Messages from the Past

Here are some poems that remind me of a place I never want to see again, poems that I wrote when I was in the depths of darkness.





No Title
God, O God, my Father,
Can't You feel my inside screams
Bursting outward, upward, forward
Through a megaphone of sin?
Can't You see my face discolored
By my heart's unending tears
Do You not hear the desparation
of my crumbling, wearied soul?
I'm tired of this! Tired
of the constant, blunt reminders
Uninvited invitations
to my chosen mortal vice
God, O God, my Father
Is there more hopeful a conclusion
Than -- Why give to Thee this day
When tomorrow I must fail?
2.27.08

Amen to Donne

It is woven within my being,
This sin.
A parasite, it seems, of sun
And dreams.
It is to me as plant to soil.
I can’t
Expunge my soul, O God, forgive
My fraud
Forgive my fraud! And yet, hold off
(Regret
Is well but cannot stay my hand
A day)
Until the hour Thou wilt banish
My guilt
By taking this my fav’rite sin—
My grave—
And accomplices; thought, desire
I’ve fought
With tireless hope; avails me not.
Assails
Still, this sin, O God! And for what?
So, God,
My Father, take away this plague!
I say,
Unweave my fibers, change my heart!
Derange
My days. *O’erthrow and bend, for Thou
Dost mend
As yet, but batter my heart! For I
Will fly
Only as Thou restraineth my wings.
4.29.09

*adapted from John Donne's Holy Sonnet XIV

Live
Sometimes I think I'd hold her face
In bath water
Until her terror is defeated
Deflated.
Instead I think I'd free her heart
With sharpest steel
Until her body is all rested
Released
From unseen shackles.

But then my soul would fall
And fall and fall and fall
And so I let her be
Imprisoned by myself.
12.13.10

Shackles
Shackled to the floor
Which now starts sinking swiftly
I ask me how I got here
But I know.
The Dark scrapes the last of the
Light that is inside me
And thrusts it to the empty
Black below.
Spin, spinning, spinning
This never-ending rerun
Yesterday I did this; I guess
I’ll never grow.
The Dark thwarts my screaming
And scorns, “you can’t be free, son,
"For all your sins, I own you,
"You should know.”
A light through a pinhole
Way up in the distance
Tells me freedom’s somewhere;
Dare I hope?
A whisper just beside me
Of merciful persistence
“Look up; I’ll release you
“Take my rope.”
Oh, God in Heaven!
How is it that You’re still here
When everything I’ve done
Mocks Your grace?
I’m spinning, spinning, spinning
Yet You say “I love you still, Son,
“Come walk my path and now
“Behold my face.”

(I think I need to add one more part here. And, yes, I know I'm not a "Son," but it's easier to rhyme with. :))

"User Dream"

I discovered through By the Light of Grace's post "User Dreams" that 1) I have these! and 2) it's normal! Awesome.

Last night, the night of my 6th week mark, I had the worst one that I have ever had. Of course I won't go into detail here, but let it suffice to say that it was graphic, lengthy, highly detailed, and very realistic. All of my senses were very active during this dream. In it, I was doing some horrible things. After, while still dreaming, I felt awful. I was wondering how I would tell my bishop, how I would tell my sponsor, what my next blog post would be like.

I carried the weight of sin. It was dark and depressing and heavy, just as it would be if I'd really done the thing. I was beating myself up, wondering how could I have ruined my streak in that way. Then I woke, still feeling horrible until I realized it had all been a dream! OH SWEET RELIEF!

Sadly, the images my brain created for me, about me, are sticking to my consciousness like paint, and have been showcasing regular reminders throughout the day. Ugghh, make it go, make it go!

I feel like the battle will still be long, but I am hopeful I'm through the hardest part. I am breathing again, and that is a wonderful miracle.

Well this is my last post of my 30 day run! It's so weird! Thanks SO MUCH for reading, for bearing my burdens, rejoicing in my victories, and supporting me through it all!

The Power of Music

Those near and dear to me, and even those who are merely acquaintances, know that I love music. My profession and hobbies have something to do with music. I love it. Music lifts and heals me.

Now, I have always loved music. But, these last few months, God has connected me with music nearly every day, in a big way. I'm starting to wonder if it was to help me out of this addiction. I am surrounded, daily, by beautiful, inspiring music! Music of the Great Composers, or music of Americana with inspiring lyrics, or delightful ditties... music all around me. Also, He has recently made it known to me that I can write music. Oh, and how good it feels to create.

Music is a gift from God, and, like most gifts from God, can also manipulated by the Adversary, and become a tool of the devil. Music, I believe, is fundamentally good! And it must be, in order for Satan to twist it for his own use. Aren't all of his lies a twisted version of the Truth?

The lie usually seems easier, and often seems more enjoyable. But, as is the case in all of his lies, the Truth is far more beautiful than the lie. Sometimes it seems easier to listen to the music that inspires anger and fear. It is alluring because it can make the listener feel validated. But, music is so powerful that it can alter one's mood! Why would I choose to feed my mood with anger and hate and bitterness?

When I choose to listen to music that will enrich my soul as opposed to music that will keep or bring me down, I am empowered! I always have a song in my head. It has recently come to my attention that this isn't true for everyone, and I can't imagine having a songless mind at any moment! How is it even possible? It's so weird to me! ha. Anyway, when I listen to good, inspiring music, I have good, inspiring music playing in my head. Over the past few months, I have come to recognize the power this gives me.

I'm not saying there is not value to a sad song. Often, there is a beauty to melancholy, particularly in a haunting, minor melody. However, lately, I have been choosing to rise above melancholy, and have been using music to facilitate that.

I'm amazed by the power it has on shaping my day, my attitude, my very choices.

Thank you, God, for leading me on a path that brought me to a place of constant, beautiful music.

It seems to me that my Heavenly Father really, genuinely wants me to be happy, free, and His. He must think I'm pretty special.

In my head now is this beautiful piece:

Breathing Easier

It finally feels as though I'm not thinking about acting out every hour of every day. It's still several times a day, but I feel like I have breathing room for a few hours at a time.

Today, something fairly innocent set me off. It didn't happen because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wasn't. It didn't happen because I was making poor choices. I wasn't. It just happened. It was more than an idea or a thought. It was instantly a desire. My brain stopped thinking clearly. It was becoming excited about the possibilities.

With much hesitation, I have decided to admit that I even typed something into my search bar that I thought would, since it was so innocuous a word, escape my filter's grasp. But my filter is a genius, and it blocked it. Again, what I typed wasn't even pornographic in and of itself. But I had set my filter long ago to block this genre of search terms. I was filled with relief when I couldn't access what I tried to access!! I even said "YES!" quietly.

It was strange. Like my fingers and my brain took over, but they were not doing what I wanted them to do. When I was blocked from accessing the page I wanted, and felt immense relief, that's what I truly wanted. I could have typed my password right in but it wasn't worth it to me. I went to my bedroom, knelt, and prayed for strength. While I was praying, I started to laugh. As recent as five weeks ago, considering how strong and immediate and alluring the temptation was today, I would not have taken the time to pray and ask for help. I wouldn't have wanted help. I would have found every excuse to continue the path that the trigger had thrust me toward.

It was really strong, and sudden. Boom! I am not happy with what I did at first. I honestly believe that I wouldn't have visited any sites or looked up any explicit images, but there's no way to know for sure.

After I prayed, I texted my sponsor, because I can't get too much support with this. And now you know. So much accountability!

I can make it till bedtime, and tomorrow is a new day.

I'm so grateful for how far I've come! I know that my recovery journey is still so new, and I have a long way to go, but tomorrow will be my six week mark -- Oh, so THAT'S why I was hit so hard today -- and I feel like I am breathing! I feel like the heavy mud and muck is falling off my body with every forward step I take. I feel so much lighter, I feel like the world is brighter, the horizon is clearer, and the air is cleaner. I feel like I can handle the good things that are coming my way. I don't want to hide from them. I don't want to hide from the truths about myself, either, even the uncomfortable ones. I'm not afraid of that today, anyway. But do you know what I've noticed? I've noticed that I can handle several consecutive days of happiness now! I don't quite understand why I couldn't before. But I couldn't.

That's a mind-dive for another day.

Anyway, I feel like it's been a million years since I was in active addiction, even though it's only been six weeks. It's because my general daily disposition is vastly different than what it was six weeks ago. I can't speak for tomorrow, but as of today, I feel fantastic. God has granted me hourly grace, and on it I have been carried. Every day, I give Him a little more, just a little more. I know that I could give even more each day, and I know that I must make these constant improvements in order to stay on this good path.

I hope I'm not overly-confident right now. I'm hoping to find that balance of humility and celebration.

Even with today's un-noticed ambush, I still feel like I'm breathing easier. I feel like I'm learning how to use the tools that are in front of me.

God is so good, so good.

Well I have two more days before my 30 days of writing is over. I have such mixed feelings. :)

The Broken Necklace

The little girl was in the car with her father. "Daddy," she said, "Do you remember my necklace with the heart pendant?"

"Yes, sweetheart. You mean your favorite necklace?"

"Yes, my favorite thing of everything I own!"

"Yes, I know which necklace you're talking about."

"Daddy, it's broken." The little girl's bottom lip began to quiver. "The heart broke off and it won't stay on the chain anymore. Can you fix it?"

"Of course I can!" said the father with a smile.

"Oh, thank you, Daddy!"

A few days passed and the little girl went to check on her necklace. It was exactly where she'd left it, and it was still broken. The little girl couldn't stop the rush of disappointment. Daddy promised! she thought. How could he break his promise? But the little girl knew that her father was busy, and maybe he just hadn't gotten around to it yet.

The next morning, the little girl ate breakfast with her father. "Daddy," she said, "didn't you say you can fix my favorite necklace?"

"Yes, of course, darling," the father responded.

"And. . . you will fix it, right?"

"I would fix it a thousand times over for you, my daughter."

The little girl smiled. Perhaps she had been too hard on her father. She would give him more than just a couple of days this time.

A week later, the little girl checked her jewelry box and found the heart exactly as she'd left it. Broken.

She knelt in sorrow. She clutched the pieces of her most prized possession to her heart and sobbed. She wondered why her father hadn't fixed her necklace yet. Doesn't he love me? she thought. Doesn't he want me to be happy? Doesn't he understand how important this is to me?"

She held the necklace out to study it. She already knew she couldn't fix it herself; she'd tried to a few days before asking her father. She had only made it worse. She remembered the day it had been given to her. It had been a gift from her father, the very father who wouldn't fix it for her now! He had told her the necklace will bring her strength when she felt weak, love when she felt forgotten, relief when she felt weary. And it had! The necklace had done all of those things and more for her, and she needed it. Surely her father knew how she needed it.

But, as she recalled with shame, she'd been the one who had broken it. How careless she'd been! She had dropped it while readying for bed one night. I'll pick it up later, she'd thought, even though something inside had warned her to pick it up immediately. It's no big deal, she'd rationalized. It wasn't until she had reached for it after breakfast the next morning, when she'd needed some comfort, that she'd remembered it was still on her bedroom floor. She'd rushed to her bedroom but when she'd seen her new book sitting on her dresser, she'd excitedly ran to retrieve it. She had been curious about what was going to happen to the fictional character next. Hastily, she'd opened the book and as she read, walked back to her bed to enjoy some quiet reading time. She'd noticed something beneath her feet, and had impatiently kicked whatever it was out of her way. She'd heard a thud against her wall and looked up. Of course, it had been her necklace. She'd gasped, dropped the book, and ran to the beautiful chain and pendant, to find that she had broken it by her careless actions. If only she hadn't put that dumb book above her precious necklace!

The little girl cried fresh tears. Maybe she needed to tell her father what she'd done before he would fix it. Maybe he knew she hadn't been totally honest.

The next day, she and her father were taking a walk. "Daddy," she braved, "my necklace is broken because of me." He knelt to face her, and she recounted the entire incident, leaving nothing out. "I'm so sorry!" she concluded with a sob, "I know you expected me to take good care of it, and I didn't." The father pulled her tear-saturated face to his chest and gently patted her head.

"Oh, my daughter. There is nothing you have done beyond my compassion and forgiveness. I will fix your necklace and make it as new. Trust me."

"You will, Daddy?"

The father nodded and wiped her face.

"But the heart is broken; it's in two pieces."

Now the little girl's father had a stern, but gentle, look cross his face. "Now, my daughter," he said, "have you forgotten what I do for a living?" The little girl shook her head. "What is it, then; what do I do?" he asked.

"You fix things that are broken, things that no one else can fix."

"Yes, that is what I do. I fix things that are broken. I can fix your heart, and I will."

The little girl grinned. "Oh, thank you, Daddy!" and she gave him a hug.

But the next day, her necklace was in her box, untouched. How could it be? How could her father break his promise again? Did she matter at all to him? She needed that necklace! He's forgotten me! she knew. She needed to feel the love, comfort, and protection she felt whenever she wore it. Devastated now, and angry, she collapsed to the floor and spewed desperate, hot tears into her palms. Why has my own father forsaken me when I need him the most?

Soon, she heard a knock at her bedroom door. "Who is it?" she shouted.

"It's me," replied her father.

She frantically wiped her face and opened the door to let him in. He scooped her into his arms and said, "I heard you crying. What's the matter, child?"

For a moment, she basked in the comfort of her father's arms, but, remembering her anger, quickly turned away from him.

"You promised. You promised you would fix my heart. You said you could but it's still broken."

"Oh, my daughter," he said softly. "Did you believe me when I said I can fix it?"

"Yes! I believed you!"

"Did you believe me when I said I will fix it?"

"Yes! I believed you!"

"Then, sweet daughter, why have you not given your broken heart to me? How can I repair what is still in your possession?"

The Scriptures

I think I've written about this before. I have a hard time reading scriptures. I rarely miss a day of reading, but every single day it's a chore. Occasionally, gems of wisdom pop out out at me, but not often. I know that if I put more into it, I'd get more out of it. But it seems so very very burdensome to me to try to find something worthwhile every single day. I just don't ever feel like investing that much energy to finding some spiritual miracle.

I love the scriptures. I used to love to study them. I used to love to read. I would read everything! I was reading all the time. Reading was my escape from the world. But, the past several years, I can't commit to reading anything! It's so sad because it's so different from what I used to love to do. I don't know how I was ever able to focus on a novel or a text book or the scriptures long enough to derive any level of pleasure from them. I have been reading Jane Eyre for 2 years. I'm about 3/4 of the way through! I just don't have that pull to literature that I used to have. It's depressing.

I think it's largely due to my pornography addiction. Porn is easy to focus on. It takes no work whatsoever, other than clicking a mouse. My brain can shift into auto pilot. I don't have to think. I think maybe I got so used to not having to work to get the result I wanted, that reading became terribly boring for me.

I wonder if it will ever bring me the joy that it used to, or if I have damaged my brain permanently.

Anyway, I can't even read an exciting novel without becoming bored, so the scriptures are certainly tough for me. I don't like it. I want to find joy in the scriptures again. I even try to say each morning, "Okay, I'm going to learn something today," and I make myself read and I try to find something amazing but it just doesn't come and sooner than later my thoughts are everywhere but on what I'm reading and that's how it goes for me every morning.

Even though I don't study the sweet words of God like I need to, I still feel like reading protects me. My efforts are weak, but they're still efforts, and I believe that each of my efforts are blessed.

Have any of you, my readers, experienced a failure to enjoy things that used to be so enjoyable prior to active addiction? Is this normal?

Well. Tomorrow I will try again to find joy in the words I read, even though I'm reading the Isaiah chapters in 2nd Nephi. Sigh.

Happy Recovery!

Step 12

I have a long way to go, of course, but I can seriously see myself telling the world, my world, about this addiction. I want to. I want to reach other women who are struggling with addiction, who are struggling silently. How many of my Facebook friends are addicts? I don't know, but I am nearly certain that some of them are. Here's the thing: If one of my friends had made an announcement that she was addicted to sex but was in active recovery, and had said so in the time that I was sure I was the only one, that may have rescued me from the obscurity, right then. I would have instantly felt validated, normal, un-freak-ish, and within the grasp of hope. I would have perhaps been able to understand that I didn't have to be in it forever, that if she could recover, then so could I. I would have been inspired and comforted.

If I can do that for one woman, by telling the world that I'm a recovering sex addict, then all the potential backlash or judgement would be worth it.

Don't worry. I have no plans to do this any time soon. I'd at least like to get a year of sobriety under my belt before I presume to help others.

In the meantime, I guess I better get working on the rest of my steps.

Happy recovering, friends!

Gratitude- You're Doing it Wrong

I have always thought of myself as a grateful person. But lately I really wonder. Am I grateful or spoiled?

I have been struggling with my faith. I have been expecting some great miraculous blessing as a direct result of my specific obedience to a specific commandment. My expectations weren't totally baseless, so I'm trying to go easy on myself. But, I think what I've actually been doing is trying to get God to bless me how *I* see fit. Bless me my way, Father. My way.

The blessings I thought I needed most and wanted most and expected most didn't come, so I dared to presume that the promises of God had not been fulfilled.

Such pride.

I am trying now to open myself up to receive the blessings that the Father wishes to give me. He knows what He's doing.

This is a short post but I hope I made sense. I am very tired. Good night!

Uncle Steve

It was the Summer of 1999, and I had just landed my first job. I was 18. I worked for Burger King as a counter and drive-thru cashier. Honestly, I LOVED it! I loved my crew, I loved my managers, I loved my customers. Customers loved me and so did my managers because the customers would sing my praises. One of my managers talked about giving me a raise after only about 10 days of working there. My team made me laugh every single day. I was loving life.

During my third week of employment, my aunt from Utah called me. She told me that her husband had just been released from a mental institution and that he was not legally allowed to care for their four children for a month. She was working full time and asked me if I would please stay with her for a month and watch her kids. She didn't want to ask, but she knew I didn't have school anymore, and she didn't know where else to turn.

I prayed about it, but I knew all along that I would do it. The saddest part of it was leaving Burger King. I gave a two-day notice, said I'd be back in a month if they'd have me, and left. They were very sad.

My uncle (we'll call him Uncle Steve) has bipolar. I don't know all the details of what happened in 1999, but it was something that was bad enough to get him institutionalized. I actually think he checked himself in. Anyway, my aunt needed me, and I packed enough stuff for a month, and to Utah I went.

People who knew Uncle Steve, or of him, would warn me: "watch out for him. He can be dangerous." "Be careful." "He's not a good person." and other warnings that scared me a little. I had no experience with bipolar or anything like it, and I had no idea what to expect. I didn't know Uncle Steve well, but I had one distinct memory of him yelling at my little brother about earthworms once. That memory in combination with all the warnings had me pretty worried.

Aunt Lisa and Uncle Steve had four kids, ages 7 to 6 months. I arrived excited to care for them; I'd always loved kids. It was an interesting month. For the first week, Uncle Steve hid in his bedroom almost all the time. I would see him when he went to the kitchen for some food. He would grunt some greeting and then go back to bed. It all played in with everything I'd been told about him.

But after that first week, he emerged from his cave and talked to me. A lot. He was fascinating and wonderful. I was immediately at ease. Soon I wondered why in the world anyone had ever seen fit to warn me about him. He asked me about my life, my opinions, my dreams. He was really interested! In me! He was so deep, and said so many profound things. He inspired me to forgive a years-long grudge. He inspired me to do better. He inspired to me unlock my heart and slowly begin to discover the worth of myself. I loved him. I loved to talk to him and learn from him.

After four weeks, my dear aunt Lisa asked me to stay another month. I obliged happily, phoned Burger King, said I wasn't coming back after all (they sent me a sad note with my final check, haha)and ended up staying another year.

All the warnings I'd had about Uncle Steve had proven to be false. Those who told me to watch out for him didn't actually know him at all. I came to respect mental illness. I came to respect my incredibly strong Aunt Lisa, who trucked through it like a true warrior. Her lot was more difficult than that of a single mom, because she had a job, did the child-raising, but had a husband. I don't know how she didn't kick him to the curb! While he was wonderful to me, he wasn't a shining example of a good and loving husband to his wife. She always said that she couldn't tell what was him or what was his disease, so she erred on the side of disease. She said that she knew it would be worth it in the Eternities, and that if she just held on, she'd have the man she fell in love with forever. What a wonderful example of endurance!

Steve was also an alcoholic. After I'd been living there a few months, I caught him drinking. Now, I had grown up in a very strict LDS setting, and drinking, in my young, naive mind, was akin to adultery in seriousness! I couldn't believe it! My uncle was drinking? He confessed to me that he'd been back to drinking for a while and begged me not to tell my aunt. The 18-year-old version of myself agreed that was the best way to go about it. But I hated the burden of a secret withheld from my aunt about her husband. Finally, she found out, obviously.

Steve drank and drank and drank. Twelve beers by noon. I began to despise the sound of a tab breaking a can open, and the fizz that followed. It meant my uncle was having another one. He was hurting himself and his family.

He was so mean, then. He was mean if he hadn't had a drink in a while, but he was nice and mellow when he'd been drinking. I began to prefer the alcohol-filled Steve. I prayed for him with all the energy of my soul.

But even in the middle of his addiction, he would talk of things of the Spirit. He would bear his testimony. He would talk about the love of God. He would serve his family and neighbors. He would love. And so I learned that alcoholism doesn't make one a bad person.

It was during my stay in their home when I, myself, rediscovered my own addiction. I had been clean for a full year. The night it came back was a horror-filled night, that perhaps I will recount another time. But it came back hard. And I felt worthless all over again. I would cry in the back yard for hours. Uncle Steve caught me once and said some kind and tender things. He tried to convince me of my worth, but I knew he was wrong. He didn't know what I'd done. It's ironic that right in front of me was an example that I was refusing to see. Addiction doesn't make you evil! But, I couldn't have known that I was an addict. The idea had never occurred to me. Even so, the truth that poor choices don't alter the worth of a soul was also right in front of me, and I still refused to see how that applied to me.

Steve sobered up and even began going back to church. It was a miracle. He gave me a blessing once, at my request, and told me in that blessing that I would look back on that time spent with his family with awe, and see that I was meant to be there.

Fourteen years later, I'm looking back at all the lessons I learned from Uncle Steve and Aunt Lisa. All the lessons that apply to me now. And I am so grateful for the time I spent there. Some of the lessons include:

-mental illness does not take the human out of people
-addicts are not bad people simply because of addiction
-miracles happen
-the Priesthood is powerful and real
-I matter
-Love can change circumstances and people
-Just because LDS people make choices that are against the Church does not mean they are faithless, and it certainly doesn't usually mean they shouldn't be members any longer
-Enduring to the end is vital
-If someone with bipolar can overcome addiction, then so can I
-Forgiveness (both giving and receiving) is liberating

And so many more. I love Uncle Steve. He rescued me, literally, one day. I was at college, two hours away from Steve and Lisa's house, and I was in my dorm with my boyfriend, about to damage my soul and his, when there was a knock on my door. It was Uncle Steve, and he had come to pick me up for a visit. He hadn't emailed, he hadn't called. He drove two hours in the night to pick me up. He saved me. I was so mad at first. How dare he! Who did he think he was! He told me "we're going. You're coming with me. I came to get you," or something like that. I only went with him because I would have felt horrible if he'd driven that far for nothing. My boyfriend was furious.

The drive home was quiet. He lectured me a little. God lectured me a little. But as I pondered through that trip, I realized what had just happened. God my Father had shown me clearly that I mattered to Him! Uncle Steve had followed a prompting, and he saved me that night. Uncle Steve loved me. Aunt Lisa loved me. Heavenly Father loved me. I could never ever deny it after that.

When we arrived home, I went into the bedroom I would be staying in and the weight of the love literally pulled me to my knees. I barely made into the bedroom before collapsing in deepest humility. Thank you for rescuing me. Thank you for sending Steve to rescue me. The love I felt was thick, tangible, warm and so peaceful. I basked in it for several minutes. How was it that I could be that important?

That's my uncle Steve.

Choosing Hope

This is all part of the cycle. The Adversary has turned my thoughts to how horrible I am. I have taken the bait! I'm not okay with my behavior last night. I was moping and refusing to do what I needed to do. Being single makes it harder, sometimes, maybe, to do things that I would do if someone else was watching. If nobody but me and my forgiving little kids see my messy house, then it seems like no big deal. If I don't have another adult to feed, then it's easy to make dinners that have little nutritional value. My kids don't care! If I spend three hours watching TV after the kids are in need, I have no one to answer to.

So after work yesterday, I stayed up way too late. I allowed some thoughts to linger that I should not even allow entrance. I bought all the "you suck" lies from Satan. I laid on my couch, watching TV, till about 2 in the morning. I hadn't watched TV in a while and I had many episodes of a few of my favorite shows to catch up on (via my DVR). It was between two shows: The Biggest Loser, and Nashville. I love them both but hadn't seen Biggest Loser at all yet this year, but I'm super wrapped up in the story of Nashville right now. I love all the music so much! But, honestly, it's a little smutty and quite negative and I'm going to stop recording it effective immediately because I'm about 90% certain that if I'd chosen to catch up on Nashville last night, my already-beginning thoughts and ideas would have been expounded upon, and I would have found it easier and easier to make tiny allowances until I'd gone too far.

I chose to watch Biggest Loser instead. For three hours. Sigh. I'm not saying I made the right choice. The right choice would have been to suck it up, get my kitchen clean, and go to bed early. But, out of the wrong choices that were before me, I made the better one, and I'm so glad I did.

This morning I decided to live a better day today. I realized that the self-defeating thoughts were just part of Satan's plan! He kinda won a small battle yesterday. He broke me down a bit by getting me to believe his lies about my worth. He gained some ground yesterday, but I stopped him today. I caught him! I remembered, thanks to a tender mercy, that this is what usually happens. After I'd been clean a while, I'd start to see a hundred other character weaknesses in myself. I'd start to beat myself up about them. I'd start to get discouraged because of them. And then I'd start to get scared to face them. So I didn't. I'd return to the addiction again because it was only one problem, as opposed to many. And then it'd become the only problem worth my effort yet again.

But yesterday, while I came closer than I have in a while, I didn't slip. And this morning, thanks be to God, I saw what Satan was doing. He's done this before, so many times! I'm not falling for it, not this time.

YES, I have many character weaknesses. BUT they do not affect my great worth. They are not insurmountable (unless I try to tackle them all at once). They are not outside God's realm of power to heal. I can turn it all over to Him; big or small.

Instead of giving into the familiar and, frankly, comfortable despair that I'm accustomed to, I am choosing hope.

Five weeks today. :)

Selfishness

The more I realize how selfish I've been, the more I wonder how selfish I still am. I break through more and more stone in my heart and it makes me wonder how much is really there.

It feels even selfish to work on recovery. All I'm thinking about is me! All I'm thinking about is MY recovery. Everything I'm doing is to that end, or to feed my addiction. Still there are parts of my addiction that are very active, and I keep finding out more and more of those parts. 100% of my time is spent on either my recovery from addiction, or addiction.

Me, me, me, me, me.

I'm sick of me but I'm also so scared to let up. I used to be more afraid of giving up this addiction than getting through it, but now it's the opposite. I'm terrified to go back. Living actively in addiction is far more terrifying to me than living in active recovery.

I don't really have much to share tonight. Whose idea was this write-a-post-every-night anyway? haha.

If I Slip

The idea angers me. It seems like everyone is expecting me to slip. I keep hearing "if you slip," sentences. They are well-meaning sentences, like "If you slip, don't give up on yourself." "If you slip, don't forget God still loves you." "If you slip, I'll still be your friend."

Here's the thing. I am very, painfully aware of the potential that I have to slip. Believe me. I know it's possible. But what's thinking about it going to do? I don't want to think about the possibilities of defeat! I know they're there. I know I am not perfect and that I am weak. I know that recovery generally includes slips. But I have had them and I am sick of them.

Right now, I want to go to the temple on March 15. Right now, I want to get myself a CTR ring for my birthday next month (I have told myself for a long time now that when I make it to 60 days, I'll buy myself a nice CTR ring. I've never had one and I want one.) Why can't I think about that?

The "if you slip" statements feel like "I'm expecting you to slip. But don't worry, everyone does. Don't worry, it'll be okay. God will still love you when it happens."

Maybe I will slip. But maybe I won't. I don't have to. I don't want to (as of this moment). And what I'd really like to focus on instead is the possibility of recovery.

I think I'm grumpy because I didn't have a Pepsi today. haha!

Oh, Pepsi, How Do I Love Thee?

I'm really quite upset because I think God wants me to give up Pepsi now. What I mean is, I think He wants me to give up. Pepsi. now.

There's no way.

And don't you think that's a little unfair? Two bishops ago (which was about 2 years ago), my favorite bishop I ever had who taught me about love, and who taught me that I am worthy of love as both the recipient and the giver, and who taught me that God is Love, and basically taught me that Love is the secret to the Universe-- anyway, this bishop told me, when I told him (kinda in passing) of my intense Pepsi addiction, "One addiction at a time." He said it with a smile, but I took it very seriously.

I will tell you something. I have used that as an excuse for so long. Putting it into context, that bishop was addicted to Dr. Pepper! haha. Oh I loved him. He saved me. But that one sentence, "One addiction at a time," has been something that I have foolishly clung to all this time. That's all I can handle you know, one addiction at a time. And since this sex addiction is of far more importance than my Pepsi addiction, it's the one I'll work on first. Once I've been in solid recovery for a good while, then I'll think about giving up my beloved Pepsi.

I'm sad to report that I believe God has other plans.

I have tried so many times to give up Pepsi. Oh, I love it! I love it, I love it! I love my daily dose of that sweet brown cola. I use it for celebration, for medication, for everything, and I love it. I think that I made it six weeks once without a drop of cola. That was a long time. But soon I justified just one drink and BAM! I'm back where I left off. Sounds soooo familiar.

Pepsi isn't ruining my life. Pepsi isn't permeating every crevice of my brain. Pepsi isn't preventing me from spiritual progression. Porn is.

I just don't think it's fair. Why now? I'm a baby in sex addiction recovery! I'm a wee newborn just learning to hold my head up on my own, and now I'm supposed to get rid of Pepsi too?

Nooooo. No, please don't take that away from me! As if resisting sexual temptations isn't hard enough every blasted hour? Now I have to add Pepsi? Now? So soon?

Oh MAN am I resisting this. I don't wanna do it.

I don't need any lectures on why soda is horrible for you. I already know. I have seen the facts and the studies. I don't want to be addicted to Pepsi. And, I can even see how a smaller-scale addiction can interfere with spiritual progression. I certainly see value in giving it up. But I don't want to. Giving up porn and kissing and sexual gratification is hard enough, thank you very much!!

No. Oh, please, no. Not Pepsi.

Even through all my whining, I hear a soft-spoken suggestion that perhaps resisting the sex stuff will be easier for me to do if I also concurrently deny myself this other addiction.

Hmph. I want to throw a fit.

******
I can't tell you how incredible my PASG meeting was tonight. It was everything I needed. I even learned something new that I'm mulling over with great wonder. Maybe I'll blog about it another night.

ALSO today, the Sunshine returned! Unfortunately, I don't mean that literally. It is very very cold in my not-Utah state, and it has been cloudy. (Sometimes I put stuff like this in my posts for my own future reference-- do feel free to ignore these references.) Anyway, I further realized today that negative thinking is a tool of Satan, and that negative thoughts attract negative thoughts, and so even one negative thought is dangerous. Negativity is heavy and exhausting to bear. I wonder if that's partly why people with depression are often tired all the time.

Hope is light. Keep the hope!

Life is good!
even though God seems to think I should give up Pepsi. Hmph.

Not So Rosy

Today sucks.

Yesterday I was happy and on top of the world and sunshiny and excited and light and wonderful. Yesterday was incredible.

Today is the Hyde to yesterday's Jekyll.

I don't understand why. My circumstances are identical to yesterday's. My mood is drastically different. I woke up cheery enough. But, somehow, negative thought after negative thought slowly and methodically sneaked into my brain, and I let them stay. I didn't notice their arrival. But the time I noticed I was feeling awful about who I am, and thinking terrible things about myself, I had been doing it for HOURS, and the damage had been done.

I could have reversed it, I suppose, but I did not. I remained stressed and mopey and angry and fearful. And now I'm exhausted. I think negativity takes a lot of energy. I'm spent.

It's not fair. I'm mad that the negative thoughts took me by surprise. I am mad that I am believing them when I know they are lies. I'm mad that my life is awesome and my day is rotten.

I had to ask for help today. I hate asking for help. Not about this addiction- I'm okay asking for help about my addiction because it makes sense that I would need help about my addiction. I can accept that I need help to overcome this. It's okay. But there are other parts of my life that I should not need to ask for help about. And today I did because I felt like I had to because I had painted my own self into an impossible corner (remember that Mormonad? hehe) and I need help out of it but I SHOULD KNOW BETTER! I should NOT have this problem! I should NOT need the help I need because I should have known better.

I know, I know, I shouldn't say "should." I shouldn't say shouldn't either I guess. What am I supposed to say then.

I'm super upset but that's just today and I am hopeful that tomorrow will be sunnier.

And Another Thing; This is Hard

I know, I know, two posts in one day. Erin overload!

I just wanted to point out that every single day is a challenge. I am certainly trying to make my blog posts more positive, but, I need you to know, every single day, I am tempted. Every day. Probably every hour. This is hard. The Enemy's trumpets are sounding in my ear all the time. That hasn't changed, yet. I anticipate that it will. Oh, how I hope that it will.

It doesn't matter where I am, or what time of day it is, something from a lifestyle I am desperately seeking to overcome, shouts at me!

Erin, look over here!
Erin, come play over here!
Erin, do this! Just once. Just once more.
Erin, give in.
Read this questionable article.
Watch this inappropriate scene.
Think about it.
Erin! Kiss him!
Erin! Look at that picture!

It's everywhere. The thoughts come everywhere. At work, home, in the car, at the blasted grocery store. Church. It's all over the place.

You guys, this is hard.

But I'm doing it. I remember a time when I was participating in a work-out program sponsored by my employer. It was hard. I was doing things I'd never done before. The trainer was having us wall-sit. FOREVER. It felt like an hour had passed and I was exerting all my strength and getting so upset that she wasn't saying "Okay, stop!" and while I was in that position, dying, I grunted, "I . . . can't . . . do it." The trainer giggled and said, "Of course you can! You are doing it!"

It was hard, but I was doing it.

This is hard, but I'm doing it. I'm gaining strength every day! I'm picking up hope and love every hour. And so, while it certainly feels like the buffetings of the Evil One have not really lessened, I feel much more equipped to handle his fiery darts. I don't feel fully equipped. I don't feel strong enough to stand on my own; shoot, I don't even feel strong enough to stand. I'm being lifted by my remarkable new support system. But I do feel like I can make it another day, notwithstanding the countless temptations, the calls to evil, the pleas of my withering addict.

This is hard. Make no mistake; this is hard.

Is this.... happiness?

Maybe.

I think that somewhere, not too deeply buried, I am housing a very happy soul. I believe that by nature, I am cheerful, energetic, and optimistic. I love that kind of personality, and I think I have it. When I live in sin, I cover that, and I am miserable. Not only do I deny myself freedom when I so live, I also deny myself my identity.

I am a happy woman! I am! I just haven't been for so long that it's difficult to see it. But I do think that's who I really am. Happy. Cheery. I think I'm uncovering this part of me, and I think it's very exciting.

Today I took the Sacrament. Oh sweet blessing. Oh what sweetness filled my soul! I never ever ever want to lose that privilege again. I want my children to see me, every Sunday, partaking of those sacred emblems.

Sigh. These horrid thoughts keep ramming brain. Thoughts like, "what if I slip again?" "what if I relapse?" Those are real possibilities, yes, but I don't want to focus on those possibilities! I want them out of my head! I want to focus on recovery, and the joy that will come, and the happiness that will come, and the return of who I really am that will come.

Today I substituted my Relief Society class at church. I have never taught an adult class before. The lesson was "Learning by Faith," and the funny thing is, I went to church determined to learn (as is the point of the lesson), but I did not suppose that I would learn from the lesson I was teaching while I was teaching it. But wow! The sisters who shared their thoughts and experiences enriched me so much. They answered my prayers. I was ready to learn, and I did.

Today, I saw my bishop. I requested a biweekly meeting schedule and he honored my request. I want to make sure I stay on track, here! I want to utilize every tool that I know. You know what he said to me today? "I have never seen this confidence on you. I have never seen this hope in you." He was so excited for me when I told him today was 30 days. He was so excited for me when I told him about you, my friends, when I told him all the support I was getting now. He was so pleased when I told him I told my family. He said "you have always had this support around you; you just didn't know it until you looked for it." He said, "You're gonna do this. You're gonna do this, no question." I believe that!

I asked him for a blessing. He kindly obliged.

He said he wants me to be three months out of this addiction before I attend the temple. I'm 1/3 of the way there already. March! I intend to attend the temple in March. What a good day that will be. Maybe I'll go March 15 which is the anniversary of an unfortunate experience-- I'll replace it with something great! Can't wait!

Today is a good day, a sweet day. Not every day will be a good day and that's okay. But today is a good day.

2013 IS the best year ever.

**special note**
I wanted to point out that my personal time frames of returning to the temple, taking the Sacrament, etc., are my personal time frames, that I have worked out with my inspired bishop. I do not mean to suggest that everyone should wait three months to attend the temple. Others' personal time frames may be shorter than mine, or longer than mine. It's up to the Lord, the bishop, and the person.

The Enemy Strikes!

And I struck right back.

We're actually still battling. We're still battling because I haven't surrendered to God just yet. I believe my Heavenly Father is standing by, ready to fight this for me, but I'm not ready to hand over the sword. I'm getting closer.

Last night, an enormous temptation appeared before me. It appeared so small, so insignificant. Let me give you some embarrassing but honest background first.

My first kiss happened 10 days before my 20th birthday. I was falling in love with the guy and, in fact, that was the night he told me he loved me for the first time. After we broke up, I was in another (remarkably healthy) relationship for a few months, and so we kissed too. After him, I met my husband, and so I kissed him too. I figured I would die having only kissed three men and I was so fine with that.

But then the divorce happened, and my addiction increased, and I have kissed more men since my divorce than I did before my marriage. A lot more.

I always thought it wasn't that big of a deal, which is ridiculous, because when I look back at each experience, something horrible either did happen, or almost happened. I always thought it was just a kiss.

Most of the time, I made it clear (I thought) to the guy that I wasn't looking for a relationship and I just wanted a kiss. I even told a few of them, "I'm just using you, you know." How sad is that. Well, the response was always favorable and often included a confession that they were just using me too and that was just fine. And we'd kiss. Sometimes we'd be kissing friends for several weeks. Here are some of the horrible things that happened as a result:

-The guy started falling for me, so he was genuinely hurt when I got tired of kissing him
-I got way too close to going way too far, more than once
-Horrible, deep depression
-Fast return to familiar addictive behaviors, if I'd been clean a while (which, now that I think about it, I usually start subconsciously looking for a guy to kiss when I've been clean a while. It always seems safer than returning to old methods, but it's not safer at all)
-Loss of friendships
-One guy threatened bodily harm, and that was very scary
-I was the "other woman." In my defense, I had no idea he was married till later. If I would have taken a minute to get to know him, I may have avoided that. Actually, I'm not being totally honest. I let him kiss me another time after he told me he was married. I have never admitted that before, even to myself. It kills me that I did that, just kills me.

As was pointed out to me by my sponsor this morning, there's no such thing as "just a kiss." I'm eliminating that phrase from my vocabulary effective immediately.

Anyway. The temptation of last night was just like before. There was this guy. I wanted the challenge of convincing him to kiss me. I take some pleasure in that level of manipulation. I think it's called seduction. I like to think "I still got it!" but that's a lie too, because guess what, it does not take talent, beauty or skill to find sex or anything like it. Sexual activities will always be available for anyone, anytime. Being proud that I convinced someone to kiss me is like being proud that I found Cheerios in the cereal aisle at the grocery store.

This morning, I had every intention to text this guy, invite him over for a movie or suggest we go for a walk, or something. I just wanted to see what would happen. I wanted just a kiss. He's a nice guy. I have no interest in starting a romantic relationship with him (otherwise I wouldn't want to kiss him!). And what's the big deal if we just kiss?

I knew it was wrong, Friends. I knew it. But I felt like I couldn't stop myself. I was being pulled into the idea, the fun of the idea, the scintillating exhilaration of the idea, and I couldn't comprehend saying "not this time." It was all I could think about. I didn't believe I'd be able to resist this one, but I did convince myself that I would not slip as a result of the "just a kiss" if it happened. That's a lie too.

So, this morning, I prayed half sincerely for strength to do the right thing. I really did want to choose well. Actually, I wanted to want to choose well. Then I decided to text my sponsor. It feels so weird saying that, "My sponsor." I told her exactly what was going on and she helped me through it, helped me clear the mud from my mind, helped me to truly understand that "just a kiss" doesn't exist, and that this was a strike from the Enemy. I could throw up my arms in defeat or I could stand up for my virtue, and protect this poor man as well. I'm not just dealing with myself, here. Sure, his choices would be his choices, but if I can help his choices along by not being a temptation for him too, then I need to do that.

So. I think I'm ready to let God fight this one, now that I've written it out. I'm handing it over to Him, and I will do as He directs in this instance. Tomorrow is 30 days, and it makes sense that Satan is trying to break me down now. 30 days is a milestone!

I know this post is kinda blunt, but I wanted to put it out there in case others relate. I always love to read posts on other blogs that describe where I am in the fight, even if it's ugly.

Looking Forward With an Eye of Faith

It's becoming more and more difficult to think of something to write every night!!

Forgive the late hour of my post.

I'm excited about life. I'm excited, rather, about the life I will live as deeper-in-recovery recovering addict. On that note, I have a hard time swallowing the "once an addict, always an addict" thing. I don't want to be always an addict. I want to be cured! Why can't I be cured? I will always need to be careful with pornography, of course. Everyone, I believe, addict or not, should avoid it at all costs. But, if Jesus can cure the blind, then why not the addict? I don't know if I can accept that I will always be an addict. I don't like that.

Anyway. I'm starting to get excited about who I am! I think I'll like my life without active addiction. I think I'll enjoy it. I think I'll be a better person in general. I think I'll progress more quickly. I know life will still be challenging. I know I'll want to give up sometimes. But I have better coping skills now! I can talk to myself, matter to myself, validate myself and forgive myself! I have safe friends with whom I can share my struggles. I have music I can sink myself into. I know that times will come when I do not want to cope in those ways, when I'll prefer to mope or throw a tantrum, but I also believe those moments will be fewer and farther between, and I hope I'll be better equipped to manage them.

Maybe I'll become the person I've always wanted to be. Or, maybe at least, I'll be able to believe it is possible to become the me I've always wanted to be.

Today is four weeks for me. I'm starting to see the temple as a real possibility. How desperately I want to return to that holy place!

Doubt and Deliverance

Mosiah 29:20 "But behold, he did deliver them because they did humble themselves before him; and because they cried mightily unto him he did deliver them out of bondage; and thus doth the Lord work with his power in all cases among the children of men, extending the arm of mercy towards them that put their trust in him."
Italics added.

All cases. I remember I used to dismiss those all-encompassing phrases in my head. I would assume that scriptures like this meant "all cases but mine." And, really, how selfish is that? I remember being in Young Women's and the Young Women president, or whoever, would say "I love each of you!" and I was always sure they meant everyone but me. "You each have special talents!" and I knew they'd mean "except Erin." It's such a prideful way of thinking. I'm the exception? Why am I so special? Um, no. I am not the exception. I wish I could have been convinced of that years ago. I even dared suppose that the Atonement covered everyone except me. How selfish I was!

That's a little embarrassing to admit, because I'm admitting that I didn't believe Jesus, I didn't believe the prophets, I didn't believe my church leaders, I didn't believe God. Of course, the idea that I was doubting God never occurred to me. I still discover, from time to time, that I still doubt Him. I'm grateful that my Father helps me to see when I'm doubting him so I can consciously choose to believe.

I no longer believe that I am the exception to the Atonement. I believe that I am covered by the Atonement, and that the Atonement is so very, deeply personal and individual, and that my brother Jesus Christ would not have chosen to avoid atoning for me. I believe He loves me as He loves anyone and everyone else. I believe He has plucked me out of darkness several times, in attempt after attempt to get me to face Him again. I believe that I am precious to Him, and that I matter to Him. I am so grateful for those sweet moments when He has shown me His love, "even unto the consuming of my flesh."

He has saved me. He will save me. He is saving me. As I trust in Him, His arm of mercy is extended towards me, and as I cry mightily to Him and humble myself, He will deliver me out of this bondage that I imposed upon myself (well, with the help of Satan et al.), and He will work with His power in my case.

I love this truth. It is delicious to me.

Detox?

I'm two days shy of four weeks clean.

I'm right now resisting telling myself, "big deal, four weeks is horrible." "So what? Four weeks is nothing. You should be several years clean. You should be forever clean."
Instead, I will allow myself a small inner celebration. I haven't reached this point alone, but I haven't reached this point in a while! Four weeks is a pretty big deal, and I'm going to let it be. I couldn't have made it this far alone, but I also couldn't have made it this far without my own choices. It has been a joint effort.

Of course, I'm not to four weeks yet. But, still, 26 days is a bit exciting. And I'm going to let it be!

I read a blog post on the blog By the Light of Grace a while back about detox from sexual addiction. I was in the middle of sin when I read it and it didn't apply. Today, I felt inspired to read it again. And I have diagnosed myself with addiction detox! Oooh, so THAT'S why I'm so dang emotional and irritable and anxious. And it makes sense. My brain is starving.

Check out this list of possible symptoms:
Headaches (frontal lobe headaches specifically)/migraines
Erratic emotions
User dreams
Muscle pain
Anxiety
Anger/rage
Feeling stupid (saying stupid things, acting stupid)
Magnified feelings of shame and dirtiness
Lack of energy
Depression
Dizziness
Nausea
Fatigue
Intense food cravings (carbs, fat, soda, salt, sugar)
Lack of concentration
Irritability/Snappiness
Uncontrollable crying
Insomnia
Sadness
Vivid dreams
Nightmares
Intense urges
Shakes/tremors
Hopelessness
Feelings of losing grip on reality and that you're going crazy

In the last few weeks, I have been experiencing over half of these. It's a relief to have hope that it's all temporary. I wonder what my life will be like when it balances out, when my brain understands that it won't be getting that dopamine spike. In her post, Sidreis said that symptoms can last 4-6 weeks. Uuggghhh.

But thank goodness it's temporary. I'm going crazy.

Admission

Today I told God, "I feel like I'm being put on hold. I don't necessarily feel like I'm being completely ignored by Thee, but I feel like I'm on hold. I feel mostly alone, I feel like my needs are on hold, and I can't hear Thee, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do." And then a desperate, "WHERE ARE YOU?!"

While in such a state, I was mentally scolding myself for having a sucky day when I have everything I need. I have no right, I was saying to my head, to feel fearful or sad or lonely or frustrated or ignored or in ANY way bad, because I have everything I need.

This is what usually happens. I don't allow myself to feel, because I don't figure that I deserve to feel. I think there are many roots to my addiction, but this very thing is one of the bigger, deeper, older roots. I never thought that my feelings mattered. Indeed, I was taught that they do not. This, of course, wasn't a direct sermon. And it was largely my perceptions rather than others' behavior. But, I felt like my feelings never mattered to anyone around me, when I was a kid. Even at church, I was shunned, openly, by the young men and young women. I was nothing to my peers. I felt like my voice didn't matter at home (dear Family, if you are reading this, please don't feel like I'm blaming you. I am not. You are wonderful). So, when I went to college, I met a boy with whom I fell deeply in love, but he treated me like I didn't matter. That relationship was costing me spiritual progression, so I ended it, which was no small feat. Then I met my husband who treated me, at first, like I was the most important human being. That lasted a few days, quite literally, but I bought it and clung to those first days until our wedding. Our four year marriage was four years of me not mattering. He would laugh at me when I cried, or yell at me when I cried. When I expressed frustration or anger, only HIS frustration and anger mattered. It fed into my belief that my opinions and feelings didn't mean anything. I believed that about myself, so of course I attracted men who would believe that about me too.

I still believe that about myself, to a degree. I really believe this is my largest, deepest root to my addiction. IF my feelings don't matter, then I don't acknowledge them. IF I don't acknowledge them, then they fester and they must be released. Hello, addiction. Thank you, Addiction, for taking the pain away, the pain that I stubbornly refuse to acknowledge, to admit.

Admission. Tonight, at my PASG meeting, the word "Admit" changed definitions for me. We went over step one: "Admit that you, of yourself, are powerless to overcome your addictions and that your life has become unmanageable." What does admit really mean? Well, one definition is allow. Permit. And I thought of concert. We are admitted into a concert. We're allowed, permitted to attend. Invited, even. Invited in, if we have what is needed to show we're supposed to be there. Admitting my problems now means to me allowing my problems. I live in denial. When I have a thought of sadness or confusion; frustration or doubt; anger or fear, I immediately shun it. And then I yell at myself because how dare I feel horrible about something, anything, when I HAVE EVERYTHING!? I have shelter, I have health, I have daily food, I want for no physical needs. And, I think, if I AM upset/sad/angry/scared, then I shouldn't be. Oh, and I scold myself every time.

I am extraordinarily blessed, and I am so grateful.

But guess what. I cannot let go of any problem without first letting it in. First I must admit it. The symptoms are already in the concert hall with me. I have admitted the guilt, the temptations, the sins, the manifestation of unacknowledged anger and resentment. I have already admitted the consequences of the problem, the problem that sits outside the locked door because I refuse to admit it. I refuse to admit that I am angry, or lonely, or wanting for more. But I can't release the consequences of the problem/emotion unless I open the door, and admit the problem.

Tonight, God showed me He's still here. He told me my feelings matter, and that I get to admit them. I get to be angry and upset, even at Him. I get to be afraid, and I get to want more, even though I have so much more than so many of His children. I get to be sad, even though so many others have much sadder circumstances to wade through. I get to feel all these negative emotions. I will experience them because I am human. I will experience them, even as a richly blessed white American with a huge support system. These feelings are part of the human experience. It's just part of being a mortal. I'm not evil for feeling bad. I'm human! I cannot avoid these feelings, and I must stop denying them when they are here. I will experience genuinely horrible moments, even though they might not be as horrible as someone else's- they're still horrible for me. And that's okay! I can have a bad day! I can admit it. I must admit it because when I don't, I seek a dangerous escape. I must let it in, so I can let it out.

I have been trying to get God to bless me my way. And He gently reminded me of that, too, tonight. "Our will in competition to God's will allows desires, appetites, and passions to go unbridled." This is why I must hush, and let God be God. This is why I will admit the problem, then give it to Him.

Also in step one, we're reminded of this verse:
"My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep. . . . He hath filled me with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh."

As I read that to myself tonight at the meeting, I knew that God was not placing me on hold. He is here, as He always has been and ever will be. He has, truly, filled me with His love even unto the consuming of my flesh, and I cannot, will not forget those sweet moments.

This has been a tender mercy of a loving Father who has not forgotten me, brought to you by Erin.

Things that make my heart go "ahhh"

What are some of your favorite recovery quotes? Or, if "recovery" doesn't apply, what are some of your favorite inspirational quotes? I will tell you a few of mine:

"He who fears being conquered is sure of defeat." ~Napoleon

"We're not interested in the possibilities of defeat." ~Queen Victoria

"Restoring what you cannot restore, healing the wound you cannot heal, fixing that which you broke but cannot fix is the very purpose of the Atonement of Christ." ~Boyd K Packer

"Christ takes the slums out of people, and then they take themselves out of the slums." ~Ezra Taft Benson

"May we be convinced that Jesus is the Christ, choose to follow Him, be changed for Him, captiained by Him, consumed in Him, and born again."
~Ezra Taft Benson

"I will not leave you comfortless; I will come unto you." ~Jesus

And my very very very favorite (so far) is this: "The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don't go back to sleep." ~Rumi

Exposed!!!

And it is AWESOME! My fear of exposure has been proven false, in one aspect at least.

Obscurity is a dark, lonely place. "Dark" and "lonely" are such common words that they mean little, but I mean "dark," in the darkest sense of the word, and "lonely," in the loneliest sense of the word. Obscurity and secrecy are places of @#!*% . I didn't even know!

I was so afraid to tell anyone about this addiction. I told my bishop. Well, bishops. I told a little to my best friend. At first, that was very helpful, but her beliefs are so different from mine that she just isn't very supportive. Simply because of our opposing beliefs. I can't think of anyone else I told. The bishop can't come over and hug me when I need a hug. The bishop can't text me and ask "how are you doing?" The bishop can't send me random emails of encouragement. You know? My bishops have all been wonderful, but I need more support. I didn't even realize how alone I was.

It's ironic that I was so, so afraid of telling anyone about this. What I should have been afraid of is living one more day in obscurity! Now that I have so many cyber friends who are rooting for me, people to whom I can turn knowing they know what it's like, people who have been just where I am, people from the ARP meetings (whom I'm now thinking I need to get to know, rather than rushing out the door the second the meeting ends) and people who love me just the way I am and want for my improvement- not because they're judging but because they want my happiness- I feel exposed. I feel like I have been rescued from a dark, cold cave where I was trying to survive all on my own, and I was taken to a sunny meadow, and the sun is shining on me and I am free! Free from obscurity! And it feels so good. The sun on my face is a miracle. I need never return to that dark and lonely cave.

I was so very afraid of others finding out my secret. But now, others know, and it's so. much. better.

And so, what I glean from this experience, is that perhaps self-exposure is also something I needn't fear, but should embrace. Perhaps, being exposed to my own self is going to be just as liberating and refreshing as exposure to others. Maybe digging around in my soul and finding out what's really there beyond this crippling addiction will be good. Maybe I'll enjoy what I find, whom I find.

I look forward to this journey! I laugh as I write that sentence! I LOOK FORWARD TO THIS JOURNEY OF RECOVERY! What is that? That is new. I can't wait to discover new gems and new hope and new joy as I make these difficult steps.

God with you!
~Erin

Sacrifice

Before I get on with tonight's post, let me explain last night's. I hope not too many people saw it! I posted a Youtube video of a song that I wrote called Carry Me, Lord. I had made a little video with pictures of Jesus to go along with it. My face was never in the video, but today, I realized that the video shows my real name. So I took the post down.

Moving on:

In the past, I haven't been very good at sacrifice. I haven't sacrificed much in my life. I haven't sacrificed much in order to eliminate this addiction. I feel like sacrifice is essential to addiction recovery. Without sacrifice, there will be no recovery!

I asked God to help me sacrifice. I asked Him to give me an opportunity to sacrifice, and the courage to carry it out. Of course that prayer was answered. This was last month.

The scriptures make it very clear that this exact sacrifice that I feel I gave has immense blessings attached. I know that God doesn't work on a clock, but I do. Maybe I'm totally blind to the blessings around me. Maybe I just can't see what He's done. Maybe I'm expecting too much. As I perceive it, my need is great, and my need is urgent.

I'm upset because I can see that if I didn't make that sacrifice, I'd be much better off than I am now. That is my finite, mortal perception. I am probably wrong.

I shouldn't be upset. This is only a moment. It feels bigger than it really is because it's right here, right now. I wonder how long I have to sweat it out before I realize the blessing.

Sigh. I'm being so greedy. I have everything I need! I'm freaking out about tomorrow, but I do not know what tomorrow holds. As of right now, I have everything I need and I have lost nothing, even though I gave up what I felt like was everything. I still have everything! Today, I have sufficient for my needs, and I am fine. I need to let tomorrow take care of itself.

Matthew 6:34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Alright. Faithfully forward. Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of Heaven. They'll come. They're here.

21 Days today. :)

Just Some Tips

Obviously, I'm not an authority on the subject of recovery, since I haven't yet made it very far. Nonetheless, here are some tips that have worked for me in the past. Maybe there are a few that might benefit some of you.

-Keep a picture of the Savior by my computer

-Get an excellent filter. I recommend either K-9 (free) or Net Nanny (not free). I use Net Nanny because K9 didn't work with Google Chrome. I wasn't able to even log onto gmail, and it was quite maddening. I like Net Nanny better because it seems to have more options, and it blocks thumbnails, unlike K9. I may have been using K9 incorrectly, though.

-If you are keeping the password rather than giving someone else control, make the password something that will be difficult to type just to get to porn. I have used the names of my children, and that was very effective. I couldn't type their names in order to access pornographic material. I just couldn't. I have also used sentences like "Jesusiswatching" and that was very effective. I recommend changing the password every few months just to keep it new, because it's easier to rationalize away something that has been there awhile.

-I typed the Sacrament Prayers and posted them by my bedroom door. I repeated the prayers four times daily before I left my room. Through the day, the Sacrament was on my mind. After a few months, I changed the scripture, again to keep things new.

-Forgive others

-Attend ARP and/or PASG meetings! When I attend with an honest intent to learn, and with consciously opening my heart, then I get that much more out of them.

-I forgive myself

-Change the radio station. I haven't listened to a normal radio station for years. I don't even know what's cool anymore. I listen to Christian stations and, my favorite, the local classical music station. Anything else just is so filled with suggestions. It was becoming too much for me, so I let it go. I often listen to Pandora, but even that has songs with lyrics I don't need to fill my head with, but at least I can skip them right away.

-I got rid of my Netflix account. I don't think I'll ever be safe with Netflix again.

-I made a ridiculous password for Rated R and above movies on my DirecTV account. This has saved me a few times. I also programmed it to block the titles of programs that have suggestive titles. Sometimes, I have tried to watch an inappropriate movie, and I'll try to remember the 4-number password, and I can't. I know this has saved me from pornographic scenes, sadly!

-I stopped talking about sex with my peers and friends, no matter how innocent it appeared.

-I recently posted pictures that my kids drew all over my bedroom. I love it! My bedroom feels so happy now. I think it's changed the mood of my bedroom.

-Pray, pray, pray, pray, pray.

A Small but Sweet Victory

Early this morning, I received a message in my Facebook inbox. It was from Jake. He'd sent it late last night. "Hi," was all it said.

But it actually said, "come away with me, and destroy yourself. Come away with me from the arms of Jesus, and have some fun. Come with me, and I will make you forget all the rotten stuff in your life. Come, let's go forget the world, forget your goals, you can always repent later. You know you want this. Regret is for the morning."

Jake is the guy from this post. In case you don't want to read it, here's a summary: It was July 2010, and I "met" this guy on Facebook through a dear friend. Jake seemed way cool and we had talked to each other on my friend's page a few times. We seemed to have a lot in common, so we became Facebook friends. In almost no time at all, he was telling me about all this sexual stuff that he was into. He sent me links to show me what he was talking about. I clicked. He and I talked.

The next day, I "unfriended" him. I probably gave him a long, ridiculous explanation. I probably apologized. I never sought him out again. I didn't hear from him at all till last night.

"Hi."

Two and half years later, this guy shows up out of nowhere!

I admit that for a moment, I wanted to know what he wanted. I wanted to see if I could lie to myself just enough to respond. I knew what a response would do. A small part of me desired it. But a large part of me wanted nothing to do with it. I deleted his message and went to his profile only to block him. I hope that makes it so he can't message me again.

NOT TODAY! Not me, not this, not now! I don't blame Jake. I'm not upset with him. I don't think he's evil. But he doesn't belong in any tiny corner of my life. To my spirit, he's not Jake- he's a deadly serpent. The Serpent was laying out a trap, and I didn't bite. Not this time!

I'm so excited about this! And I think it's okay for me to celebrate small victories, as long as I acknowledge my Source of strength. What a merciful God we have. I'm so grateful that this happened on a day when I felt strong enough. I'm so grateful I have been healed sufficiently to protect me from what might have been. I'm not saying I'm healed. But I'm healthier than I was a week ago, and there has certainly been some healing, wrought by the Atonement.

What if I'd received the same message 3 weeks ago? I don't know what I would have done. But today, I didn't yield.

I'm going to tell you something. The high I have from winning that battle is sweeter and longer lasting than the high I'd have experienced from following the Serpent into the dark. And it's real. You know? It's a genuine high.

I had a choice this morning. I'm grateful for the choice, and I'm so pleased that I made the right one.

Fighting with Friends, and Other Thoughts

Well. I told my family. From what I gather, everything is okay!

I do worry about my mother. I hope she isn't too upset. I've caused so many tears for her in the past. She is so wonderful.

I attended my PASG meeting tonight. The holiday kept most away; there were only three of us, plus the missionaries. But it was a great meeting anyway. I'm always so glad when I go to those. I was feeling anxiety about it because it usually ends at 8:30 and my kids need to be in bed by 7:30 or they don't get enough rest (we wake super early). I don't have money for a sitter, and I felt like I would either have to bring them with me (which I do often, and they play in the foyer of the seminary building), or not go. I wasn't going to bring them with me because they needed to sleep, but every time I thought of not going, I felt awful.

With very little effort, I was able to find a sitter on about a 30 minute notice. I promised payment later in the month.

At the meeting, I reflected on my first meeting, and on my addiction fighting friends, and on my family. I have such a great support network now! I love it. I feel buoyed and strengthened and lifted and supported. Let's be honest- I need support. I can't do this alone. Maybe others can. Maybe other people can work alone with God and themselves and come out of the trap. But not me. I didn't know that until maybe this week. I need other people helping me along.

Have I ever written about the miracle of my first ARP meeting? I think I may have shared some details, but allow me to recap.

I was the only LDS woman in all the world who had this issue. Logically, I knew that probably wasn't true. But I had no anecdotal evidence to suggest otherwise. As far as I knew, I was the only one. As far as I knew, I was the only LDS woman with a serious addiction of any kind. If there were other LDS women struggling this way, then they probably were inactive. I was the only one who was trying, and who was addicted.

One Sunday, our Relief Society lesson was about the ARP. I had heard of it before. A bishop somewhere along the line had mentioned it in passing. I look back and I wonder why none of my bishops suggested that I attend? One bishop told me of its existence once. But none of them said it's something I could benefit from. I don't blame them. I don't think ill of any of them for it. I just wonder why it wasn't something they highly encouraged me to do. Anyway, that Sunday, I resolved that I would attend the next meeting. Many obstacles presented themselves, but I overcame them all, and attended the meeting.

I wore a hat. I didn't think I did that on purpose-- but now I think I did. I wanted something to hide behind. And I walked in, so embarrassed. I avoided eye contact, found a desk, slumped in it, put my head down, and covered my face with my bill. The meeting began. I thought it was so weird, especially when everyone chanted "Here here!" and said "Hi" to everyone in unison. It was packed. I have never seen a Friday meeting that full since that date. I needed to be there on that day, and God brought me there. There were about five women there! Three people from my ward were there. I was shocked. These were people I looked up to! One had just given an outstanding talk about the Atonement the Sunday before! One was an older woman whom I had admired. It didn't make sense that good people were there. I thought maybe they were there to support someone else. But, as they shared their stories and struggles with addiction, it occurred to me that you don't have to be bad to be an addict. Because these people weren't bad. I knew them. They were wonderful.

As others shared their stories, I heard my own self.

Suddenly, I wasn't as alone as I had previously thought, and that knowledge did wonders for my self-perception, and for my heart. I didn't share that night. I kept hiding behind my hat, just listening, pretending not to need to be there.

The following meeting was not so well attended, and they never have been since. No women were there the next time. If my first meeting had been the following meeting, I may not have returned. But a miracle operated on my heart that first night.

BUT, I was still alone in some regards. I wasn't the only addict in the world anymore, but I was still the only woman LDS sex addict in the world. Until recently. I had no idea how much I needed other human beings! I had no idea how sweet it is to not feel so alone. I didn't realize just how sad I was.

Human connection is so very, very important. It's so much better to fight these bloody battles with friends who are fighting the same bloody battles. I needed people, and God gave me people.

And now my family is fighting with me. It's starting to seem like, with all this help, I can win.

Eating Elephants

You know that saying about the way you eat an elephant is one bite at a time? I have a problem with wanting to eat the elephant in one moment, and if I can't eat the whole elephant at one time, then I don't want to eat the elephant.

My therapist (the good one I had) helped me realize that I have a faulty black/white, all-or-nothing viewpoint. Basically, if I think I might fail, then I don't do it. Or, if I do, then I allow myself excuses to explain the failure. "Oh, I got a B on that test because I put off studying so long. If I'd studied, I'd have received an A of course." Incidentally, that's also one of the reasons I choose to procrastinate. I get to use procrastination as an excuse! It's an excuse that works for me, somehow.

I do miss seeing my therapist. I haven't been able to afford therapy for several months now.

Anyway, I still remember many of the things about me that she helped me to see. If I think I can't eat the whole elephant at once, then I'm going to pass, thanks. When I think of all the lost opportunities that this frame of mind has likely cost me, I am saddened! Well, this line of thinking has contributed to the continuation of my addiction. I can't change overnight, so I'm not going to try, because there's no point.

WRONG. One day at a time. One bite at at time. One step at a time. I cannot climb a staircase in one smooth leap! To reach the top, I must take the individual steps. Sure, I can take two steps at a time, but that actually takes more energy and wipes me out earlier and doesn't get me to the top much faster after all. I need to take the steps.

Furthermore, God doesn't expect me to reach the top of the staircase in one stride. He doesn't even want me to do that. He wants me to learn the lessons of each step. Maybe this staircase has 12 steps.... hehe.

The other day, I decided to clean. My whole house needed work. Every single room begged my attention. I couldn't do it in one day, and so I didn't want to do it at all. But, I decided that I would do what I could. And I did.

At the end of the day, my house really didn't look much better as a whole. But, I had worked very hard. I had given everything I could. I went to bed that night knowing that I had done enough. I allowed myself to feel like non-perfection was enough! Usually, I tell myself, "yeah, I cleaned my bedroom today, but so what? The rest of my house is horrible. Yeah, I clean my bedroom today, but so what? It's just an anomaly. What about all the other days I never cleaned at all? Yeah, I did a ton of laundry today, but so what? It wouldn't have been this bad if I'd done laundry like a normal person!" But I didn't allow those thoughts this time. No, my house wasn't spic and span. No, not every single chore had been completed. No, I didn't eat that whole elephant. But, I did what I could, and I felt fantastic! I didn't do everything, but I did enough.

I don't remember ever feeling like that before.

It was beautiful. It made me think about this addiction. I can't cure myself overnight. I can't cure myself at all! That's not my job; I'll leave that to Jesus. But, if I do everything I can, then guess what? That's enough.

Here's to 2013. Here's to eating elephants. I hope to eat more elephants this year because I'll be doing it the right way instead of trying to do it all at one time or not at all. I'm excited.

God bless you all.