::pack:: of fixations

life after tragedy. living while grieving. love and triplets.


Remember when

I often get on here because I feel inspired & I want to write about stuff.  But a lot of times I never finish what I've started.  But tonight the song "Remember When" came on my spotify, have you ever heard it?  I have an awful habit of listening to the same song over and over (& over) again, until I become sick of it.  "Remember When" is a song I listened to over and over again when Colum was still alive, towards the end of his life.  There aren't a ton of memories I have of that time, for it was only a mere 18 months. 

I want to write down a few things that have happened since I wrote on here last. 

I recently waxed an Occupational Therapist.  I can only assume this, but I think she was a bit surprised that I actually knew what an Occupational Therapist was when she told me what her profession was.  We carried on for quite awhile actually before we found the strong connection we had in common.  First off she has twin daughters, my triplet daughter's age.  It's always a crazy connection to share with other Mom's; multiples are something you have to truly experience to truly understand.  I always love meeting Mom's of multiples because we can genuinely bond spontaneously without much else.  Then I asked where she worked and she said the U... that's our hospital.  I then immediately asked if she knew Darcy; our Darcy. 

She almost jumped and cried intermittently.  "You're Kelly Pack!", she shouted, "I can't believe your name didn't click until now".  We both had heavy tears welling up in our eyes.  It turned out that she actually hired Darcy.  Who is Darcy you ask?  Darcy was both Ryan and I's OT while we were in rehab.  We both had many great people taking care of us while we were recovering, but there was just something about Darcy you guys (insert crying emoji). 

Darcy, has a bright light.  She just can't help it.  Darcy was always happy.  She was always happy despite working in such a depressing place such as rehab.  Darcy would observe her patients all while maintaining a broad smile sprawling a crossed her face.  She'd observe what our needs were and then she'd go the extra mile... always.  She'd go home after work and sew little Velcro contraptions for Ryan and myself so we could do simple things like brush our teeth.  She'd sew little straps we could wrap around our broken hands so we could strap a fork in and even feed ourselves.  She drove down to our old house in American Fork so she could scope out the place (Idk if this is normal or not for an OT) and told our family and friends the crucial things we needed in order to be able to learn to live independently, such as commodes, wheelchair ramps, and shower chairs.  She would contact companies and try and get us the best deals on all our handicap essentials.  She gave us a gameplan and in that game plan, she gave us hope.  Darcy, will forever be my friend.  Darcy loved us. 
Darcy has the brightest light out of anyone in that entire hospital.  Darcy possesses magical powers that span from her positivity.  Darcy is a fairy.  Darcy is a wizard. 

The first Christmas after the triplets were born, one of the VERY best humans I've ever met (Angela Keddington), made a couple of Christmas trees for a local charity called "the festival of trees".  She made one for Colum and one for baby Norah.  The trees are sold and all the proceeds are donated to Primary Children's Hospital.  When I first saw Colum's, Toy Story themed Christmas tree I began to sob.  I later learned that Darcy, was the one who purchased our tree.  I really don't think there could've been a more perfect person to have it! 

I remember feeling so comfortable crying in front of her.  I remember that the only reason I even tried to get dressed in rehab some mornings (it was extremely painful and always wanted to just give up) was because I wanted to make Darcy proud.  I wanted to go the extra mile because Darcy was going the extra mile for me.  Darcy would sometimes wipe my bum for me and was there when my catheter leaked all over my male stripper pants during therapies. 

Thank you Darcy!  You made such a difference in our world Honey!


I recently watched Wonder Woman with the kids.  Such a great movie!  I remember sporting (hand-me-down (gross)) Wonder Woman underwear as a kid. Up until recently, I used to picture my "shield" as a bright light that surrounded me, blocking negativity off as much as possible like a magical bubble. Now, after watching Wonder Woman I have "wonder woman" bracelet armor things instead.  I am flinging my wrists, blocking jabs when I have to, not taking things personally.  But then sometimes my arms suddenly get tired and I stop and have to ask myself, "why am I having to block so much from this person?".  The important change I've recently made in my life is to tell Ryan about whom and what my wrist armor is blocking.  I used to stand it alone.  But then eventually I'd lose my shit over what looked like nothing.  I know that I shouldn't put myself in situations that I have to "block" so much from people.  I understand how simple the solution to this problem is, heck I practice it often. I've been searching myself for answers and to be honest I think that sometimes the people that I have to block the most from are ironically the M0ST entertaining to me. I've also taken a personality test recently where I've tested "I have to feel entertained to survive".  I've figured it out!  I have to feel entertained to survive you guys.  (I also have to feel attractive to survive)...  Fun fact: Ryan also has to feel entertained in order to survive...ha!  Maybe, that's why we get along so well!!!

Here's the test, please tell me what you are!




Strike 2 happened when I lived in Denver.  I was a waitress at a Mexican restaurant & in Colorado it was legal for minors to serve alcohol.  A common question asked by customers was what beers we had on tap.  I’d name off “Bud, Bud Light, Coors,... Flat Tire”.  In case you don’t know, it’s Fat Tire, not Flat.  It was a dead giveaway I was Mormon.  My friend & I had no idea what happy hour even was.

A gray haired British man dining in my section called me out on calling it Flat tire one day.  He asked me where I was from & if indeed I was Mormon.  After a few exchanges he laughed & said, “I don’t care what Brigham Young says, I think that you are a nice girl”.  I thanked him although I had no idea what he was even talking about at the time.  (I didn’t really know until 10 years later, but I never did forget it).

I also worked on the beauty side at Victoria Secret.  The manager asked me if I’d be interested in a job while we shared a bench one day.  That same manager later found out that I was Mormon & asked why Mormons used to not baptize African Americans.  I didn’t recall knowing anything about that, because that isn’t what I was taught by my church leaders.

Strike 3 happened after I had moved back to Utah.  Ryan & I were dating pretty seriously and we were sitting on a porch in the summer with a few friends.  Becky was a girl I knew of from school that was a few grades older than me.  “I’m not going to be Mormon because I think that polygamy in heaven is bullshit!”, she said.  I made her repeat what she said just soI knew for sure that I was hearing her correctly.  I had no idea that my precious religion’s doctorine still had anything to do with plural wives.  I was in complete & utter shock.  I felt betrayed & even lied to.

My “friend” that used to do my eyelashes drove up to the hospital & did my extensions on my hospital bed before Colum’s viewing.  I remember my Mom & MIL were in the room when she coldly asked me in a judgmental sort of tone, “So... what do you believe?”.  I awkwardly replied, “uh, I don’t know...more scientific stuff I guess”.  She didn’t even look at me when she said, “well you better figure it out pretty quick”.  I knew what I believed.  But I also knew how Mormons think & I didn’t want to scare them.   Or maybe I just didn’t want to feel religiously shamed at that moment.  My heart was broken as well as my entire body.  I’m wondering if my “friend” knew that my dad “blessed” our kids without asking us.  Maybe she thought it was a great idea just in case I came back to Mormonism & made myself worthy enough to raise Colum in heaven.  That way I could maybe get sealed to him.

That’s what Mormons believe.  If you lose a child you must keep yourself worthy by attending church meetings, carry a temple recommend, pay 10% of your gross earnings in tithing, so that you can get to the Celestial kingdom & be able to raise him after you die.  All of those things sound awful to me.  I also get really confused about what’s happening in the meantime.  Is Colum waiting for me in some sort of orphanage looking down hoping I pay the money?  I just don’t believe any of that.  I think it just instills more fear & devalues grief.

A few days later I called & talked to my eyelash friend.  I called her out on what she did & how she already knew what I believed.  She denied everything & sobbed as I explained to her just how hard it was to leave the church.  I compared it to coming out of the closet.  I told her that it took me over 10 years to stop feeling guilty about it. It’s annoying to me that since we were in Utah not being Mormon, I was always out numbered.  Women (that leave) specifically are labeled as either possessed by Satan or crazy.  I’ll take crazy I guess😜.  Mostly because not being Mormon makes me crazy happy😜!

A few years ago I read a book called “Under The Banner of Heaven”.  This book is about a couple brother’s killing spree that happened in my hometown (coincidentally) in the early 80’s.  What inspired these killings was a pamphlet written by a man named Udney Hay Jacob in 1842 called “The Peace Maker”.  Unfortunately Udney was a sexist asshole & in this document he writes that women are their husbands property & also introduces justifications polygamy (for the very first time).  He writes that men should treat their wives like dogs & husbands should beat their wives like they do their dogs.  This document listed Joseph Smith as the printer.  You can actually google it.  When I read the book I was shocked because Jacob is my maiden name, & Udney is my relative.  In reading about abuse I’ve learned that it’s a cycle passed down from one generation to another.  Udney was clearly abusive.  When I think about the abuse that this man possibly started in my own family it knocks my breath out of my chest.  But when I think about stopping the cycle myself I can breathe freely again.

I used to be to scared to write what my true beliefs were.  I have no idea if most of my readers are Mormon or not but I assume a lot of you are.  I think that it’s important that if you are Mormon & you’re reading what happened to me, that you really take in my perspective.  I’m not possessed.  I’m not evil or crazy.  I was scared to write my truth, because I have felt so much shame for leaving.  Maybe you can be more mindful to others like myself.  Maybe you can break the cycle.

Update: I’ve been meaning to raise our price for my parents to see us to $10,000 per hour FYI


Strike 1

If you told me only but a year ago that I’d be writing what I’ve wriiten in the past couple of months I wouldn’t believe you.  But what I’m about to write now is another side of my story.  Please proceed with caution.  I don’t write this to offend anyone’s beliefs.  This is just my story.  My TRUE story.

I grew up in American Fork, Utah.  My parents home (I may refer to it as Hell, because that’s what my version of Hell looks like), is in a culdesac.  I’ve painted a picture for you of what my self worth looked like but just want to reiterate that I had none.  I always had boyfriends, well I tried to because it helped keep me going; it meant that at least one person loved me.

Our Bishop in our ward lived directly across from my parents in the culdesac, as well as most of my Young Women leaders.  Young Women’s is part of church for girls starting at age 12 & goes until 18.  I was MIA Maid president at the time.  It was the only time I was ever anything in Young Women’s, primarily because the leaders choose the president & then the teenage president(s) choose their counselors.  And none of the presidents ever chose me, because (of course) I was mean girled at church too lol.  My leaders would wave to me multiple times a day as they’d see me driving to & from school & work etc.  I genuinely liked them because I thought that they were sincerely nice to me.

In church I was taught repentance.  There were certain “sins” that needed to be discussed with your bishop, sex being one of them.  I had sinned with my Narcissistic boyfriend 5 times (+ the one time I was raped).  The very first time it happened (for 2 seconds; 12 seconds all together if we are doing the math (wink wink)), I immediately started to sob.  I sobbed because sex was so disappointing & I knew I’d have to tell my Bishop for 2 seconds of nothingness.  I intermittently proposed to my boyfriend with pre-ejaculation issues because my life would be over if he didn’t marry me. No one would want something “used”.  I waited a couple of months as I built up my teenage courage to repent to my bishop who lived in our same culdesac (& his wife was one of my young women leaders).  I knew a girl who repented for having sex with her boyfriend & she had to go before a huge council of old men & tell them all about her slutty transgressions.  It’s funny looking back at this now because I’m realizing that our boyfriends did none of this.  To say I was terrified was an understatement.  But, I was always told that your bishop was sworn to secrecy, so at least my parents would never ever find out.

In my Bishop’s office I repented of my sins.  I was crying so hard that he probably couldn’t understand me very well.  His reaction was nothing like I expected.  He looked at me sternly & almost seemed angry with me.  He asked what ward my boyfriend was in & what his name was & that was all.  I was a bit relieved that I didn’t have to stop taking the Sacrament or go sit at a large table with 10-15 old men & tell them what a slut I was.  Every Sunday my bishop would glare angrily at me from the stage/pulpit (idk what it’s called).  It confused me because I did what I was supposed to do.  I did exactly what I was taught.  The repentance process wasn’t consistent across the board from all the horror stories I’d heard all about growing up from other girls.

The biggest change though wasn’t my Bishop’s utter disappointment, it was the women.  Within 48 hours all of them stopped waving to me.  One of their daughters wouldn’t even say hi back to me in the halls at church.  For years I thought that it must just be some crazy coincidence because I believed & trusted what I had been taught my entire life.  But deep down I knew that he told his wife & that she had told all of her friends.  What Would Jesus Do?  What would Jesus’ wife do?

There’s a common saying amongst Mormons in Utah County anyway that goes, “it’s not the religion, it’s the people”.  Meaning that you can’t stop believing in the religion because there are a few bad people in there.  But for me, him being my bishop (called by God for a 4 year term), her being my young women’s leader (also called by God), it seems that maybe the religion made them that way.  I named this post strike 1 because that’s what it represents to me.  This was my Strike 1 of me being out.