Why Should my Strength Slacken Because of Mine Afflictions?

Things are hard right now.

My afflictions are not a few. I do not wish to presume that my life is more challenging than anyone else's, nor do I wish to imply that my charmed life is not filled with countless undeserved blessings. I still have everything I need.

But, things are hard. Circumstances are hard. I won't go into detail because the details don't matter in this case. Here's what matters: I slackened my strength because of my afflictions.

Somehow, my hardships gave me an excuse to return to not-so-old behaviors which I thought I'd abandoned. Somehow, I gave in to the weight of regular real-life, and I forgot what I'd learned. Somehow, my afflictions gave me almost-realistic justification.

The real-life consequence of my giving-in to real-life life is that I had to surrender my temple recommend. Even as I write that, the tears begin again. There is shame, there is. But, mostly, there is deep regret and genuine sorrow for my sins. I am disappointed in myself, but I refuse to berate myself. Somehow, by telling myself the truths, I take more ownership and responsibility for what I've done.

As a side note- I fought with myself about including that truth in this blog, that I lost my recommend. I worked so hard for that! I didn't want to admit that I gave it up again. I didn't want others to see me as a failure. I was afraid that if others knew about this, that they would think of me as having failed. I considered waiting a few months before I confessed that, because, somehow, after some time, it wouldn't feel as heavy. BUT. It is a part of my story, and it is a part of my story NOW. Also, I have not failed. As my bishop kindly and sweetly reminded me, this is not defeat. I can and will get my recommend back. I am inexplicably disappointed that I have regarded my covenants so lightly. I take responsibility and I will do everything I can to repent and return. I decided to admit it because it is my now, my story. I regret it deeply, friends. And I am repenting. How wonderful that I have the opportunity to repent! Even still, even again! How wonderful that I am not lost!

Okay, back on track--
If I give into the lies, they really become ugly excuses. "You're so stupid," makes it almost okay because then, the reason I did it was because I'm stupid. An excuse. "You're lazy." An excuse. "You're weak." Another excuse. All those lies that I buy into which Satan fills my head with following a slip have served as excuses! Additionally, they tear me down and make me want to sin more and more. If I believe I have no worth, then why should I do good? Satan is tricky, do you see? When he says "You're worthless/ugly/stupid/weak/lazy/fat/slutty/awful/evil," he is using a tactic. He is trying to pull us down so we'll stay down longer. He gives us an excuse for our past misdeeds, and plants seeds for future transgressions by telling these lies of lack of worth. Also, if I have an excuse, even a self-blaming one, I subconsciously tell myself I get to take on less responsibility, which halts true repentance. Misery breeds misery, and Satan knows that better than anyone else!

After my last slip, I, as usual, was so worried that I wouldn't feel bad enough if I didn't help Satan with his verbal abuse. I was terrified to repent the wrong way. What if I chose to believe I still had great worth and didn't feel genuine remorse for what I'd done? What if I didn't feel bad at all for something I believed I should feel miserable about? Did I actually have any degree of genuine remorse? What if I wasn't sorry? Certainly it was better to hate myself than to not feel sorrow, right?

A voice inside me told me to trust. Trust the process of repentance. Trust God. Trust myself. A voice inside me assured me that if I took out the self-brow-beating, then the way I felt would be exactly the way I was supposed to feel. A voice inside me convinced me that loathing and pummeling myself was wrong. So, I decided to try, and trust. I rejected all the lies. Every time that familiar "you're horrible" and its family members entered my consciousness, I flicked it away.

And then, something magical happened. When I prayed to my Father and told Him about the things I'd done, I was sorry. And I was sorry without pity! It wasn't hateful. It wasn't selfishly miserable. It was painful; so very, very painful. But it was real, and I knew it, and it was beautiful. It was empowering rather than degrading. It was encouraging rather than discouraging. It was hopeful and not hopeless. And it continues to be real.

I'm not so focused on the how I should feel, or the how I'm supposed to feel anymore. I just let it be. I know that as I make righteous choices, and as I keep my Father in Heaven in the loop, that even if I don't feel remorseful right away, I will. No more brow-beating. It's counter-productive and not of God. It's not repentance by any means, and how could it be? It's so selfish. It's me-centered. True repentance is God-centered.

When I talked to my bishop about my recent slips (I think I had enough to call this a short relapse), he encouraged me to read 2 Nephi chapter 4. I love that chapter! But as I read, I learned. I have read that chapter probably dozens of times, and never saw what I saw that night, that I had slackened my strength because of my afflictions. I gave into the "it's too hard," and the "I cannot do this." I let the "this is too much for me" and the "what am I going to do?" weigh me down into momentary hopelessness. It was enough to pull me under, because I cut myself some slack. "It's been a hard few days. Go ahead and watch that show even though it's really late." "I've had such a hard thing happen! I deserve to go to bed without reading my scriptures." Little tiny things that I rationalized wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of big things.

Life is hard, but . . . Life is hard! And it always will be. And I don't get to give up just because my burdens get a little heavier.

Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul. Do not slacken my strength because of my afflictions.
2 Ne 4:28, 29