’t leave her room and I take care of the girls, the house, and the responsibilities. If it were more than a day or two, with everything we have going on, I’m not sure I could make it happen.

    This is difficult. It’s made more difficult for my lack of understanding.

    I can usually tell when Beth hasn’t taken her medication. It’s a bit disarming to immediately see the results of this. It’s a palpable and obvious difference. With lack of understanding it’s hard for me to understand how this can so drastically shift behavior so quickly. And yet… when I’m tired, how quickly does my demeanor, patience levels, and personality change?

    I know so little about the body and how it functions. What do I know? I know nothing.

    Ultimately, I have to rely on something bigger for understanding. I’ll close this post in much a similar way to how Beth ended her post 4 years ago. My understanding of God, this life, and His plan makes these things more understandable. We’re here to be tested. We’re here to go through tests that we don’t understand, to test our faith. We’re here to grow. Every challenge in our life is an opportunity to grow. I believe Beth’s depression is an opportunity for her to learn about herself and to become something so much more. I believe her depression is also a part of my mortal experience. It’s meant to teach me something important.

    I hope I’m still learning something important. I hope I’m always patient and understanding and helpful. I hope Beth knows she can always trust me to be there to make up the difference. I also hope Beth knows she’s always good enough.

    The hardest part, I think, about being married to someone with depression is seeing someone smart, and strong, and brave, and kind, and patient, and talented – think she is not those things. There have been many times that I’ve had to remind Beth that just because she doesn’t feel like those things in a particular moment – she is still those things. She will always be those things. They are more innate to her personality and being than depression is.

  • Facing Death

    Facing Death

    “We need to wait for a helicopter.  It’s 2 hours by road to the nearest hospital.  You might have internal bleeding in your brain.  You might die before we could get you there.” 

    I was in the back of an ambulance for the first time.  It’s an interesting thing to wonder if you’re being melodramatic about dying and then being told by an EMT that you might die.  It becomes a real possibility, if it wasn’t already. 

    My family rented ATVs over the weekend.  We rented a cabin and stayed in Duck Creek, near Cedar City, Utah.  We had the ATVs for four hours.  My family went out first while Beth and I stayed at the cabin with Ivy.  Then Beth and I swapped in for my mom and sister. 

    There were nine of us total and three ATVs.  Two of the ATVs held four people and one of them held two.  When Beth and I swapped in I drove with Beth in the front seat, my dad and brother in the back seat.  We drove to Mammoth caves and explored.  After 30 or so minutes looking at the caves, we went back to the ATVs to off road for our last 90 minutes before the ATVs had to be returned. 

    Moments before the accident

    Beth hadn’t driven so we made her drive.  My brother Garrick and his girlfriend Arielle rode in the back.  We reminded Beth that if you’re not flipping the ATV you’re not trying.  My uncle Jon led in the two-seater and my brother Dresdan drove the other four-seater behind them.  We took up the rear so Beth could go at her own pace and not feel the pressure of Dresdan bearing down on her.

    I had one glove off because I was eating airheads from my pocket. Beth was driving as cautiously as expected and the other two vehicles got ahead of us.  I had a thought cross my mind: ‘I bet it would be safer to have no seatbelt on.  It would probably be safer to be thrown out of this thing than stuck and crushed inside of it.’  I did have my seatbelt on.  That thought I had was undoubtedly wrong.

    I’ll describe what I remember next.  Then I’ll tell the whole story from the perspective of those who stayed conscious throughout. 

    We were coming up on a turn.  We were not going that fast.  I had driven with much more reckless abandon when I was behind the wheel.  We came up on this turn and Beth began to break and then we started to tip.

    The next thing I remember was feeling pinned down and stuck.  I couldn’t see anything.  But I was stuck.  My arm couldn’t move.  I believe I started yelling.

    The next thing I remember was the feeling of flipping over.

    I still couldn’t see anything. 

    The next thing I remember was hearing crying and screaming from Beth.  I told her I was going to be ok.  It was going to be ok.  I still couldn’t see anything.

    The next thing I remember was moving.  Jon was in the driver’s seat next to me.  Someone was behind me holding something down firmly on my head. 

    It is fascinating how the brain works in moments of trauma.  How was I thinking so clearly?

    I asked if an ambulance was called and was told yes.  It occurred to me, we drove way out into these trails.  We were at least 30 minutes from anything.  I asked who was behind me.  Dresdan.  It crossed my mind: the firmer whatever is on my head is being pressed down, the more likely I am to survive.  I asked Dresdan to push down harder.  He did, and it hurt.  I asked him to push down less hard.  I put my hand up and held it myself and asked Dresdan to support on top of my hand.  I felt him start checking my neck and spine with his other hand.  I put my right, gloved hand out the window and started flexing my fingers.  I was tapping my legs repeatedly.  I was acutely aware of the importance of staying awake.

    I was staring through the windshield and thought I saw a crack.  I stared harder and realized there was no crack, my vision was getting blurry.  I was so tired.  I told Jon and Dresdan that my vision was getting blurry and I was very tired.  I told Dresdan to talk to me.  He said something to me, and I can’t remember what it was.  It wasn’t a conversation starter.  I put my hand on Jon’s leg and squeezed.  He put his hand on mine and held it.  I asked Dresdan about the book I’d given him to read.  He told me it was good and that I’d really like the one he gave me for Christmas.  I talked about the book he had just read briefly, then got quiet.  I was awake enough.

    I asked Dresdan to give me a blessing.  It was too loud.  He would have to yell it.  The talking I’d already done had made my head throb.  I asked him to quietly give me a priesthood blessing. 

    I’ve always wondered how I would react at the prospect of death. It’s easy to say you don’t fear dying but what about when you actually might die?

    I’ve always hoped there would be no fear, just faith.

    On a destroyed ATV, soaked in my own blood, I learned the answer.  I wasn’t afraid to die.  While I wasn’t afraid to die something kept coming to my mind on repeat.  My daughter is 6 weeks old.  I want to see her again.  Beth was driving, she can’t live with this guilt.  I love my daughter more than anything in the world, I need to see her again.  I love Beth so much and can’t have her live with this pain.  I want to see my daughter again.  I love my wife. 

    Beth’s cries in that moment of blackness were in my mind.  I could hear her grief.  Could she live with this?  I might die.  Probably not.  I was conscious.  I was awake.  Dresdan was keeping pressure on the wound.  I would be fine.

    But what if I wasn’t?

    In that moment I confirmed what I’d always known.  The two most important things in this world are God and family.  In that moment I prayed relentlessly.  I believe the blessing and my prayers kept me awake.  What else mattered in that moment but God and my family?

    Nothing.

    I wanted to see my mom again, I wanted to see my dad again, I wanted to see my brothers and sisters.  More than anything I wanted to see Ivy again.  It hit me, maybe I wouldn’t.  I realized, just in case, I should say something that needed to be said.  I told Jon he had to tell Beth that I was ok, and it wasn’t her fault.  It was an accident. 

    We came to a crossroads in the trail.  I remembered where we had come from and told Jon.  Adie and Jared drove up in the two-seater and told Jon to follow them to the main road.

    We got out to a main street and started driving.  We came to an intersection and there was the ambulance.  We pulled into a dirt lot.  I was surrounded by people I didn’t know.  I was asked a lot of questions.  They cut my clothes off of me and told me not to move my neck if I could help it.  I was able to get my seatbelt off.  They asked if I could get to the stretcher.  I said I could with some help.  I took the couple steps to the stretcher and they buckled me in.  As I was taken to the ambulance, I saw Beth.  Her eye was extremely swollen.  She said she was ok.  I was put into the ambulance.

    This is where our story started.  The EMT told me I might die.

    Oh.

    Ok.

    It was real then.

    Still no fear.  Maybe that’s natural.  Maybe the panic and shock takes precedence.  I don’t know, I’ve only almost died this one time.  The main EMT was a young blond guy. I asked him,  “Are you a member of the church, you know, we’re in Utah right?”

    He told me he wasn’t, he was raised in the church but had distanced himself from it.  We had a conversation about the comfort I felt having that hope.  He told me that hope was a powerful thing.  He told me that hope told me that even if I died today, I would see my daughter again.  He told me the other EMT in the ambulance was a member of the church.

    I was told we had to wait for a helicopter.  The drive was too long.  I might die on the way.  We had to wait.  I was tapping my toes repeatedly.  I was doing it to stay awake.  I asked the EMT, Aidan, if it was ok.  He said it was a panic response, my anxiety was high.  He said it was natural, but if I could take some deep breaths and calm my body, that would help.

    I haven’t been meditating all this time for nothing.

    I took a few deep breaths and felt my body relax.  He said my vitals (I don’t know, blood pressure?) improved and I was looking good.

    They asked if I wanted my clothes that they’d cut off thrown out.  I told them my garment top was there and it needed to be disposed of properly.  Every person I saw from then on got the message that my garment top was present, and it was important it went with me.

    The helicopter arrived and I was airlifted to the hospital.  I asked the man sitting with me in the helicopter if he was a member of the church.  He said he was just Christian.  I told him we were part of the same family.  He said he loves to discuss the differences.  Oh, if I could have gotten his phone number.

    In the ambulance they gave me pain medicine.  What a difference that made.  I was also told it was ok to sleep.  I don’t know if I slept, I’m sure I at least dozed off.

    At one point the man nudged me and told me we were going over Zion.  I turned my head best I could and looked out.  My first helicopter ride could have been better.  Wasn’t the worst, though.

    I arrived at the hospital and was wheeled in.

    I can’t emphasize enough how kind every person was to me.

    From Aidan, the first person I saw at the ambulance, to the helicopter, to the hospital.  Every person treated me with love.

    The next bit is a blur, so much happened.

    I was given more pain medicine, my skull was numbed, they tried as best they could to clean out the wound in my head and arm, I did x-rays and a CT scan.

    At one point a nurse told me something I did not want to hear.  She tried to see if I wanted to hear it and I misunderstood and got much more information than I wanted.  She could see my skull.  Cool.

    Eventually they determined I didn’t need surgery.  Everything was good.  They could staple me up.

    The doctor counted 51 staples in my head, I counted 52.  He said it wasn’t often they had to use a whole stapler.  I was released the same day.

    Sounds like it wasn’t that bad, right?  You should see me now.  My head has been leaking for three straight days and my shoulder is pretty morbid.  I’ll put some pictures at the bottom for the sickos in the audience. 

    It all ended up being fine.  I lived.  I’m fine.

    I should have died. If a couple things didn’t happen I wouldn’t have survived. 

    The parts that you (and I) missed.  Apparently when the ATV flipped, my brother who was sitting back and to the left of me saw my body.  He thought I was literally drowning in a pool of my blood.

    The other two ATVs had stopped.  They said something about knowing that was a slippery turn and wanting to wait.  If the other two ATVs had gone on, I’m almost sure I would have died.  Them stopping was the difference between me bleeding out in a tipped over ATV and living.

    I firmly believe that I am protected by angels.  Not just that day, but every day.  I tell Beth often that God won’t take me a minute sooner than is my time.  I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that angels resided with me that day.  I know the others were prompted by the spirit to stay.  They were feet away when we flipped.

    It is difficult to get a group of 8 people to do anything in a quick and organized fashion.  Set aside the panic and fear that might have set in.  I’ve never been more proud of my family than when I heard the steps they took to save my life. 

    My brother-in-law Jared heard me yelling and thought I was crushed.  Every male in the group, my dad, Jon, Garrick, Dresdan, Jared and Easton immediately grabbed the ATV and flipped it over.  Jon got in to drive.  Dresdan got in behind me to keep pressure on my head.  I learned later that Easton was in my ATV also. 

    Adie and Jared jumped in the two person ATV and drove off to get cell reception to call an ambulance.

    The others got in the other ATV.  Initially they were going to drive ahead also.  Someone realized, since the other ATV had flipped, it might have an issue driving.  They drove behind us the whole way in case the ATV I was still seat-belted into broke down.

    Can you believe that?  In minutes, every person in my family did exactly what was necessary.  Without a moment’s hesitation they saved me.

    The doctors at the hospital told me they couldn’t believe I still had my right arm.  They told me they’d seen a ton of these accidents and almost every time the person’s arm is destroyed or gone.  They said if I’d reached out my arm would be gone.  I think the airhead I was eating might have played a part in saving my arm.

    God and family.

    It’s weird to look back on nearly dying.

    I’m amazed at the peace I could feel in what should have been a terrifying moment.  I knew if I was meant to die, I would.  The only thing that mattered to me was that my wife knew I loved her and it absolutely, positively, was not her fault.

    Leaving Ivy would have hurt.  It would have hurt.  It would have hurt.  It would have hurt.  But I know that she would have been so loved.

    I know what’s important in this life.  I’m grateful for trials and scary moments to reaffirm what I know.

    God and family.

    To all those that have prayed for me, thank you.

    To the Hollerbach’s, thank you for sending us food the night we drove back from Utah.

    Beth has been off the charts amazing since the accident.  She is currently caring for a newborn and someone with a traumatic head injury.  She drove us back from Utah, 7 hours, the very next day.  I just wanted to get home.

    Ivy slept the entire way.  We had to wake her for the two stops to feed her.  She would get back in her car seat and zonk out.  God has blessed me with so much.

    I feel it necessary, because Ivy will read this one day, to say something to her.

    To my sweet girl when you were born my world stopped revolving around the sun.  When I thought I might die, you were my first thought.  I hope you never doubt how much I love you.  You and your mom are the most important things in the world to me.  Never doubt it.  Because I did come close the other day.  I know what’s important.  I love you, Ivy.  I love my family and I can’t say enough how grateful I am for them.

    God and family.

    The pictures below are kind of gross. View them at your own risk. I’ll keep the pictures I wish I never saw private.

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  • The Social Dilemma (Netflix)

    The Social Dilemma (Netflix)

    What is truth?

    How do we know?

    If you haven’t watched The Social Dilemma on Netflix, watch it as soon as possible.  Could end up being the most important documentary of our generation.  Given that we are the generation of documentaries, that would make it the most important documentary ever.

    Why is this documentary important?  Because it’s real and it’s happening now. 

    What will be the downfall of America?  Have we given Civil War enough consideration?

    Let’s do a quick thought experiment.  What happens if Donald Trump wins the election this November?  There will be 165 million mad people.  Mad enough, maybe, to protest, riot, and maybe fight.

    What happens if Joe Biden wins the election in November?  There will be 165 million mad people.  Mad enough, maybe, to protest, riot, and maybe fight.

    Of course, 165 million people is an exaggeration because not everybody is this passionate, or angry, or inflamed about the upcoming election.

    Let’s call the number 30 million on each side.  Sound much better?

    Why is this happening?  Why are people always so angry?

    There is an increasing gap between what we would deem the “center.”  Center of anything.  Not overly passionate about one side or the other.  I’m not just talking about politics.  I’m talking about anything.  The middle is gone.  The “hear the other side,” “hear them out,” “hear their opinions,” are disappearing.  We’re turning into a world of people who think we know everything while not knowing anything.

    So much from The Social Dilemma gave me an intense feeling of anxiety.  One statistic mentioned was that a study showed lies are spread on the internet/social media 6 times more quickly than truths.  What happens if a lie always has a 6x head start on the truth?  What happens is what we’re seeing happen.  Contention.  Hatred.  Vitriol.  Anger.  Confusion.  Aggression.  Fighting.

    This brings me to the most important point.

    What is truth?

    Can we even know what truth is?

    Truth is a concept society is starting to wonder exists.  How do we find something our society is starting to believe is a myth?

    This is where I turn off all my non-religious friends, but I would ask my non-religious friends:  What is your truth?  What do you turn to when everything around you is chaos, and confusion, and darkness?

    I don’t say this to spread the divide more.  I say this to invite others to find truth and make that truth love-based at all costs. 

    I love God because He loved me first.

    What is truth?

    God is truth. 

    He’s my truth.  Maybe He isn’t yours.  But you must find a truth to hold to dearly.  This truth must be centered on love.  We’ve seen what hate-filled “truth” results in.

    How do we survive in an age of disinformation?

    What do we do to protect ourselves?

    I think first we follow all the suggestions given during the credits of The Social Dilemma documentary.  I will list those here and then add my own suggestions.

    1. Uninstall apps from your phone that waste your time.
      • Hint: most of them.
    2. Turn off notifications.  Especially for anything that vibrates your leg that doesn’t provide an immediate and important alert you need to see at that moment.
    3. Use a search engines besides Google.
    4. Never watch a video recommended to you anywhere:  Facebook, Youtube, etc.  If it’s not something you went there to search for and to watch, just don’t watch it.
      • Wayyyyy easier said than done (but let’s all try!)
    5. Use a Chrome extension to remove recommendations.  Below are some options.
    6. Before you share anything online, fact check, consider the source, do the extra research (make sure it is GOOD).
      • If it looks like it’s designed to push your emotional buttons, it probably is.  Don’t share it.
    7. You vote with your clicks.  If you click on clickbate you’re perpetuating the problem.  Reward GOOD material.
    8. Get different kinds of information.
      • If you are on Twitter, add people who have different opinions from you.
      • Talk to people in the real world about real issues.
      • When you find enough people in the real world to talk to, delete your Twitter.
    9. Delete the social media accounts you really don’t need, that you don’t feel are healthy, that are taking you away from life.  Delete it and embrace the freedom!
    10. Get out of the system.
    11. The World is beautiful.  Live.

    For Families:

    1. Don’t give devices to your children.  Don’t allow them on social media.  Just don’t.
    2. Minimal screen time.
      • Set a limit and stick to it.  It was suggested to ask your child what they think is a good amount of time to spend looking at a screen each day.  Your child will often give a reasonable response.
      • Create that limit and then give rewards for going under it.  Set a 7 hour per week limit for screen time and your child spent 6 hours?  1-hour reward is a bowling trip or mini golf outing.  I used to love incentives like these as a kid.  I hope kids still do.
    3. No devices in the bedroom a set amount of time before bedtime. This will also help with sleep because you’re removing blue light which signals to your brain that it’s time to wind down.
      • Here’s a suggestion – read a book instead of your phone!
    4. Treat Social Media how Latter-day Saints treat dating – not before 16.

    Here are my suggestions.  If you can- delete it all.  Just do it.  I can almost promise you’ll feel better within a couple weeks, after the withdrawals stop.

    Me personally, I have a Facebook.  I use it so I can share my blog.  It’s good to have.  I see the use.  I’m working on limiting my scrolling down my timeline to zero and especially not watching suggested videos in my feed.  Suggested videos inevitably lead me to watching video after video of garbage material.

    Another thing that has helped me a ton has been moving the Facebook app from my main page.  I have it on page two.  That way I’m not constantly slapped in the face by that addictive, dopamine-igniting red alert symbol.  I have my Gospel Library on my home screen and if I find myself instinctively (or robotically) looking at my phone I do my best to open the scriptures and read those instead. 

    I understand all these things are easier said than done.  It’s not easy to delete social media.  It’s not easy, I get it.  I’m right there with you.  Technology is so good.  It can be used for so much good.  Why don’t we start using it for good again? 

    That brings me to my last point.

    My final and most important point.  What can we do to make a difference:  Share GOOD stuff. 

    Emphasis on GOOD MATERIAL.

    By good material I don’t mean you like it, or it tickled your fancy.  I mean it is GOOD.  It is wholesome.  It is kind.  It doesn’t make you explosively emotional but makes you feel gentle in your emotions. I mean good as in the good guided by the spirit.  I mean good as in loving.  I mean good as in spreading positivity. 

    I’m guilty like everyone else.  I see a post from the Church, and I scroll right through.  The AI (artificial intelligence) involved sees that (how scary is that?!).  They know I scrolled quickly past something GOOD.  We each need to make a conscious effort to spend time on the good stuff.  Read the good stuff.  Watch the good stuff.  If you don’t have good stuff on your Facebook timeline, use AI for good!  Go to google and search for Jesus Christ, the scriptures, conference talks, missionary messages.  You know how when you search for that cute new jacket for winter and there are suddenly cute winter jackets on your timeline?  Works the same way for good stuff.  Search for good stuff.  You’ll see more good stuff.  Spend more time with the good stuff. 

    This is how we can combat and fight the echo chamber of hatred.  This is how we remove political polarization.  This is how we remove lies.

    In the steps above I mentioned fact-checking what you share.  How about this? Spiritually check what you share.  Stop.  Say a prayer.  Ask yourself if what you’re sharing is spreading goodness, positivity, or love. If not, it can be deleted.

    I often pray before I write, and I often pray before I share what I write.  I always hope what I write is guided by something bigger and better than me. 

    Spiritually check everything you do online.  Is this making me a better person?  No.  Get it out of here.  Could this make someone’s day, bring a smile, alter someone for the better – SHARE IT. 

    This is what we can do.  This is how we can make a difference.

    I don’t ever say like and share on my blog posts because it’s become such a stupid thing to say.  But we need to say it for the things that deserve it.  Maybe we should change it to “LIKE AND SHARE GOODNESS.”

    So, if you think this was worth reading, did something positive for you, or helped you in any way, please share it.

    We can all do our part by sharing goodness.

    You can join the discussion and learn more about the Social Dilemma documentary at TheSocialDilemma.com

    I think this is important and I think it should be something we all start thinking about.  Let’s start thinking about it.  Let’s start doing our part.