Wednesday, February 29, 2012
David Ridley
He was my therapist. He messed me up. I'm almost ready to talk about it. In the meantime, look at this screen shot. If you have been victimized by this man, please turn him in. Let me know, if you want. I can help.
Treadmill
Recently, I was in a group work-out session at my gym, and we had to get on the treadmill. I hate the treadmill, when the group leader directs it. She has us alternate fast and super fast, steep incline and super steep incline, and I just hate it so much. My legs hurt. I think I have the wrong shoes, but anyway.
So when she told us to get on the treadmills, I started panicking. I was terrified. I didn't want to do it. I thought it would kill me. I thought it would be too hard. I thought I couldn't do it. My brain was screaming things like "there's no way. This is going to suck so bad. This is going to hurt. I can't do this. I know I can't do this." and the group leader was saying "okay, I want everyone at speed 4, incline 2." and I was thinking "oh no, I can't do that, give me speed 2 incline 0- that I can do."
But of course I did what she asked.
And of course I did it. Then she started her alternating speeds/inclines and I tell you what, it was hard. It was legitimately hard work. I was sweating. I was almost crying (I'm such a wuss!). I was hurting. And when it was finally over, I got off the treadmill and I was fine. In fact, I felt fantastic. Look what I did! And now I feel so good.
It's this fear I have, this fear that's holding me back. I'm so afraid to get on the treadmill. I feel like I use so much mental energy on the IDEA of getting on the treadmill, that by the time I finally do, I'm already spent, I already want to give up. I'm now talking about my addictions. I think "I can't do this. This is going to hurt. I might do it wrong. There's no way. I can't do this," and I stand at the base of the treadmill, staring at it, feeling like I'm trying so hard to run, when really I'm trying so hard to talk myself into (or out of) running. If I would just shut up and get to work, I would actually get somewhere. And it would hurt and it would be hard, but then I would finish, and I'd feel fantastic.
How do I eliminate this crippling fear?
In better news, I believe that I am currently in the beginning stages of a 90 day abstinence. I can see myself, on June 2, 2012, driving the two-hour trip to the temple. I can hear the thoughts I'm having on that drive, thoughts of gratitude to my Father and my Savior, thoughts of excitement to be entering the temple for the first time in so long. I can feel my feelings. I am filled with joy, with humility, with love. I can see the CTR ring on my finger, the one that I'll have purchased for myself when I reached my 60 day mark (about Apr 28). I can see my bag of new temple clothing on the passenger seat. I can feel the longing for the peace of the Temple. I'm there. I can't wait.
I'll make it. Ninety Days. I'll make it.
So when she told us to get on the treadmills, I started panicking. I was terrified. I didn't want to do it. I thought it would kill me. I thought it would be too hard. I thought I couldn't do it. My brain was screaming things like "there's no way. This is going to suck so bad. This is going to hurt. I can't do this. I know I can't do this." and the group leader was saying "okay, I want everyone at speed 4, incline 2." and I was thinking "oh no, I can't do that, give me speed 2 incline 0- that I can do."
But of course I did what she asked.
And of course I did it. Then she started her alternating speeds/inclines and I tell you what, it was hard. It was legitimately hard work. I was sweating. I was almost crying (I'm such a wuss!). I was hurting. And when it was finally over, I got off the treadmill and I was fine. In fact, I felt fantastic. Look what I did! And now I feel so good.
It's this fear I have, this fear that's holding me back. I'm so afraid to get on the treadmill. I feel like I use so much mental energy on the IDEA of getting on the treadmill, that by the time I finally do, I'm already spent, I already want to give up. I'm now talking about my addictions. I think "I can't do this. This is going to hurt. I might do it wrong. There's no way. I can't do this," and I stand at the base of the treadmill, staring at it, feeling like I'm trying so hard to run, when really I'm trying so hard to talk myself into (or out of) running. If I would just shut up and get to work, I would actually get somewhere. And it would hurt and it would be hard, but then I would finish, and I'd feel fantastic.
How do I eliminate this crippling fear?
In better news, I believe that I am currently in the beginning stages of a 90 day abstinence. I can see myself, on June 2, 2012, driving the two-hour trip to the temple. I can hear the thoughts I'm having on that drive, thoughts of gratitude to my Father and my Savior, thoughts of excitement to be entering the temple for the first time in so long. I can feel my feelings. I am filled with joy, with humility, with love. I can see the CTR ring on my finger, the one that I'll have purchased for myself when I reached my 60 day mark (about Apr 28). I can see my bag of new temple clothing on the passenger seat. I can feel the longing for the peace of the Temple. I'm there. I can't wait.
I'll make it. Ninety Days. I'll make it.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Fortifications
I think I know what happened.
I wasn't overwhelmed this time. I wasn't sad. I wasn't worried or fearful. I was simply tempted. And I was unprepared.
I admit this with no small amount of shame. All week, I've been receiving reminders that I need to study my scriptures, that I need to open up my ARP workbook and work. And I've been ignoring those promptings. Had I followed them, I believe that I would have been sufficiently strong to overcome the temptations that bombarded me last night.
I'm so sorry.
Onward, friends. I am reminded of my son's example to me when, after making a very bad choice, he didn't lock himself up in his room and pout; he went to work. He cleaned almost the entire house, without being asked. I knew he was sorry because he was working hard for me and his sister (the victim). I need to show God that I am sorry by working. Not by pouting in my bedroom. Not by beating myself up. Not by limiting my natural joy. I am not ALL bad! I can have some joy because I do other things right.
But I can't ignore the bad choices. I'm not sure how to balance it all, but I'm going to do what I can. The next time temptation comes, I'll be prepared. I'm sick of this.
I wasn't overwhelmed this time. I wasn't sad. I wasn't worried or fearful. I was simply tempted. And I was unprepared.
I admit this with no small amount of shame. All week, I've been receiving reminders that I need to study my scriptures, that I need to open up my ARP workbook and work. And I've been ignoring those promptings. Had I followed them, I believe that I would have been sufficiently strong to overcome the temptations that bombarded me last night.
I'm so sorry.
Onward, friends. I am reminded of my son's example to me when, after making a very bad choice, he didn't lock himself up in his room and pout; he went to work. He cleaned almost the entire house, without being asked. I knew he was sorry because he was working hard for me and his sister (the victim). I need to show God that I am sorry by working. Not by pouting in my bedroom. Not by beating myself up. Not by limiting my natural joy. I am not ALL bad! I can have some joy because I do other things right.
But I can't ignore the bad choices. I'm not sure how to balance it all, but I'm going to do what I can. The next time temptation comes, I'll be prepared. I'm sick of this.
BALANCE
Balance is key. I pray for balance.
Right now, I'm trying to balance my emotions over this last slip up. Which was like an hour ago. In the big picture of things, my success is measurable. I am doing better.
But it's still a sin.
Which one do I look at? My progress or my failure?
I think it's time to get rid of my iPhone. I can't keep myself off it. It tried to block certain apps (like Google) but I can't figure out how. I think it's just time to regress back to a regular cell phone. I don't want to do it. I love my phone. But what's more important- having a phone that can do everything, or being pure?
I hate this. This is so frustrating!!!! I don't even like it anymore. I don't enjoy it. It's not enough. It's lame. I kept thinking "I really wish I wasn't doing this right now."
It came out of nowhere. I was fine. I don't know where it even came from.
I need to find out what happened.
I think for now I'll restrict in-app purchases. I think that will help. I hope it restricts free stuff too.
Right now, I'm trying to balance my emotions over this last slip up. Which was like an hour ago. In the big picture of things, my success is measurable. I am doing better.
But it's still a sin.
Which one do I look at? My progress or my failure?
I think it's time to get rid of my iPhone. I can't keep myself off it. It tried to block certain apps (like Google) but I can't figure out how. I think it's just time to regress back to a regular cell phone. I don't want to do it. I love my phone. But what's more important- having a phone that can do everything, or being pure?
I hate this. This is so frustrating!!!! I don't even like it anymore. I don't enjoy it. It's not enough. It's lame. I kept thinking "I really wish I wasn't doing this right now."
It came out of nowhere. I was fine. I don't know where it even came from.
I need to find out what happened.
I think for now I'll restrict in-app purchases. I think that will help. I hope it restricts free stuff too.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
It's 3 a.m. I must be lonely
I'm very tired.
It's been a while since I've posted here. Mostly that's due to a rather traumatic occurrence that came to a head about three days after my last post. All of my focus has been to recovery. I'm still recovering.
I am two beings. I am the addict, and I am the woman, the child of God. I have two lives. One of darkness and secrecy, of sin and filth, and the other of blessed beauty. It is said "you can't serve God and Mammon," but it appears that's exactly what I'm doing. Maybe not at the exact same time, though. I'm either serving one or the other at any given moment.
I hate January 2012. February isn't looking all that much better.
In case any of you have read my comments to some older posts, and have seen the name of one David Ridley, LMFT, I would strongly, urgently advise you to find any other therapist.
Back to my duality. I've got to become one person. This two-life thing is driving me crazy. I am so upset with the addict me. I don't need the addict me. Why is the addict me still a part of me? This is going to sound a bit schizophrenic, perhaps, but then perhaps if you are an addict, you'll understand exactly what I'm saying: we're very different, my addict and I. My addict loves lust and isn't uncomfortable with sexual conversations/thoughts/behaviors. My other me is completely different. My other me hates lust and loves virtue. How is it that we coexist? Which one is really me?
I made it 32 days this time. :(
Wishing will not make it so. I wish I was free of this hell.
Regrouping. Tomorrow will be better. And the next day. And so on.
It's been a while since I've posted here. Mostly that's due to a rather traumatic occurrence that came to a head about three days after my last post. All of my focus has been to recovery. I'm still recovering.
I am two beings. I am the addict, and I am the woman, the child of God. I have two lives. One of darkness and secrecy, of sin and filth, and the other of blessed beauty. It is said "you can't serve God and Mammon," but it appears that's exactly what I'm doing. Maybe not at the exact same time, though. I'm either serving one or the other at any given moment.
I hate January 2012. February isn't looking all that much better.
In case any of you have read my comments to some older posts, and have seen the name of one David Ridley, LMFT, I would strongly, urgently advise you to find any other therapist.
Back to my duality. I've got to become one person. This two-life thing is driving me crazy. I am so upset with the addict me. I don't need the addict me. Why is the addict me still a part of me? This is going to sound a bit schizophrenic, perhaps, but then perhaps if you are an addict, you'll understand exactly what I'm saying: we're very different, my addict and I. My addict loves lust and isn't uncomfortable with sexual conversations/thoughts/behaviors. My other me is completely different. My other me hates lust and loves virtue. How is it that we coexist? Which one is really me?
I made it 32 days this time. :(
Wishing will not make it so. I wish I was free of this hell.
Regrouping. Tomorrow will be better. And the next day. And so on.
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