Here are some things about me that I wish to no longer be ashamed of, in no particular order:
1. I weigh 213 pounds and wear a size 18. This was especially shaming because when I was in college 13 years ago, I weighed 118 pounds and wore a size 5. I gained more than 100 pounds since then! My highest weight was 233 pounds. I have no reason to be proud of that, but guess what? I also have no reason to be ashamed. So I'm releasing the shame. Goodbye, shame! It is what it is and though I wish it wasn't, I can't change it by feeling crappy about it. I don't like to be obese, but that doesn't mean I have to be ashamed.
My worth is unaffected by my weight, after all.
2. My house is a mess. My organization skills are pathetic. Right now, I'm looking around my living room and there is mail on the floor, trash on the floor, couch pillows strewn about, papers and mail on every surface, some shoes, a bra, and Guess Who (the game) in pieces on the floor. Oh, and a few toys. The kitchen isn't much better, though the dishes are actually clean right now. The floor isn't bad, either. Both my kids' bedrooms are clean right now but that wasn't the case yesterday. And my bedroom- oh, my bedroom! It's where train wrecks come to vomit. Even by writing about it, I am not dispelling the shame. I know that I could not post a picture of it. I could post a picture of the rest of my house. It's messy but it's really not too bad. But, my bedroom? No. It can hide in shame for now. I want to get to a point where it doesn't bring me down with the weight of shame. I'm going to clean it- eventually.
My worth is unaffected by the condition of my bedroom, after all.
3. My son's Cub Scout progress. He's been in Cub Scouts for five months and I haven't helped him earn a single thing. I previously felt immense shame for that, but I'm trying to calm down that anxious shame now. It is what it is! I can't go back and change a thing! I feel a lot of dread and anxiety about the scouting program anyway, which feeds my shame--
Wait. You know what really feeds shame? Expectations. I expect myself to be thinner. I expect myself to be tidier. I expect myself to be more involved in my son's scouting experience. Expectations aren't so bad if they're healthy, but when I add conditions to those expectations, like "if I don't help my son with scouts, then I'm a bad mom," or "if I am not 135 pounds, then I'm a loser," then I'm setting myself up for a long-time sentence in a prison of shame! And that is what I do with those expectations, see. It's what creates the shame. I think shame, then, is created by unmet, unrealistic expectations.
Okay, back to my list.
4. This here addiction of mine, especially my last slips. Yes, the shame came back to eat me alive. The shame threatened to stay and encouraged relapse. I almost allowed myself to become consumed with the shame, and I almost planned a relapse! BUT MY WORTH IS UNAFFECTED, and I finally remembered that. No more shame. It is what it is and I am who I am and I cannot change the past. I permit myself guilt and sorrow for sin, but I no longer permit shame!
5. My ADHD. I have ADHD! I just do. And I forget things and I get scared about calling people back and I can't focus on one thing for very long. I do feel bad for leaving people hanging. I do feel sorry about all the times I have been irresponsible with my peers. But sorrow and shame are not the same, and I refuse to allow my scatter-brained tendencies to bring me shame any longer.
After all, my worth is unaltered by it.
Okay. I think that's good for now. I am tired of shame. I am tired of secrets. I don't want to be imprisoned by them anymore, not for one more second. I'm this close to divulging to my Facebook friends and everyone I know that I struggle with this addiction. I am so tired of holding back on my comments to some people because if I say too much, it'll reveal my addiction. I just want to do it! I will, too. Soon.
Also, I told my kids about this addiction. For FHE on Monday, we talked about addiction, pornography addiction, and my pornography addiction. I kept it light and real. I didn't want it to be a stiff, awkward environment, so I just talked about it like it was easy. I cried when I told them how horrible it is to be trapped in the darkness, and when I told them how pornography affected every part of me. I cried when I told them that Jesus will rescue all who wish to be rescued, and that He is rescuing me. Now they know why I passed up the Sacrament so many times. Now they know why I only just now began going to the temple. And now they know what to do when they encounter pornography themselves. And I hope they will feel like they can talk to me about it, because they now know I can talk to them about it. My dear children took the information very well. They asked some questions. They certainly didn't think less of me as a parent. I know it was the right thing to do, and I wish I'd told them earlier. They are 9 and 8. I'm going to talk about it frequently now so they won't ever feel awkward about it.
I also believe that since I am open with them, they will be open with me when it matters (and when it doesn't for that matter).
I'm happy to report that I am back on the path! And I'm doing better than I was the day before I slipped. I am refocused and determined. I am sad (but not ashamed) that it took a slip to wake me. Next time, I'll humble myself before I reach that point.
Onward!
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Pioneer Shoes on the 2nd Day
Remember how I said I'm going to change my shoes? Well, I didn't. I took my laced shoes off but didn't put any shoes back on. And then I slipped. Twice. And today is Day 2, and it wasn't worth it.
But I do not have to stay on the ground. I am the proverbial Phoenix, rising above the ashes, only the ashes came from my own self-inflicted ruin. But, that doesn't matter as much as rising does!! I really believe that. Rising takes courage and faith, every time. I wish I could go back to when I was so discouraged about getting back on my feet every time and tell myself, "This matters. Sure, you might believe that you're just going to fall again. Sure, you might believe that you will spend the rest of your life in this rise and fall dance. But, this matters. Every time you rise, it matters. Thank you for getting up time after time after time."
Anyway, I am standing now, and facing my God!
And today I put on a pair of new shoes. Pioneer shoes. My ward's youth went on a pioneer trek to Martin's cove and the returned at about 1:00 this morning. The Youth went to church in their pioneer clothing and they bore their testimonies about their wonderful experiences. I was sort of half-listening because I had figured that these young men and young women couldn't tell me anything I didn't already know. Then something whispered "listen." And I tuned in more, and I chose to believe that I could learn something after all.
As I listened more intently, one story stood out to me. A young man said that he came to a hill with his handcart and looked up wondering how he could make it up. But he said as we walked up the hill, he felt like his burden was made light. He felt like someone was helping him with his cart, with his burden. And then I understood this:
Angels will help me. My Father will send me angels to help me carry my heavy handcart. He sent angels to help the pioneers, and I am no less worthy, no less valued than those pioneers. But, if I stand at the bottom of the hill before it gets steep, staring at it with fear and dread, refusing to walk, then my handcart will become too heavy for me, even though the incline at that point is very low. No angels can help if I do not move. I must move! And when I do, when I take that step up the hill, carrying my load, that is when angels will attend who will make my load bearable.
Today, in my pioneer shoes, I will be courageous, and I will move. I will walk. I will believe.
But I do not have to stay on the ground. I am the proverbial Phoenix, rising above the ashes, only the ashes came from my own self-inflicted ruin. But, that doesn't matter as much as rising does!! I really believe that. Rising takes courage and faith, every time. I wish I could go back to when I was so discouraged about getting back on my feet every time and tell myself, "This matters. Sure, you might believe that you're just going to fall again. Sure, you might believe that you will spend the rest of your life in this rise and fall dance. But, this matters. Every time you rise, it matters. Thank you for getting up time after time after time."
Anyway, I am standing now, and facing my God!
And today I put on a pair of new shoes. Pioneer shoes. My ward's youth went on a pioneer trek to Martin's cove and the returned at about 1:00 this morning. The Youth went to church in their pioneer clothing and they bore their testimonies about their wonderful experiences. I was sort of half-listening because I had figured that these young men and young women couldn't tell me anything I didn't already know. Then something whispered "listen." And I tuned in more, and I chose to believe that I could learn something after all.
As I listened more intently, one story stood out to me. A young man said that he came to a hill with his handcart and looked up wondering how he could make it up. But he said as we walked up the hill, he felt like his burden was made light. He felt like someone was helping him with his cart, with his burden. And then I understood this:
Angels will help me. My Father will send me angels to help me carry my heavy handcart. He sent angels to help the pioneers, and I am no less worthy, no less valued than those pioneers. But, if I stand at the bottom of the hill before it gets steep, staring at it with fear and dread, refusing to walk, then my handcart will become too heavy for me, even though the incline at that point is very low. No angels can help if I do not move. I must move! And when I do, when I take that step up the hill, carrying my load, that is when angels will attend who will make my load bearable.
Today, in my pioneer shoes, I will be courageous, and I will move. I will walk. I will believe.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Am I Too Lost?
It's an endless process, isn't it?
I mean, 117 days "clean." It's day after day of the process of progress. It's nothing compared to my decades of active addiction.
What is active addiction, anyway? I guess it's when you're acting out on a regular basis without breaks of abstinence. I guess it's when you live from one fix to the next.
Well, I don't think I'm doing that anymore.
So what do non-addicts do when it's too big? What do regular people do to cope with pain and fear? What if there are so many emotions encompassing you and you can't even identify half of them but they are swallowing you and you are tiny compared to all the stuff around you? What do they do when doubt is bigger than belief? What do they do when fear is bigger than faith?
The other night I had a nightmare where I was driving and the driver in front of my car hit a bridge wall thing and then was ejected from her car and she was tumbling toward mine. She hit my hood and was all bent over it and looked up at me through the windshield. It was me. I hit myself. It was the creepiest thing. Maybe it was a warning that I would slip soon if I didn't change . . . something.
Slips only happen if you're not doing what you're supposed to do, right?
Jesus saves every day, and that is the good thing. That is the best thing. I am not yet too far gone to escape His love and grace.
It's never worth it. I never want to go back there. It's too hard there. It's too hard here, too, though, and here I have to feel it.
Sometimes I feel like the God I call to isn't listening. But... I know He is.
And the tears that fall are acid on my face. What is done cannot be undone. What is given away cannot be retrieved. What is abandoned cannot be reclaimed. The past is unchangeable.
I mean, 117 days "clean." It's day after day of the process of progress. It's nothing compared to my decades of active addiction.
What is active addiction, anyway? I guess it's when you're acting out on a regular basis without breaks of abstinence. I guess it's when you live from one fix to the next.
Well, I don't think I'm doing that anymore.
So what do non-addicts do when it's too big? What do regular people do to cope with pain and fear? What if there are so many emotions encompassing you and you can't even identify half of them but they are swallowing you and you are tiny compared to all the stuff around you? What do they do when doubt is bigger than belief? What do they do when fear is bigger than faith?
The other night I had a nightmare where I was driving and the driver in front of my car hit a bridge wall thing and then was ejected from her car and she was tumbling toward mine. She hit my hood and was all bent over it and looked up at me through the windshield. It was me. I hit myself. It was the creepiest thing. Maybe it was a warning that I would slip soon if I didn't change . . . something.
Slips only happen if you're not doing what you're supposed to do, right?
Jesus saves every day, and that is the good thing. That is the best thing. I am not yet too far gone to escape His love and grace.
It's never worth it. I never want to go back there. It's too hard there. It's too hard here, too, though, and here I have to feel it.
Sometimes I feel like the God I call to isn't listening. But... I know He is.
And the tears that fall are acid on my face. What is done cannot be undone. What is given away cannot be retrieved. What is abandoned cannot be reclaimed. The past is unchangeable.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Untied Laces
I walked around all day yesterday with untied laces. I knew they were untied. I knew I needed to tie them. I kept thinking, "I'll do it later."
I didn't do it later. What happened later, instead, was something shiny distracted me. I turned to face it. I knew it was dangerous. I knew I should look away immediately and focus again on my ultimate goal. But, I stared. I contemplated reaching for it. I figured I'd just look at it and keep walking forward (rationalization, anyone?), but by not paying attention to my feet, or focusing on Truth and redemption in front of me, I tripped on that daggum shoelace. I stumbled, and my knees met the ground, hard, and gravity was doing its job very well and pulling my upper body, with great momentum, to the ground.
But a couple of friends rushed in and caught me. Jesus sent them and they caught me before I crashed to the earth. And they lifted me. And there I stood, staring at my laces, wishing I'd tied them. I stood there in horror at what I'd just done. I stood there in tears, cursing my endless frailty. I stood there in gratitude for friends who caught me just before I'd have to say "I slipped."
Then, facing my Savior now, I voluntarily fell to my knees, seeking forgiveness and strength. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
It seems that talking about sex with men who want to talk about sex is still an enormous weakness for me. I feel so very, very weak. I no longer seek those conversations, but, evidently, when the opportunity presents itself, and I haven't tied my laces, I am not strong enough.
After rising from talking to my God (who, by the way, was exceedingly gentle with me), I bent down to tie my laces. But then I had a better idea. I'm in the process now of changing my shoes. No laces. No Velcro. Nothing that can come undone.
While in the attitude of sorrowful, pleading prayer, God my Father reminded me gently that my worth remains unaltered. He reminded me gently that while I am focused on this one moment, this one failure, this one horrible choice- that He sees the eternal me. He doesn't see me as this one moment in time, like I do. He sees everything. I am not that one moment to Him, as I was to me, in that moment. But, I am all moments of me to Him. This moment, this mistake, doesn't define my whole.
Today, I'm trying on new shoes. Today, I'm returning with focus to the Savior. I'm building fortifications in my weakest areas. Regardless of what happened last night, today I will grasp the rod of iron and walk, looking forward.
I didn't do it later. What happened later, instead, was something shiny distracted me. I turned to face it. I knew it was dangerous. I knew I should look away immediately and focus again on my ultimate goal. But, I stared. I contemplated reaching for it. I figured I'd just look at it and keep walking forward (rationalization, anyone?), but by not paying attention to my feet, or focusing on Truth and redemption in front of me, I tripped on that daggum shoelace. I stumbled, and my knees met the ground, hard, and gravity was doing its job very well and pulling my upper body, with great momentum, to the ground.
But a couple of friends rushed in and caught me. Jesus sent them and they caught me before I crashed to the earth. And they lifted me. And there I stood, staring at my laces, wishing I'd tied them. I stood there in horror at what I'd just done. I stood there in tears, cursing my endless frailty. I stood there in gratitude for friends who caught me just before I'd have to say "I slipped."
Then, facing my Savior now, I voluntarily fell to my knees, seeking forgiveness and strength. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
It seems that talking about sex with men who want to talk about sex is still an enormous weakness for me. I feel so very, very weak. I no longer seek those conversations, but, evidently, when the opportunity presents itself, and I haven't tied my laces, I am not strong enough.
After rising from talking to my God (who, by the way, was exceedingly gentle with me), I bent down to tie my laces. But then I had a better idea. I'm in the process now of changing my shoes. No laces. No Velcro. Nothing that can come undone.
While in the attitude of sorrowful, pleading prayer, God my Father reminded me gently that my worth remains unaltered. He reminded me gently that while I am focused on this one moment, this one failure, this one horrible choice- that He sees the eternal me. He doesn't see me as this one moment in time, like I do. He sees everything. I am not that one moment to Him, as I was to me, in that moment. But, I am all moments of me to Him. This moment, this mistake, doesn't define my whole.
Today, I'm trying on new shoes. Today, I'm returning with focus to the Savior. I'm building fortifications in my weakest areas. Regardless of what happened last night, today I will grasp the rod of iron and walk, looking forward.
Monday, July 22, 2013
For Today Only
Just for today, I will sacrifice my selfish desires
I will think of Thee every moment
I will take instruction
I will repent.
I will hush.
I will open my heart
And offer its broken pieces
Into Thy hands is my promise, Lord, just for today.
Just for today, Lord, I will forgive myself
I will forgive my enemies who conspire
To destroy my peace.
I will love.
I will breathe.
I will see the beauty
That saturates all the space around me
For just today, I will notice only what is good.
Lord, just for today, I will behave as though
I am who I wish to become
I will be gentle with me
I will seek.
I will find.
I will allow Thy healing
To encompass, comfort, lead
Oh, expunge my soul, Lord! Just for today.
And for today only, I will not give up
But I surrender
I will not look back
But I look up
And to our common enemy, I will not yield!
But in Thy hands, oh Lord, I am clay.
Just for today.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
As God Sees Me
On July 18, 2010, I wrote my first blog post! I have kept this blog for three years and one day! What an adventure these last three years have been.
In honor of these three years, I spent a large portion of today reading some of my past posts. I am so grateful that I have kept this blog. I can see how far I have come. I can remember the misery of active addiction. I can see how God has been guiding me all this time. I look back on these posts, and I am filled with so much love for my own self! I see the then-me and I love her. I hold nothing against her! I hold nothing against me. As I've read these posts, I forgive myself! I forgive myself for every last incident, for every fall, for every misdeed, for every moment of pride. I forgive it all! I am not evil. I am not bad. I am okay, you know? I'm okay! And I always have been.
I'm really, truly, deeply seeing that nothing I have done has altered my worth.
When I was kissing that man after he told me I was married, my worth was unaltered. Even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I was looking at pornography when my kids were awake, my worth was unaltered, even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I tried alcohol for the first time ever, my worth was unaltered, even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I slipped after 78 days of abstinence -- my longest run till that point -- my worth was unaltered, even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I believed Satan's lies that women who are addicted to pornography are freaks of nature, my worth was unaltered. And I forgive myself for my ignorance.
When I wished to die, my worth was unaltered, even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I went to Burlesque, and stayed even after I could no longer deny that I shouldn't be there, my worth was unaltered. Even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I felt despicable and worthless for continued failure, my worth was unaltered, even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
I look to the former-me with love and compassion. The former-me is the real-me and the now-me because I cannot be separated from myself. I have reconciled the addict and my spirit and they are one. No more duality! I love all of me! I accept all of me!
I want to share something with you. In writing this post, a prayer was answered. I have been asking my Father to reveal to me, to give me just a glimpse, of who I am to Him; of how He sees me. And as I was writing about how I see the then-me, I was struck with an understanding that my God sees me that way, too. He doesn't hold those against me! In His eyes, my worth never changed! Not for one second! Not even in those dark, rebellious moment of sin and despair. He has regarded me always as His daughter, as His special daughter, as a daughter always worthy of love. He has never loved me less, and He has always regarded me as worthy of love.
I see how I was three years ago and I look at her with compassion, love, and forgiveness. I look at her with a plea to come to God! I want to tell the then-me, "Oh, Stephanie. Don't you know you only need to face God and walk? Don't you see how beautiful and precious you are? Don't you know that you can be free? Don't you know God will heal you? Oh, won't you come unto Him and be healed? I forgive you. I love you. I accept every part of you."
I want to tell her that, and so now I'm telling me that -- the now-me -- and God is telling that, too. He sees me with love, compassion and forgiveness, and with a plea to return to Him.
Recovery is so hard every single day! But moments like this remind me why I'm doing it.
I'm thankful for the lessons of the past three years. I forgive myself for taking so long to achieve measurable sobriety. I am glad I've kept this blog, and most of all, I'm grateful for the miracle of the Atonement, which miracle turns me into a miracle as well. I'm thankful tonight for answered prayers.
God with you!
In honor of these three years, I spent a large portion of today reading some of my past posts. I am so grateful that I have kept this blog. I can see how far I have come. I can remember the misery of active addiction. I can see how God has been guiding me all this time. I look back on these posts, and I am filled with so much love for my own self! I see the then-me and I love her. I hold nothing against her! I hold nothing against me. As I've read these posts, I forgive myself! I forgive myself for every last incident, for every fall, for every misdeed, for every moment of pride. I forgive it all! I am not evil. I am not bad. I am okay, you know? I'm okay! And I always have been.
I'm really, truly, deeply seeing that nothing I have done has altered my worth.
When I was kissing that man after he told me I was married, my worth was unaltered. Even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I was looking at pornography when my kids were awake, my worth was unaltered, even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I tried alcohol for the first time ever, my worth was unaltered, even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I slipped after 78 days of abstinence -- my longest run till that point -- my worth was unaltered, even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I believed Satan's lies that women who are addicted to pornography are freaks of nature, my worth was unaltered. And I forgive myself for my ignorance.
When I wished to die, my worth was unaltered, even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I went to Burlesque, and stayed even after I could no longer deny that I shouldn't be there, my worth was unaltered. Even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
When I felt despicable and worthless for continued failure, my worth was unaltered, even in the moment! And I forgive myself.
I look to the former-me with love and compassion. The former-me is the real-me and the now-me because I cannot be separated from myself. I have reconciled the addict and my spirit and they are one. No more duality! I love all of me! I accept all of me!
I want to share something with you. In writing this post, a prayer was answered. I have been asking my Father to reveal to me, to give me just a glimpse, of who I am to Him; of how He sees me. And as I was writing about how I see the then-me, I was struck with an understanding that my God sees me that way, too. He doesn't hold those against me! In His eyes, my worth never changed! Not for one second! Not even in those dark, rebellious moment of sin and despair. He has regarded me always as His daughter, as His special daughter, as a daughter always worthy of love. He has never loved me less, and He has always regarded me as worthy of love.
I see how I was three years ago and I look at her with compassion, love, and forgiveness. I look at her with a plea to come to God! I want to tell the then-me, "Oh, Stephanie. Don't you know you only need to face God and walk? Don't you see how beautiful and precious you are? Don't you know that you can be free? Don't you know God will heal you? Oh, won't you come unto Him and be healed? I forgive you. I love you. I accept every part of you."
I want to tell her that, and so now I'm telling me that -- the now-me -- and God is telling that, too. He sees me with love, compassion and forgiveness, and with a plea to return to Him.
Recovery is so hard every single day! But moments like this remind me why I'm doing it.
I'm thankful for the lessons of the past three years. I forgive myself for taking so long to achieve measurable sobriety. I am glad I've kept this blog, and most of all, I'm grateful for the miracle of the Atonement, which miracle turns me into a miracle as well. I'm thankful tonight for answered prayers.
God with you!
Monday, July 15, 2013
Don't You Know You're Free?
So Near So Far
by Stephanie Martin
Hey, little birdie, don't you know you're free?
The bars at the top are broken, you see.
You can fly away right out of your cage
Out of your prison, why don't you flee?
Hey, little birdie, won't you be a sage?
You could sing your song on your very own stage
But you cry in sorrow and pity instead
In hopelessness you choose to engage.
Hey, little birdie, lift up your head!
I hear you say you wish you were dead
Because you are trapped, or so you believe,
But for so long, now, you could have fled.
Oh, little birdie, how sad to grieve
When inches away is your reprieve
Above you waits the open air
For you to make the choice to leave.
And yet, little birdie, you feel despair
Believing life unjust; unfair
You say "All I want is to be free;
"Why has no one heard my prayer?"
Hey, little birdie, won't you listen to me?
The bars at the top are broken, you see
Fly away now, and you can be free
Fly away now, and you will be free.
7.10.13
by Stephanie Martin
Hey, little birdie, don't you know you're free?
The bars at the top are broken, you see.
You can fly away right out of your cage
Out of your prison, why don't you flee?
Hey, little birdie, won't you be a sage?
You could sing your song on your very own stage
But you cry in sorrow and pity instead
In hopelessness you choose to engage.
Hey, little birdie, lift up your head!
I hear you say you wish you were dead
Because you are trapped, or so you believe,
But for so long, now, you could have fled.
Oh, little birdie, how sad to grieve
When inches away is your reprieve
Above you waits the open air
For you to make the choice to leave.
And yet, little birdie, you feel despair
Believing life unjust; unfair
You say "All I want is to be free;
"Why has no one heard my prayer?"
Hey, little birdie, won't you listen to me?
The bars at the top are broken, you see
Fly away now, and you can be free
Fly away now, and you will be free.
7.10.13
Saturday, July 13, 2013
On the Verge of a Breakthrough
Have you ever felt like you're so close to breaking down a wall, but you've run out of tools to demolish it? I feel like I've been walking toward this great wall, and I have seen it from a long ways back so I've been trying to throw stuff at it to break it down. As I neared it, I have been using other tools. And now that I'm AT it, I have been using everything I have: hammers, scrapers, explosives, etc. But it still stands. Much of it has crumbled, but not enough for me to get through. And, nothing I have access to is working to bring it down.
I feel like just over the fence is a new lesson, a new enlightenment, a new revelation. I feel like just past the fence is a new joy, a new faith. And I'm so close! But there is something that is holding me back.
I feel like the tool I need is obvious. I feel like it's exactly where I need it. But I can't see it!
It has something to do with honesty, I think. I'm trying hard to be honest. I'm missing something.
That's where I am right now. I can't linger here on this side of the fence, because we all know what failure to progress will do. I've got to find a way through it.
Going to the temple today. Hoping for answers. Hoping for courage.
I feel like just over the fence is a new lesson, a new enlightenment, a new revelation. I feel like just past the fence is a new joy, a new faith. And I'm so close! But there is something that is holding me back.
I feel like the tool I need is obvious. I feel like it's exactly where I need it. But I can't see it!
It has something to do with honesty, I think. I'm trying hard to be honest. I'm missing something.
That's where I am right now. I can't linger here on this side of the fence, because we all know what failure to progress will do. I've got to find a way through it.
Going to the temple today. Hoping for answers. Hoping for courage.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Throwin' in the Towel
I've been fighting again. Today, I decided to surrender. Finally.
I'm so sick of the fight. I'm exhausted. I'm doing Step 3 again- turning to God. Deciding. I don't want to. I just want to linger in this valley a little longer. I feel like I'm not ready to climb again.
Forget it. Forget views, forget comments, forget masks and games. Forget prose, forget grammar. Forget armor. I'm takin' it off and throwing it down, and clothing with the armor of God instead, I hope. I've been wearing this breastplate to "protect" my heart, but it's really only blocked people from getting to it. Worse, it's blocked God from getting to it.
Why do I do this when I know what I know? Why do reject truth, time and time again when I know what happened the last time I rejected truth? I know what to do. I know how to fight a good fight.
But, I'm fighting a dumb fight now. I'm fighting against the Truth. Every day I want just one more day of Pepsi. Every day I want just one more day of idleness. Just one more day of selfishness with my time. Just one more day of ignoring the Spirit.
Just one more step closer to old ways.
This needs to change now. Now.
Today at my first ever women's PASG meeting, we read the introduction of the manual. And this quote by Dallin H Oaks punched me in the face:
We should avoid any behavior that is addictive.
Whatever is addictive compromises our will. Subjecting
our will to the overbearing impulses imposed by any
form of addiction serves Satan’s purposes and subverts
our Heavenly Father’s. This applies to addictions to
drugs (such as narcotics, alcohol, nicotine, or caffeine),
addiction to practices such as gambling, and any other
addictive behavior.
I have already learned that addiction of any kind, including Pepsi, robs me of the Spirit. And I feel like by giving into this relapse of Pepsi I've been having, that I spit in the face of Jesus. Reading this quote tonight was harrowing. Yes, even addiction to caffeine "serves Satan's purposes and subverts our Heavenly Father's."
I knew what I had to do then, and I made the decision that I would finish the Pepsi in my fridge and start fresh tomorrow. And I knew that was the wrong decision, but it was the best I could do at the moment. Then I drove away from the meeting and opened up my armor a bit and let my heart commune with God. And I cried. And I let Him teach me a little more than before. No more Pepsi. No more running.
I have forgotten that God is good. I have forgotten that to Him, I matter. I haven't forgotten it on a logical sense, but I have failed to feel it for awhile. I have been taking back my will that I gave Him some time ago. I cannot afford to be weakened in this way.
Sometimes, I feel like there must be something wrong with me mentally. But, I think this is how it goes. I think this is how life goes. I think this is how being a human goes.
It's time to make my heart accessible once again. It's time to expose the real me and risk getting hurt. There is no growth without risk.
A letter to God-
Dear God, my Father,
Here I am. This is me. I give Thee my heart one more time. My will is weak; strengthen it! My faith is dying; revive it! I know that when I walk to Thee, I am empowered. And so, here I am. Here's my heart. Help Thou my unbelief!
I'm ready to be happy again. I'm ready to be Thine again. I'm ready, Lord.
I'm so sick of the fight. I'm exhausted. I'm doing Step 3 again- turning to God. Deciding. I don't want to. I just want to linger in this valley a little longer. I feel like I'm not ready to climb again.
Forget it. Forget views, forget comments, forget masks and games. Forget prose, forget grammar. Forget armor. I'm takin' it off and throwing it down, and clothing with the armor of God instead, I hope. I've been wearing this breastplate to "protect" my heart, but it's really only blocked people from getting to it. Worse, it's blocked God from getting to it.
Why do I do this when I know what I know? Why do reject truth, time and time again when I know what happened the last time I rejected truth? I know what to do. I know how to fight a good fight.
But, I'm fighting a dumb fight now. I'm fighting against the Truth. Every day I want just one more day of Pepsi. Every day I want just one more day of idleness. Just one more day of selfishness with my time. Just one more day of ignoring the Spirit.
Just one more step closer to old ways.
This needs to change now. Now.
Today at my first ever women's PASG meeting, we read the introduction of the manual. And this quote by Dallin H Oaks punched me in the face:
Whatever is addictive compromises our will. Subjecting
our will to the overbearing impulses imposed by any
form of addiction serves Satan’s purposes and subverts
our Heavenly Father’s. This applies to addictions to
drugs (such as narcotics, alcohol, nicotine, or caffeine),
addiction to practices such as gambling, and any other
addictive behavior.
I have already learned that addiction of any kind, including Pepsi, robs me of the Spirit. And I feel like by giving into this relapse of Pepsi I've been having, that I spit in the face of Jesus. Reading this quote tonight was harrowing. Yes, even addiction to caffeine "serves Satan's purposes and subverts our Heavenly Father's."
I knew what I had to do then, and I made the decision that I would finish the Pepsi in my fridge and start fresh tomorrow. And I knew that was the wrong decision, but it was the best I could do at the moment. Then I drove away from the meeting and opened up my armor a bit and let my heart commune with God. And I cried. And I let Him teach me a little more than before. No more Pepsi. No more running.
I have forgotten that God is good. I have forgotten that to Him, I matter. I haven't forgotten it on a logical sense, but I have failed to feel it for awhile. I have been taking back my will that I gave Him some time ago. I cannot afford to be weakened in this way.
Sometimes, I feel like there must be something wrong with me mentally. But, I think this is how it goes. I think this is how life goes. I think this is how being a human goes.
It's time to make my heart accessible once again. It's time to expose the real me and risk getting hurt. There is no growth without risk.
A letter to God-
Dear God, my Father,
Here I am. This is me. I give Thee my heart one more time. My will is weak; strengthen it! My faith is dying; revive it! I know that when I walk to Thee, I am empowered. And so, here I am. Here's my heart. Help Thou my unbelief!
I'm ready to be happy again. I'm ready to be Thine again. I'm ready, Lord.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
To the Men I Used
This is going to be a very open, very vulnerable post. But, I need to write it.
I have found that shame is dispelled by acknowledging the truth. And I'm going to do some acknowledging here, and it ain't gonna be pretty. It is my hope and belief that by sharing so openly, someone will relate to this post and be lifted by it.
I don't really know what to call my addiction. At the PASG and ARP meetings, I always say "My name is Stephanie and I'm recovering from sexual addictions." I'm addicted to pornography, yes- but that's a facet of a much bigger disease. I used to call myself a sex addict, but upon further research, it seems that that term is reserved for those who sleep with a lot of people. I don't. I guess "sexual addictions" works just fine. I guess that covers the men, too.
I feel horrible for using men in the way I did. It started with my husband, at the end of our marriage. Some part of me shut off, and I used him for sex. He used me as well. Our intimate relationship became so empty, and so depressing. I would feel so used, and guilty for using, every time. At first, I was just going with him, you know- I wanted desperately to save the marriage, and I thought that by sacrificing my morals, I could keep my husband. Instead, I lost self-respect and my husband. He used me first, and I kinda thought, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So it was about lust at the end of our marriage, and I am telling you, lustful sex is not beautiful. It is not good. It is not virtuous, lovely, or of good report. It's dirty, and low, and left me feeling much like I felt after viewing pornography. Somehow, lustful sex is not remotely satisfying. It's not fulfilling.
I'm sorry I used my husband, and I'm sorry I allowed him to use my body.
After the divorce, I was an emotional wreck. I didn't know up from down. I was just out there, hanging and exposed for all to see. I had this neighbor who was very attractive, and he would flirt with me. He lived with his girlfriend. He would tell me I was sexy. I lapped it up. I would look for reasons to go to his apartment. I even got to the point where I justified that it would be okay if he kissed me because he wasn't married. And I even had this scenario in my head where he would kiss me and I would enjoy it just long enough before I backed away and pretended like I was angry at him for pulling such a stunt. I wasn't even divorced yet, when I first had these thoughts. I mean, the divorce was in process, but not official. Honestly, at that time, it didn't really occur to me that I was sinning in those thoughts about my attractive neighbor. Nothing ever came of them, fortunately, but the thoughts were sinful.
Before I was married, I had kissed two men. My first kiss happened 12 days before my 20th birthday. I was in love with that boy. We dated a long time. We broke up and I dated another guy, and kissed him. Then my husband was next. I didn't use any of those men except my husband at the end.
But, after my marriage-- Whoa.
Somehow, I managed to make it two years after divorce before my next kiss. His name was Michael and I'd known him for many years. He found out I was divorced and we began texting each other. In almost no time, the texts were intensely sexual. I told him I wanted to kiss him. I told him I wanted him to be my first kiss after my divorce. He was significantly older than I was, and not someone I would ever consider dating-- and that was my thing. I couldn't respect these guys, or I couldn't use them. I actually told Michael, "I just want to use you." and he said the same thing back.
Anyway, one day I met Michael and we made out in his bed and I went from two years of never touching a man to two hours of almost giving up everything I love the most. It was close, but I told him I had to go just before I would have given everything. And then I was done with him. Forever, and for good. I ignored his texts from that point on, and hoped to never run into him. I was done. He wasn't a human with a soul; he was a body with man parts.
I felt so sick after that. I walked around for weeks carrying a boulder in my gut that was filled with poison. Every step I made, I thought of my sins with that man, and I wanted to die. Of course I confessed it all, and I expected that I would have a disciplinary council, perhaps, because of how close I was. But, I didn't.
I honed my using skills after that, and didn't go that far again for another two years or so. The next man I used (a few months after Michael), I feel the worst about. I don't know if I should feel worse about any of them, because all were human. But, the next one was a nice, good guy. None of them deserved to be treated like a body part, but perhaps least of all this guy. He liked me for me. I liked him for his kissing and cuddling. I used him for that for a few weeks, then just started ignoring him. I was done. I had grown tired of him, so that was that. I'm so sorry, Man #2. I'm so sorry.
I hate the most how easy it was for me to wash my hands of these guys. I am so sorry!
After him, I decided to not use guys for that much time again. No more of this several-weeks nonsense. That just made disposal stickier. This wasn't a conscious decision, though. So, the men after that were strangers. I would look for ways for it to not be my fault. I wanted to blame him, whomever it was, so I could more easily justify my desires. One guy I made out with until he asked me to come home with him. Nope! Finished with you, thank you very much. One guy, I made out with till he told me he was married. And that's not true. I let him kiss me one more time after he told me. That still disgusts me. That one still is a source of shame. I hope if you're reading this, and it helps you somehow, that you will tell me! I feel so exposed!
Anyway, one guy was my behavioral rock bottom. He was a repeat of Michael, only more than once. I lost myself. He was one year ago. I can't even believe that! I am light years away from that place, emotionally. It's so strange that it was only just over a year ago! Anyway, I'm sorry I used him, and all the other guys.
And to the guy I dated for a few weeks last summer, I'm sorry I used you. I knew I was going to break up with him, but I wanted to make out with him at least one more time before I let him know that we were through. It's one thing to mess with someone's body; it's another thing to mess with someone's heart. This was also a year ago (different guy, though). What a rotten thing it is to use a human in the ways I did! They are sons of a most high God, and I treated them like they were tools made just for me, just for my own private use. And that is sick.
I used other men online. I would string them along, get them to tell me what I wanted to hear, and then pretend like I was shocked that they thought of me like that. I believed, in a way, that I was shocked. And it did truly offend the purer part of me that was trying to break free. But, to be honest, I would ask for it, and then blame the guy for doing exactly what I wanted him to do. I would usually give him a lecture and then say we can never talk again.
Don't get me wrong- I always felt bad for what I'd done. I confessed to my bishop each incident. But, even while feeling horrible, I also didn't care about what the guy felt. Like, it was so easy to kick him out of my life once I was done with him. I really hate that.
My addiction doesn't reign anymore. That wasn't me- that wasn't the true, genuine me. I care about people! I hate when people are hurting! I am blessed with compassion and empathy so strong that sometimes I can't stand it. But when my addict was ruling, I used humans! I ignored my natural compassion, and treated men like they were my own personal playthings. It's astonishing to me that addiction can be that powerful to change a person's very nature. I let it take over all because I wanted a kiss for a moment.
But, let's be fair here, and let's be real. I didn't really want to use these guys. I didn't even really want to kiss them. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to cease being lonely. I wanted to feel important. I wanted to feel like someone out there, a man particularly, needed me, wanted me, loved me. And it's insane to think that a make-out session with a stranger could ever make me feel loved. But that's all I wanted. And that is a healthy desire. I listened to Satan tell me that a desire to be loved was the same thing as a desire to be kissed.
It's important to be real with myself and recognize that while my behavior was truly deplorable, my reasons were healthy. And I forgive myself, because I simply didn't know how to find what I wanted and needed. And I was so conditioned by Satan's reasoning that I could not see the truth. I could not see clearly. For some time, I truly believed that some of these were "just a kiss," and that since we didn't go beyond kissing, I wasn't making a bad choice. But even when it did end at kissing, I was still using him for my selfish desires.
Also, I am overweight, and it sometimes seems like many LDS single men my age are the most superficial of all men. I always felt like I could a date anywhere but inside the Church, because of my weight. Men outside the church saw me for me. Well, finding these guys who would make out with me gave me the "I still got it!" mentality. I'm fat, I've got kids, and I can still seduce a man and convince him to want me. I enjoyed that feeling of "even though I'm fat, I'm still desirable." And I looked forward to that validation. And I craved that validation. And I didn't feel my own sense of worth, and I judged my own self for being fat, so I had to get validation elsewhere.
To the Men I Used,
I'm sorry I did it. I hope you can understand how broken I was. I didn't get that I was worth something, and that I didn't need you to prove it. I only wanted to mean something to somebody! I'm sorry I tried to extract that meaning from your bodies. I'm not like that anymore. I hope you will forgive me.
Sincerely,
~Stephanie
I have found that shame is dispelled by acknowledging the truth. And I'm going to do some acknowledging here, and it ain't gonna be pretty. It is my hope and belief that by sharing so openly, someone will relate to this post and be lifted by it.
I don't really know what to call my addiction. At the PASG and ARP meetings, I always say "My name is Stephanie and I'm recovering from sexual addictions." I'm addicted to pornography, yes- but that's a facet of a much bigger disease. I used to call myself a sex addict, but upon further research, it seems that that term is reserved for those who sleep with a lot of people. I don't. I guess "sexual addictions" works just fine. I guess that covers the men, too.
I feel horrible for using men in the way I did. It started with my husband, at the end of our marriage. Some part of me shut off, and I used him for sex. He used me as well. Our intimate relationship became so empty, and so depressing. I would feel so used, and guilty for using, every time. At first, I was just going with him, you know- I wanted desperately to save the marriage, and I thought that by sacrificing my morals, I could keep my husband. Instead, I lost self-respect and my husband. He used me first, and I kinda thought, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So it was about lust at the end of our marriage, and I am telling you, lustful sex is not beautiful. It is not good. It is not virtuous, lovely, or of good report. It's dirty, and low, and left me feeling much like I felt after viewing pornography. Somehow, lustful sex is not remotely satisfying. It's not fulfilling.
I'm sorry I used my husband, and I'm sorry I allowed him to use my body.
After the divorce, I was an emotional wreck. I didn't know up from down. I was just out there, hanging and exposed for all to see. I had this neighbor who was very attractive, and he would flirt with me. He lived with his girlfriend. He would tell me I was sexy. I lapped it up. I would look for reasons to go to his apartment. I even got to the point where I justified that it would be okay if he kissed me because he wasn't married. And I even had this scenario in my head where he would kiss me and I would enjoy it just long enough before I backed away and pretended like I was angry at him for pulling such a stunt. I wasn't even divorced yet, when I first had these thoughts. I mean, the divorce was in process, but not official. Honestly, at that time, it didn't really occur to me that I was sinning in those thoughts about my attractive neighbor. Nothing ever came of them, fortunately, but the thoughts were sinful.
Before I was married, I had kissed two men. My first kiss happened 12 days before my 20th birthday. I was in love with that boy. We dated a long time. We broke up and I dated another guy, and kissed him. Then my husband was next. I didn't use any of those men except my husband at the end.
But, after my marriage-- Whoa.
Somehow, I managed to make it two years after divorce before my next kiss. His name was Michael and I'd known him for many years. He found out I was divorced and we began texting each other. In almost no time, the texts were intensely sexual. I told him I wanted to kiss him. I told him I wanted him to be my first kiss after my divorce. He was significantly older than I was, and not someone I would ever consider dating-- and that was my thing. I couldn't respect these guys, or I couldn't use them. I actually told Michael, "I just want to use you." and he said the same thing back.
Anyway, one day I met Michael and we made out in his bed and I went from two years of never touching a man to two hours of almost giving up everything I love the most. It was close, but I told him I had to go just before I would have given everything. And then I was done with him. Forever, and for good. I ignored his texts from that point on, and hoped to never run into him. I was done. He wasn't a human with a soul; he was a body with man parts.
I felt so sick after that. I walked around for weeks carrying a boulder in my gut that was filled with poison. Every step I made, I thought of my sins with that man, and I wanted to die. Of course I confessed it all, and I expected that I would have a disciplinary council, perhaps, because of how close I was. But, I didn't.
I honed my using skills after that, and didn't go that far again for another two years or so. The next man I used (a few months after Michael), I feel the worst about. I don't know if I should feel worse about any of them, because all were human. But, the next one was a nice, good guy. None of them deserved to be treated like a body part, but perhaps least of all this guy. He liked me for me. I liked him for his kissing and cuddling. I used him for that for a few weeks, then just started ignoring him. I was done. I had grown tired of him, so that was that. I'm so sorry, Man #2. I'm so sorry.
I hate the most how easy it was for me to wash my hands of these guys. I am so sorry!
After him, I decided to not use guys for that much time again. No more of this several-weeks nonsense. That just made disposal stickier. This wasn't a conscious decision, though. So, the men after that were strangers. I would look for ways for it to not be my fault. I wanted to blame him, whomever it was, so I could more easily justify my desires. One guy I made out with until he asked me to come home with him. Nope! Finished with you, thank you very much. One guy, I made out with till he told me he was married. And that's not true. I let him kiss me one more time after he told me. That still disgusts me. That one still is a source of shame. I hope if you're reading this, and it helps you somehow, that you will tell me! I feel so exposed!
Anyway, one guy was my behavioral rock bottom. He was a repeat of Michael, only more than once. I lost myself. He was one year ago. I can't even believe that! I am light years away from that place, emotionally. It's so strange that it was only just over a year ago! Anyway, I'm sorry I used him, and all the other guys.
And to the guy I dated for a few weeks last summer, I'm sorry I used you. I knew I was going to break up with him, but I wanted to make out with him at least one more time before I let him know that we were through. It's one thing to mess with someone's body; it's another thing to mess with someone's heart. This was also a year ago (different guy, though). What a rotten thing it is to use a human in the ways I did! They are sons of a most high God, and I treated them like they were tools made just for me, just for my own private use. And that is sick.
I used other men online. I would string them along, get them to tell me what I wanted to hear, and then pretend like I was shocked that they thought of me like that. I believed, in a way, that I was shocked. And it did truly offend the purer part of me that was trying to break free. But, to be honest, I would ask for it, and then blame the guy for doing exactly what I wanted him to do. I would usually give him a lecture and then say we can never talk again.
Don't get me wrong- I always felt bad for what I'd done. I confessed to my bishop each incident. But, even while feeling horrible, I also didn't care about what the guy felt. Like, it was so easy to kick him out of my life once I was done with him. I really hate that.
My addiction doesn't reign anymore. That wasn't me- that wasn't the true, genuine me. I care about people! I hate when people are hurting! I am blessed with compassion and empathy so strong that sometimes I can't stand it. But when my addict was ruling, I used humans! I ignored my natural compassion, and treated men like they were my own personal playthings. It's astonishing to me that addiction can be that powerful to change a person's very nature. I let it take over all because I wanted a kiss for a moment.
But, let's be fair here, and let's be real. I didn't really want to use these guys. I didn't even really want to kiss them. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to cease being lonely. I wanted to feel important. I wanted to feel like someone out there, a man particularly, needed me, wanted me, loved me. And it's insane to think that a make-out session with a stranger could ever make me feel loved. But that's all I wanted. And that is a healthy desire. I listened to Satan tell me that a desire to be loved was the same thing as a desire to be kissed.
It's important to be real with myself and recognize that while my behavior was truly deplorable, my reasons were healthy. And I forgive myself, because I simply didn't know how to find what I wanted and needed. And I was so conditioned by Satan's reasoning that I could not see the truth. I could not see clearly. For some time, I truly believed that some of these were "just a kiss," and that since we didn't go beyond kissing, I wasn't making a bad choice. But even when it did end at kissing, I was still using him for my selfish desires.
Also, I am overweight, and it sometimes seems like many LDS single men my age are the most superficial of all men. I always felt like I could a date anywhere but inside the Church, because of my weight. Men outside the church saw me for me. Well, finding these guys who would make out with me gave me the "I still got it!" mentality. I'm fat, I've got kids, and I can still seduce a man and convince him to want me. I enjoyed that feeling of "even though I'm fat, I'm still desirable." And I looked forward to that validation. And I craved that validation. And I didn't feel my own sense of worth, and I judged my own self for being fat, so I had to get validation elsewhere.
To the Men I Used,
I'm sorry I did it. I hope you can understand how broken I was. I didn't get that I was worth something, and that I didn't need you to prove it. I only wanted to mean something to somebody! I'm sorry I tried to extract that meaning from your bodies. I'm not like that anymore. I hope you will forgive me.
Sincerely,
~Stephanie
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
In Honor of 100 Days, a Haiku
nothing when the light is on.
Let's go home today.
Monday, July 8, 2013
100 Days at Chili's with Annette
What a fun day!
Today, Annette and I celebrated our 100 days sober! Today IS day 100, for both of us, so since we live near each other, we decided to celebrate together.
I hope you enjoy these pictures!
If we look happy, it's because that's what good choices do to a person.
Today, Annette and I celebrated our 100 days sober! Today IS day 100, for both of us, so since we live near each other, we decided to celebrate together.
I hope you enjoy these pictures!
If we look happy, it's because that's what good choices do to a person.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
To the Men
My heart is heavy.
Tonight was probably my last night attending the PASG meeting I've been attending for several months now. About a year, I think. Maybe more. Maybe less. I have come to know and love the men who attend. I have learned from them and grown because of them. I have come to love them, and appreciate them greatly. Oh, I will miss them.
The good news is, I will have a women's group to attend instead. They are kinda kicking us ladies out of the group because of the new women's group which begins next week. The bad news is, I will miss these men. A lot. And, the women's meeting is 30 minutes away.
Tonight's meeting was very short. Not many of the regular men were there. It's been hot here (we're talkin' 108 degrees hot), and maybe that kept some away. Plus, it's the week of the Fourth. I'm sad that many of the men I wanted to say goodbye to weren't there. But the meeting was spiritual, of course.
I want to say something to you men who are recovering from pornography addiction.
You are amazing. I see you in my PASG meetings and I read your blogs. You are good men. You give me hope that perhaps one day, I will also be able to find a good man. You show me what a good husband looks like. You work so hard on your marriages. You are patient with your wives as they take the time they need to trust you again. You want to be a good example for your children. You prepare yourself to be a good husband one day, or again. You take recovery seriously. You lean on Jesus for support and guidance. Your examples to me are priceless. I have come to learn so much from you and I have borrowed your strength when I had no more. Thank you for all that you do, and for who you are. I know some of you who are excommunicated and doing all you can to return. I know some of you who are going through divorces and doing all you can to keep your heads up. May God bless you in your times of trial and heartache, and may He continue to strengthen you, and keep you safe from harm and temptation. I love you. I care for you. I appreciate you.
And, to the men in my PASG group specifically, thank you from the bottom of my heart for showing me faith and hope. Thank you for welcoming me, even though I'm a woman. Thank you for your stories and your testimonies.
Most sincerely, and with hope,
~Stephanie J Martin
I am also excited for a women's group. But I'm scared. What if they won't accept me? What if I'm not as far in recovery as they are? What if I'm not like them? What if I don't make friends? Maybe even worse-- what if I do?
I've been praying an hoping for a women's group for so long and now it's here! Praise God! I didn't expect to meet this change with such resistance, though.
I am excited. I will let you know how it goes. :)
Tonight was probably my last night attending the PASG meeting I've been attending for several months now. About a year, I think. Maybe more. Maybe less. I have come to know and love the men who attend. I have learned from them and grown because of them. I have come to love them, and appreciate them greatly. Oh, I will miss them.
The good news is, I will have a women's group to attend instead. They are kinda kicking us ladies out of the group because of the new women's group which begins next week. The bad news is, I will miss these men. A lot. And, the women's meeting is 30 minutes away.
Tonight's meeting was very short. Not many of the regular men were there. It's been hot here (we're talkin' 108 degrees hot), and maybe that kept some away. Plus, it's the week of the Fourth. I'm sad that many of the men I wanted to say goodbye to weren't there. But the meeting was spiritual, of course.
I want to say something to you men who are recovering from pornography addiction.
You are amazing. I see you in my PASG meetings and I read your blogs. You are good men. You give me hope that perhaps one day, I will also be able to find a good man. You show me what a good husband looks like. You work so hard on your marriages. You are patient with your wives as they take the time they need to trust you again. You want to be a good example for your children. You prepare yourself to be a good husband one day, or again. You take recovery seriously. You lean on Jesus for support and guidance. Your examples to me are priceless. I have come to learn so much from you and I have borrowed your strength when I had no more. Thank you for all that you do, and for who you are. I know some of you who are excommunicated and doing all you can to return. I know some of you who are going through divorces and doing all you can to keep your heads up. May God bless you in your times of trial and heartache, and may He continue to strengthen you, and keep you safe from harm and temptation. I love you. I care for you. I appreciate you.
And, to the men in my PASG group specifically, thank you from the bottom of my heart for showing me faith and hope. Thank you for welcoming me, even though I'm a woman. Thank you for your stories and your testimonies.
Most sincerely, and with hope,
~Stephanie J Martin
I am also excited for a women's group. But I'm scared. What if they won't accept me? What if I'm not as far in recovery as they are? What if I'm not like them? What if I don't make friends? Maybe even worse-- what if I do?
I've been praying an hoping for a women's group for so long and now it's here! Praise God! I didn't expect to meet this change with such resistance, though.
I am excited. I will let you know how it goes. :)
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