One Baby Step

Well I finally got myself an appointment with a counselor. My first appointment is in 2 weeks. I am actually looking forward to it, a little. I really need help, I need to figure out what is in my brain that is driving me to this repetition of self destruction. I have a lot of childhood issues I need to talk to someone about. My childhood was mostly great with a few dark, dark points. I've hidden those points in the cobwebbed corners of my consciousness because I'd convinced myself they don't matter. Now, I'm starting to believe otherwise. Maybe they do matter. Maybe my feelings do count.

Even if those events have nothing or little to do with my addiction (though they seem like they just may be directly related), it'll be helpful in other ways to work them out I think.

I'm also very nervous. I was so nervous walking in today and making the appointment. I blurted out some speedy introduction (I'll tell you exactly what it was: "I'm a relatively normal person with issues I'd like to work out. Do you offer services for people like me?" it was really fast) and said many stupid things in effort to hide my embarrassment, but as a result, only enhanced it. Luckily, the place I went had no openings in that site, but plenty at another site, so I may never have to see that kind receptionist again.

So that part is over. I think my initial appointment will be difficult. But talking to strangers is easier for me than talking to people I love, at least about heavy issues, so it may not be so bad. I hope I only need it a few weeks.

I hope, with all my heart, that it helps.

anxiety

I'm still carrying that rock in the pit of my stomach from the last time I ran to the camp of the enemy. I feel so sick. I look at the picture of Jesus at my computer and I feel so sick. I'm sorry for what I've done to You. Even though this always happens, I'm sorry. Even though I've said it before, I'm sorry.

I really don't want to be on time to church today. I just can't believe last Sunday's experience wasn't enough to inspire good behavior. I didn't even think about it though.

It's a massive stone taking up space in my stomach and its releasing a poison through my blood veins through my entire body. And I don't know if I can even talk to my bishop this time. I mean, I will. I know I will; I always do. It's just so much worse this time and I have a little something more to confess that I'd rather not. Ever. To anyone.

I need this out of my life.

On Friendship, and Preparation

Proverbs 27:9 Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart: so doth the sweetness of a man’s friend by hearty counsel.

I'm not a friendly person. I take that back. I'm sufficiently friendly. I'm even nice. I'm just not all that personable. I have one good friend, and I'm happy with that. I love her with all my heart, and she is there for me. But . . . she doesn't know about this. It's embarrassing, you know. I've never been the social type. I don't enjoy the journey of making friends. And so, I have very few. The bad thing about that is, I don't have a lot of people to talk to about important things. I'm learning that friendship is important. Relationships are vital. And I'm missing out.

Though I wouldn't delegate him a friend in the way we think of most friends, the above verse applies at this time to a mostly-stranger, but someone who is, because of his "hearty counsel," a dear friend. Here's something he told me today, something that applies to each of you who are reading or ever will read this blog: "You are a choice [child] of God, as such, you are worth so much more than this world has to offer in the ways of joy and happiness, sullied or pure."

He's right. I am worth more than the world's pitiful offerings. I'm God's daughter. Even in the depths, in the rusted chains, of sin, I have great worth. If I could just see that all the time, perhaps, as this friend suggested in a comment, I wouldn't feel the need to treat myself like a worthless particle by participating in vile, destructive behavior.

It's hard to see that worth though, when, as a child, I was shunned by my peers. When, as a child, my feelings were meaningless to my parents, as was evident to me, the child, when I was promptly scolded simply for crying. It's hard to see that worth when, as a youth, only some emotions were ok. Like when someone died, I could be sad. But, even then, I scarcely dared cry in the presence of my parents, or siblings- not for fear of how they'd react, but for fear of how they wouldn't react. I remember at my grandpa's funeral, I was 18, and I was shattered. All my tears had to be so private. And I remember as my cousin passed my grandfather's dead body, she had a public little meltdown. And I was so embarrassed and afraid for her, but then her mom, my aunt, scooped her into her breast and whispered compassionately in her ear, and I was so jealous that it was okay for her to feel however she felt. I've never had the compassionate arm of a parent wrapped around me.

But, that was childhood. I should be over that. Then I got married. And when I cried, he yelled. Or laughed. Or simply ignored. So I stopped crying. Even my best friend aforementioned has never seen me cry. And I'm a girl! :)

I have never been allowed to feel. My feelings have never counted. Never mattered. And so, yeah, it's hard to see that worth in me.

I intended for this to be a short post. Haha. Guess I had more to say than I thought.

And so, friendship is hard to come by; I've been trained all these years to hide and ignore my own emotions. But now I see how much I'm missing. If I had the encouragement of friends, close friends, I could beat this. I mean, I will anyway, with or without, but thanks to the hearty counsel of this commenter, I am learning how sweet it is to have someone rooting for you, someone who's not mocking me for feeling. Friend, I thank you.

And on Preparation:
I'm like the Lamanites in Alma 58. There were tons of 'em. They outnumbered the Nephites by a lot. They wanted to overtake some cities and kill some Nephites and they thought they had this one in the bag. The Nephite warriors were starving. The government had not been keeping up on provisions. So, not only were they fewer in number than the Lamanites, they were also weak. The Lamanites had all the food they could possibly need. So the Nephite leaders prayed. And they were assured that the Lord would, yet again, deliver them. They tricked the Lamanites and defeated them. Twice, really. The first time, the Lamanites were like, mah, it's a fluke. We'll get 'em tomorrow. But they were tricked again.

The Lamanites weren't prepared. They assumed that it would be an easy win. Easy. They assumed that they were ok. They didn't prepare, because a lion doesn't have to prepare to defeat a mouse, you know? The Nephites, on the other hand, despite their glaringly obvious disadvantage, prepared for war. They knew they were severely outnumbered. They knew the Lamanites had strength and energy from food. Yet, they prepared, as if they could be saved, regardless of the unlikelihood, nay, the very impossibility, of such a victory.

I hated these boring war stories in the Book of Mormon till this year.

I want to be the Nephites. I want to go against my enemy and his legions as if I can. I want to go against the sin in my face, with all its power, against all my weakness, as if I can conquer it. I want to prepare for this war as if I can win it. Because I can, I already know I can. It's just that I doubt it every so often, because I don't always remember that I'm worth the fight it will take to get me through, to get me past the overwhelming odds against me.

But I'm tired of being the Lamanites, who don't prepare because they think they're good enough, who don't rely on the Lord because they think they're good enough.

I just now saw that contradiction. I do forget to rely on the Lord because I start to believe I'm ok. At the same time, I rarely believe I'm good enough.

Yeah, I don't get it either. Anyway. I'm still pretty put out about this last incident. It was worse than usual, much worse. I slapped my Savior across the face with this one. Here's hoping it was that "rock bottom" where people turn around for good.

liar

that's me. happy thankgsiving to me. maybe it's just too hard. maybe i'll never get it. maybe i'm only pretending to try. maybe i'd be happier if i just gave up.

i don't believe any of that.

maybe i will conquer. so. in case that's true, i'll keep trying i think.

i just want to die today. my son said he dreamed we were in a star wars wii game and he stabbed me. i kinda want to be stabbed.

very honestly, i used to cut myself. i told you i'm a mess. i severely lack coping skills. it was a habit of sorts. whenever i felt anxiety i'd release it through the breaking of my skin. it wasn't as bad as some of those people you hear about cutting their wrists. i would barely barely break the skin and just release only a little bit of blood. but it worked. but anyway i was addicted. and i haven't done it in years. and i am 99% certain i will never do it again.

that sad story gives me hope. but right now i don't deserve hope.

i am low now, so low, sick, despicable. and yet, from my God, all I feel is love. Distance, yes, because of the fact I just ran from Him full speed into the darkness of our enemy. But love.

God forgive me, God forgive me, God forgive me! Again.

Here and Now

The temptation is real. Right now. I will not yield.

I've now given my word the world, though only a few will ever know it. I will NOT yield!

Conference Talk

I was just reading "Cleansing the Inner Vessel," a talk by Pres. Boyd K Packer from this last conference. This very talk is the one the caused all the controversy and managed to get dear Pres. Packer labeled a "bully."

Well. This talk is inspiring. Very. But I have some questions about it. Pres. Packer says the Priesthood can heal those who are entangled in sins of immorality, specifically pornography. Is this limited to those who hold the Power? For example: "Priesthood holders carry with them the antidote to remove the terrible images of pornography and to wash away guilt." The part I'm interested in is where it says "remove the terrible images of pornography." How literally is this to be taken? Remove the images from where? Our minds? I've held pornographic images in my mind for, like, a decade. I'm not saying I remember every image I've ever seen; I certainly don't. But many of them never go away. And then they appear in before my consciousness of a sudden, and uninvited, and I hate them! I feel the shame of my sin when I see them during a clean time. Sometimes, they serve as a temptation. Sometimes, as a reminder of who I have become. Sometimes, I am so sickened that I have partaken in this great evil-- the people in these "images" are PEOPLE. They are children of God. And look what they're doing to themselves! It makes me so sad. What must have happened in their lives to inspire them to advertise their bodies in this way? And I know I am no better. I perpetuate it. I am a reason they treat their bodies and spirits so disrespectfully. Shoot, I treat their bodies the same way.

These people have parents. Some have kids. They're people. I'm so sad for them. I'm aware of that striking contradiction. I don't understand how I worry for their souls but I support their damnation.

Anyway. Those images I always thought I would never be able to fully expel. But, here, Pres. Packer is saying those images can be removed. Does he mean from our minds, memories? I WANT THAT! How do I get that? He said "Priesthood holders carry with them the antidote . . ." but what about us women? Can we share in that antidote? How do we get it? I'm not just going to ask a Priesthood Holder if he'll remove the pornographic images from my memory.

But what a great tool that would be, to have those memories banished! Really, how literally is this statement to be taken?

Also: "If one is obedient, the priesthood can show how to break a habit and even erase an addiction." Again, there is no HOW. I know that I have as much right to Priesthood power as any man. I know that. I have seen its effects in my life and I know its power is not limited to men. But what I don't know, is HOW can the Priesthood show ME how to break a habit and erase an addiction. Erase an addiction! Erase it, like an eraser erases pencils markings? So it's totally gone? Forever?

I must know, how can the Priesthood do this for me?

The Sacrament

So remember that last time I screwed up? Well, I still haven't talked to my bishop about it. To be very honest, I have no idea if I'm supposed to talk to him every single time. But I usually do. I feel like I'm not fully repenting if I'm not confessing. So, generally, I withhold from the Sacrament until I've confessed, and sometimes even after depending on how I feel and what he says.

Usually, I'm late on purpose, so I can miss the passing of the sacred emblems. Or, if I'm feeling the need to be on time, I get there on time but I sit somewhere where it's easier to pass on the Sacrament, like maybe in the foyer if I don't have the kids, or on a smaller pew where people will scarcely notice whether I partake or not.

I admit these things with shame. It doesn't matter what man thinks. Only what God thinks. It doesn't matter if Bro. Jones sees my refusal of the Bread and Water and assumes instantly that I'm a whore. It doesn't matter if Sis. Jackson sees my refusal and assumes that I must be a horrible mother. For one, ours is a kind and merciful church, and these scenarios are so unlikely. Also, even if it was likely, what they think doesn't matter. And I know this. And usually, I accept it.

But, usually, I'm squeezed somewhere between pews and people.

Today, I was a little late, but not late enough to have missed the Sacrament. I peeked into the chapel during the announcements and found a spot in the 2nd pew. I thought I could handle that during the sacrament, except it was right by Sis. Peck and I did NOT want her of all people to notice my unworthiness. But there was another spot behind her. I don't have my kids this weekend so it's just me. So I went to sit behind her, but when I got there I noticed all the remaining space was filled with books and stuff, probably to save it for the rest of a family. So I resigned to sitting next to Sis. Peck. But I found the same next to her. Well the entire front pew was empty. But there I sat, in the empty front pew, directly in view of the primary president who was sitting on the stand(today was the primary program and I am a primary teacher). She smiled at me.

The announcements were done and we were singing the Sacrament Hymn. I almost took off. I thought I would just to sit in the foyer till the Sacrament was over. I felt so exposed! Everyone would notice! I'd be one of the first people to be offered the Sacrament, and I'd certainly be the first to reject it. The humiliation was overwhelming. Every time I don't partake, I'm embarrassed. I'm sad that my actions have led to this consequence. But, never do I remember the humiliation I felt today.

During the hymn, so many things went through my mind. I should just leave. Maybe I should just take the sacrament this time so Sis. Primary President doesn't think I'm an unworthy teacher. Yeah, maybe I'm okay taking the bread and water this time. Maybe I don't have to confess every time. I know I want the Spirit with me and that I can remember Jesus through the week- maybe I'll just take it this time. No, I can't, so I have to go, but, I have to go up to the stand right after the Sacrament anyway for the primary program.

I wanted to disappear.

I did wonder at that time, why I was letting the fear of others' judgment get to me. I worry that their perception of me matters more to me than God's. I told myself, my salvation is NOT in their hands, but in God's. And come what may, I am not worthy today to partake of the flesh and blood of my Savior. And that's what's important. My worthiness, nay, my lack thereof. Not my spiritual appearance, but my actual spiritual health.

And so, when the sweet deacon offered me the trays, I put my head down and my open palm up toward the trays that represented my Savior's offering to me, the offering for which I'd previously shown Him I'm unprepared, and thereby of which I am unworthy. And I quietly wept with so much shame. Shame for my sins. Shame that I was perhaps more embarrassed to be avoiding the Sacrament with eyes on me than I was to have sinned in the first place.

The Sacrament is personal. My attitude, not my actions, made it public. I hope that makes sense.

After I'd made my decision to not partake unworthily, the Lord worked on my thoughts a little, I think. I began to realize that while my ward is awesome, and I love them, I'm just passing through here. These people, most of them, will step out of my life at some point, and I out of theirs, in just the natural courses of lives. Not that they don't mean anything, but we're all just passing through. God is the greater goal. In one year, ten years, a hundred years, the thoughts and possible judgments of those around me on Nov 21 2010 simply won't matter. I'm just passing through.

Even so, passing up the offering of the Sacrament will never be pleasant, and it never should be. It will never and should never be easy. I think I had become a little too comfortable with it, and so for today, I thank my God for allowing me to be in a place so uncomfortable and humiliating and exposed to remind me that being unworthy of this gift is uncomfortable and humiliating, and that I should be so ashamed, but in the presence of God.

It was horrible! It was an awful experience, and I'm so grateful for it, and I hope and pray that I remember it, that I remember the feelings that overcame me then, when I'm faced with desires that may overcome me. I never want to repeat what happened today. I never want to be unworthy of the Sacrament again.

Next week, I'll be worthy. And the week after, and the week after, and the week after. All through December, I'll be worthy. It'll be my Christmas present to Jesus.

Almost

Tonight, just a bit ago, I almost gave in. The temptation surprised me. I had a great day. I had a really great day. Everything went so smoothly at work, and at my kids' schools, and we all had a wonderful evening together. The attacks on my spirit aren't as prevalent on good days. So, yeah, it took me by surprise.

I wanted it so bad. OH MY GOODNESS. The desires were eating at my flesh. It was like an itch, one of those really bad, biting, instant itches that you have to scratch right away.

But. I didn't scratch. Actually, let's put it this way. I started to scratch, but only for a tiny moment, and not nearly enough to satisfy the urgent itch.

But then I remembered "I the Lord am bound when ye do what I say. But when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise." I haven't recalled that verse in quite a while. But it repeated in my head, competing with the images I wanted to see and the feelings I wanted to feel. I the Lord am bound when ye do what I say. I also remembered how I want to worthily partake of the Sacrament. I also remembered the recent encouragement of a new friend. All these things to compete with my flesh.

Then I cried, and prayed the itch away. As soon as I called out to my Father, he was there. The more I asked for His help, the stronger I became.

Why does He want to save me? I mean.... I guess I know why. "This is my work and my glory . . ." etc. I guess I don't really know what I'm asking. I'm astonished at His long-suffering. I stand all amazed at His love! He was there. He was there as soon as I called. He took away that itch and replaced it with a reminder of who I seek to become.

I must really mean something to Him.

When I think of how close I came to failing my goal of making it through the year (and month, even!!), I'm crestfallen. But when I think of how my Savior Saved me after I'd jumped into the pit I'd dug myself, I rejoice.

I must really mean something to Him.

Welcome

I have a follower.

I'm at once flattered and concerned. I was enjoying the probability that no one ever reads this. I think I kinda hoped I wouldn't have any readers till I've won the war!

But, then, the war won't be won till I'm dead.

So. Welcome, follower. May you follow my blog only, and not my example. (And may you discover that I'm not a creepy blog-stalker, since I know my blog-stalking is how you found me.)

And yet....

I was wrong.

The cloud came. The darkness flooded. I failed to put on the armor of God.

O, God! O my Father! When wilt Thou purge my soul?

Just as I predicted, just as always, that depression came over for a visit. It's still here. I anticipate another week or so before it leaves.

I didn't even read my scriptures that day. How could I be so dumb? I knew it was coming, and I neglected my spiritual needs! I think that any other time of the month, skipping a day of scripture study wouldn't have had such dire results. And I'm not even saying that if I had read that I would have been able to withstand the temptation. But, it sure was a risky thing to do. Skip that on a day when I should have known I'd need it most. I'm sure my failure to read contributed to my FAILURE in general. Because, by small and simple things are great things brought to pass.

It's just sick that I opened up that door I swore I never again would. How can I believe in myself when I've proven myself untrustworthy? On that note, why make new promises now when I know I won't necessarily keep them?

I didn't even make it a month this time. I was supposed to go longer.

But . . . it was 3 weeks. Which is still longer than custom.

Whatever, Erin, there is nothing to congratulate here. Nothing.

I even fasted, TWICE, since my last time, both times for strength and will to overcome this sin-prison. I even felt great enough to go the temple last week! Why wasn't THAT enough for extra strength through a dark time?

Choices.

One of my friends had been going on about some famous guy I'd never heard of so I looked up his picture to see what he looks like. There was this one image of him, which wasn't particularly offensive, nor was it anything I'm ever attracted to, but it sent my mind buzzing. Then the whole, "I just wanna see a pic of such-and-such happening, that's it." "Oh, now I just need to see this image. But that's all. Then I'll go to bed." "Oh, wait, I wonder if this search has any results, I'm just gonna check, then I'll go to bed." And so the lies went until I gave into the flesh, after which I promptly felt like crap.

It's been a few days now and I still feel like whacking my head repeatedly against a solid surface. I still feel like screaming and ripping apart my insides. I still feel like a failure. I still feel like I let my Savior down, and I know I did.

But, I know He loves me still. I know He wants me with Him still. I know there's a place for me still. A place with my Father, with my Savior, with my loved ones. And while I live, I must still strive to fill that place.

Jesus lives. God lives. They love me.

A different direction:
I was so sensitive to porn for most of my life. It repulsed me a great deal. Then I found a blank video tape in my then-husband's possession that I played while he was gone. It was totally innocent. I had no idea he would have anything like that; I thought the video would be home movies or something. No. It was disgusting porn, a bunch of young drunk naked idiots messing around.

I wanted to throw up. I shook and cried and felt so sick. I confronted my ex about it and he made up some lie and said he'd take care of it.

The images I saw for maybe 2 seconds repeated, uninvited, in my head. A week or so later, I found a blank tape in the bedroom. I was certain my ex wouldn't be so careless as to leave it there again. But, I had to know if he was still watching porn. So I put it in. And it was still nasty porn. But I was so overcome with curiosity, that I watched it a little longer. Again, my ex lied about it, and I never saw the tape again.

And that's how it began. After our divorce, those images played again through my mind. I still remember that first snippet of video, and it's been about a decade.

That being said, knowing how easy it is to get into this stuff which now binds me in this self-created, self-perpetuated hell, I'm terrified for my children. All it takes is one time. And now, they're saying most kids are exposed to porn by the age of 10. How can I protect my kids when I'm in it myself?

is it easier?

I've been doing better, much better. Not so long ago, I was experiencing episodes of sin fewer than two weeks apart. I'm doing much better now.

But it's not easier. I think that's important to know. It's not easier. I'm just stronger. I'm stronger because I've done the things I'm supposed to do. I've listened to my bishop. I've listened to the promptings of the Spirit. I've been working very hard at choosing well. And I'm stronger.

I'm smiling. I'm really stronger! By the grace of God, I've gained strength! He has come through on His promises! When I do what He says, He is there for me.

Pornography still appeals to me. So does that thing it leads to, which word I'm afraid to use even on a blog no one ever reads. I get so lonely sometimes. When I was married, I really did love that special, intimate part of it. And I miss it a great deal. And so all that stuff certainly appeals to me still. It just doesn't matter as much anymore. Lately.

I feel like God has come to my rescue, I really do. I know I've mentioned it before, but, I wouldn't be here now without Him. I realize I haven't made it all that far. I haven't even lasted more than a month without engaging in porn, and that's pretty pitiful! That's pretty lousy! But it's progress, progress I haven't had in a very long time. Because my Savior has come to rescue me. You know what? He's always been trying to rescue me. I just took His hand this time. And now He's leading me back to our Father, up a steep and rocky path, a hard path, a difficult climb. But what's a few rocks and inclines when Jesus is at your side?

Mah. Nothin.

And so, the path is the same as it used to be. I'm just stronger now. And, more willing. I used to be so threatened by the path because it just might be hard. I'm not afraid of that anymore.

The Lord IS my Shepherd.

Fasting

I'm still doing alright! I'd like to make it to the end of the year without another slip-up. That's only 2 months. So I can do that. That's not to say that after that, I'll give into all my carnal desires. I expect that after 2 months of abstaining from my favorite sins, I'll have better learned to tame and restrain said carnal desires.

I'm only a little worried. I don't have that resolve I had before, where I was sure that I'd shut that door on evil. I hate to admit, that I am no longer so sure. I wish for the return of that resolve.

However, I'm continuing to make better choices.

The last time I failed, I realized that I hadn't fasted in quite some time. Oh, I skip a meal and sometimes two when Fast Sunday rolls around. But I hate it. I hate fasting. My efforts were weak; not efforts at all. I'd mumble a prayer in my head and call it my fasting prayer and then eat way before 24 hours had passed. I hadn't had a real fast since before I was pregnant with my first kid.

So, after the last time I gave in to the Devil, I fasted. A real fast.

And now, since it's Fast Sunday tomorrow, I'm fasting again. I can do it. This is henceforth going to be normal behavior for me.

The Spirit was whispering to me before I messed up, whispering that I need to fast. I wish I'd listened before my fall.

But here I am, fasting, praying, reading my scriptures. Adding a little bit at a time. that's why I'm going to come off conqueror.

Today I went to the temple for the first time in a very long time. I also don't enjoy going to the temple. I always think it's about 3 hours I could be doing something else. Of course, I never regret it. I love the peace I find there. While I am worthy, I must go.

Every so often -- actually, every month -- I have a little episode of depression. Sometimes it's not little. I think I may have PMDD. But when I'm down like that, depressed, I lose faith, I lose will because I lose passion. I get to a point where I don't care if I go to Hell because that's what I deserve anyway. And that's usually when I give in. I can feel it creeping into me now. I can feel the senseless anxiety and the unwarranted hopelessness begin and deep loneliness. And I'm not sure how to guard against it. I've finally accepted that I can't stop it. But perhaps I can steel myself and prepare myself sufficiently and guard myself spiritually insomuch that I will make it through without giving control to my flesh. Because it always ends. It's always so real and important, but it always ends.

I won't give in. That dark cloud is coming now, and I won't give in.

I'm so grateful that God has come to rescue me, has sent His Son to rescue me.