Giving up Perfect

One of my many false beliefs is that in order for me to be good enough, I have to be the best. If I'm not the best mom, I'm not good enough. If I'm not the best employee, I'm not good enough. If I'm not the best student, I'm not good enough- the best friend, best Mormon, best woman, best everything. In my early teens, I was the best pianist in most of my groups. It helped me feel good enough. And being the best = good enough = perfect, in my head. But, the older I got, the more pianists I met, and I was almost never the best. If I wasn't the best pianist, I figured my talent was good for nothing. If someone else has it, better than I do, what does it matter if I know how to play?

This concept, certainly, would have been a foreign one:

I am aware of it, now. I am becoming aware of how it is based in pride and fear. I am becoming aware of how it damages myself and others. Somehow, in my mind, being the best means being perfect. And I must be perfect! And being perfect means being the best. And being anything other than perfect means being a total failure. Why am I this way?!

Recently, something in my head clicked. I have been defining perfection all wrong all this time. Perfect has meant a clean house; always happy kids; no addiction slips; being esteemed highly by all around me, all the time; flawlessness as an employee; the best at my calling; the favorite everywhere; thin; all the time knowledgeable; wise- ETC. I felt like I had to be ALL the good things, ALL the time, but even beyond that, that everyone had to believe that I was doing all the good things all the time. 

I shake my head at myself, but I try to remember self-love because these thinking errors are so hard to identify and even harder to change. 

But, now, perfect means something different. We are commanded to be perfect, but whose version of perfect? Certainly not mine! My version of perfect is all screwed up. And the commandment says, "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." It doesn't say, "Be ye perfect even as you define perfect." And when you think about it, how IS our Father perfect? He is perfect but He is not here, on Earth, in mortality. He is not living in this test of life, with a veiled memory of Eternity, with Satan and conspiring men and women calling Him in every which way. I can't be perfect as He is perfect while I'm here, can I? Because He's not. 

Anyway, I have been stressing at work because I'm something like number 7 on our team of 14, and that has been highly unacceptable in the past. But yesterday at work, I suddenly decided to let it go. It means nothing. My ranking means nothing in the Eternal scheme of things. It doesn't tell me my worth- not accurately, anyway. 

And, that's a real part of it. I have been attaching my worth to all these ridiculous things. If my house is clean, then I am worthy of love/acceptance/companionship. If I am number 1 at work, then I am worthy. If my primary kids learn all the songs perfectly the first try, then I am worthy. If I never yell at my kids, then I am worthy. If I never have an inappropriate thought, then I am worthy. If my yard looks nice, then I am worthy. If my friends agree with all my opinions, then I am worthy. If I lose weight, if I drive well, if I write a smash hit song, if I am admired, if I finish the 12 steps, if, if, if, if, if! These "if-thens" are absolute lies, and I have been buying into them for years! And the liberation that comes with understanding that they are lies is difficult to explain. 

My version of "perfect" is false. And I couldn't be happier about that. The pressure that night at work fled off my shoulders in a hurry, and I just focused on what I could do in that moment to do my job well. My house is a disaster but that doesn't mean I have no worth. Wait, what? 

It's clicking. I'm so grateful it's clicking, because holding myself to impossible standards has been pretty awful. And now that I know the truth, or some of it, I don't have to do that anymore. I don't have to be my version of perfect anymore in order to claim worth.

I'm breaking through perfection. It was holding me back in a severe way. It was crushing me and I was using it as a tool of punishment. Well, I don't get to do that anymore. I don't get to punish myself with my false standards. 

I think I still have a lot about this topic I need to work out. I think it's time for a therapy appointment. 

I hope I make at least a little bit of sense!

I'm the Gardener, Here

You ever wonder what in the blazes is God doing with you?

I do. I wonder it every day, these days. Because every day, my life is wildly uncomfortable. I'm in a place which I don't remotely enjoy (my work shift that keeps me from my kids). I want out. Bad.

How bad? I don't know if I want out bad enough to actually do something about it. But, I am becoming increasingly suspicious that perhaps God is intending to use this situation to push me into something greater for my family-- for my happiness.

I don't know. I'm confused about all this. But, when I really think of it, standing idly by and waiting for God to teach me what I'm supposed to learn from all this doesn't sound as much of a good idea as actually working for it. I want out! I think Heavenly Father, who knows me well, knew I would be going stark, raving mad by this shift. And maybe His purpose in this is something far different than I primarily imagined. Maybe He's pushing me to get myself (with His help) out, rather than waiting for it to end.

I gotta get out. I want out. Bad. I feel imprisoned - stuck - and utterly useless. My children need me, and that became as evident as it ever will be tonight. I can't just idly sit and let this trial happen. I will if I must, but I think and I hope that I mustn't.

I'm reminded of one of my Uncle Steve's favorite analogies. He would repeat it often to me. The author is Hugh B Brown, and he talks about a current bush.

He starts off by saying-- well, I'll let him tell you. I found this delightful rendition on YouTube. Take a listen:

"I'm the gardener, here." Okay, Lord. Let me be satisfied with Your will. Cut me down the way that will make me the most glorious and useful to You.

When I Try to be my Own Jesus

So much for writing daily! oh well.

Through my several years of addiction recovery, I have learned many important lessons. Many of these lessons have been engraved in my heart, never to be forgotten. Many of them reside in my heart most of the time. There is one, however, that repeats itself over and over again. It is crippling! Not that lesson, of course, but that I haven't learned it yet.

I am not Jesus!

How often I try to be my own Jesus. When I look back on my most recent slips, there are a few common themes: Stress, fear, and a desire to, and a belief that I can, save myself. 

I come to believe that I am powerful enough to overcome my hardships alone. I come to believe that I can rely on my own self to make it through moments of temptation. I come to believe that I am in charge. I got this. I did this. I'm doing this. It's my job.

I put a lot of responsibility on my shoulders when I get that way. No wonder I get stressed!

I have written about this before, once in 2012 and once last year. I hope I really learn it soon.

Some ways that I try to take Jesus's power away from Him are:

Beating myself up. When I abuse myself emotionally, especially following a slip, it's because I feel like I "deserve" to be punished. Well, that's not my job to decide! My job is to get up, repent, and move forward. When I take the reigns of punishment, I take Jesus's job. The chastisement of my peace is upon Him. Not me. He tells us to repent. He doesn't tell us to destroy ourselves with unkindness. When I beat myself up, and try to tell myself how I'm supposed to feel, I am not able to sincerely repent anyway. I can't feel godly sorrow when I'm making up my own version of sorrow.

Ignoring the Spirit. The day I slipped last, almost two weeks ago, was the day that I was going to go to the temple. I knew I needed to go. I knew, even, that I was supposed to go. I had planned to go that day for a week or so, but that day came and I was tired and I wanted to sleep in. I said to myself, "I'll go Thursday instead." and a teeny, tiny but perceptible voice warned me "you might slip before then" and I said, "Please. I can make it two days. I know I can. Of course I can!" and then the voice nudged me. And I nudged it back. "I got this." I can't say that I would have avoided the slip had I attended the temple. But, as my bishop kindly but firmly reminded me today, I would have been strengthened. I would have been strengthened by obedience to the Spirit, and by the sweet spirit and peace I would have experienced in the temple. And maybe it would have been strength sufficient to offer awareness of what was really coming at me Tuesday night, and I could have fought it.

Slacking in the Little Things. When I put off reading the scriptures, attending the temple, having FHE; when I don't prepare for my calling, pray with sincerity, have family scriptures; when I avoid Visiting Teaching because I don't really love it-- when I slack off in these easy but monumentally important things, I am essentially telling God, "I don't need You." "I can do this on my own."

I got this.

It's strange to me how readily and easily I reject being saved. When I surrender, and when I give myself to my Father, that's when I feel amazing. That's when I am confident, and powerful, and capable, and secure, and happy. There is nowhere warmer or safer than in the arms of Jesus. Why am I so easily distracted from that sweet security by things of the world? I need to amp up my faith. My bishop reminded me today that if I have faith, I will be given strength, and I can have the Priesthood power to make it through any time temptation or trial.

Why should I insist on saving myself when I have Jesus?

I pray that Heavenly Father will teach me to truly learn this lesson. I know that if I don't, I will continue to struggle, continue to slip. The moment I depend on myself is the moment I, mockingly, step away from my Savior, and if I continue on that self reliant path, I will slip again. I'm a little scared about that because I know myself. I know I will cease to trust God and once again put my trust in myself. I hope and pray that I catch it in time to avoid the pit that awaits me.

I feel like beyond this great wall of pride is a freedom I've never known.

When I look back on my months-long period of doubt, I see so much humanism! So much self-reliance! (there is a very good kind of self-reliance, and a very damaging kind of self-reliance.) This is a serious problem and I really, really think I need help overcoming it.

Oh, happy Easter, Friends. This is the commemoration of the most important, sacred, holy day in all of history! Jesus is risen! He lives, He is my Savior- not me. He earned that title- not me. And because He rose from the grave after the darkest nights of the world, we can also rise from our trials and sins into triumph and glory and eternal life! What a beautiful day. How I love my Jesus!

Control, Control, Control

I want control. I want to be in control. When I feel like I am not in control, I freak out and write posts like yesterday's. I want to control everything in my life. When my need for control is this high, trusting God seems impossible. Trusting God means relinquishing my illusion of control over to Him.

Even as I write that, I feel my blood pressure rising. NO! I must have the control!

It's funny because I never have control. I never had it. I never can! This is not my world. This is God's world. I wish my life to be God's life. I wish to turn myself entirely over to Him.

Even as I write that, a calm comes over me, and I exhale peacefully.

I have been frantically trying to control everything at work so that I can control what my next shift will be so that I can more easily control my life and be home with my kids when I want to be. Because then my illusion of control will be more believable. I'll think I have some. I'll think that it's because of my awesomeness that I have a great shift. It's because of my needs as a single mom that I am home with them. I got this. I did this.

When I was in the prisons on Sunday, I was panicking because our escorts weren't there when I wanted them to be. We were going to be late! Then there were two surprise speakers at our first prison when we were supposed to be the only part of the program. I panicked because they weren't on MY agenda. This was going to ruin everything. At the 2nd prison, it seemed to take forever to get prepared (we had to wait for the rotation and it seemed to be taking a lot of time), and I panicked about time. Again. At the 3rd prison, it took also forever to get prepared and I remembered that at Christmastime, this prison was the one that is super finicky about time so we had to get started straight away. And the inmate choir director kept talking to me about getting them music for the Christmas program and I didn't really know how to make a decision and anyway, while we were doing our program, during the 2nd song which was a solo, I was looking out at all the offenders and suddenly this calm came over me. Suddenly I realized, this is not my program. This is not my choir. I'm here because God wants us here and because He loves these offenders so much. This isn't about me. I realized I needed to stop trying to control it. And I gave the rest of the day to Him. And I sat back and enjoyed the program, enjoyed the choir, without worrying about what is going to happen next. And I felt a Heavenly nudge to apply this thought to my life. I need to stop trying to control it! I can't anyway. I can make the best choices I know how. I can be the best mother I know how. I can forgive myself, and move forward every day. But even my best efforts cannot, will not, create the life I think I want.

Whatever happens today at work is what happens today at work. This is not my world. I will not fear because I don't need to. Oh, God, let me keep this reassurance throughout this day, especially at work!

Besides that, it's not what I do at work that matters most. It's what I do at home. And I've been really doing better at home, as a parent, as a responsible adult.

Addiction is an illusion of control. I don't mean the addiction itself. But when I rush to pornography, masturbation, food, kissing, Pepsi, Facebook, etc., it's because I'm afraid of real life. It's because something in real life has threatened my sense of control. And if I can't control real life, then I'm going to do something I can control. My addictive behaviors do give me a momentary sense of control. When life is crazy, I feel like I can calm it down with anything on the above list. But, I logically understand that the opposite is true. Those behaviors make my life even more unmanageable and quickly get totally out of my control.

Control itself is simply an illusion. I hope to soon understand that with my heart.

Do You Have the Time to Listen to me Whine

No one likes a whiner but I'm so . . . AUGH . . . that if I write at all, it will be in complaint. And I'm writing. So I complain.

I have this new crappy shift. I see my kids in the morning before school every day and that's it. They're in bed before I get home. I can't even explain how much I hate it. It's just unfair. Duh, why couldn't my sweet babies have been born to someone else who could give them a way better life? Because a life where you hardly see your mother is a life that sucks a little bit, and a life where you hardly see your kids is a life that sucks a lot.

I try every day- I really do!- to tighten my britches and have a good attitude. I spend my mornings missing my kids and trying to figure out what God wants me to do. I'm getting better at managing my time, too. Then I go to work and totally believe I'm going to rock, I'm going to have short calls, get sales, blah blah blah. But instead, inevitably, I have a horrible day. We have all these metrics that we're supposed to meet, and up to this month, I have met most of those metrics without effort. This month I might be meeting one of them. My performance is worse than it has ever been since I got hired, and, let me tell ya, it's not for lack of trying. I have put in more effort than ever because it is sooooo so so so important for me to get a day shift so I can see my kids again, and that depends on performance. At this rate, I will never ever ever get off the night shift. Ever. And I can't make sense of it. How can all the the things that came to me easily, consistently, over the past several months, suddenly not come to be at all? How can my effort yield horrible results? EVERY SINGLE DAY?

Every night on my drive home I cry. I miss my kids so much and because of my scores I will continue to have to miss them. I try so hard and for what? I'm so tired of putting out so much effort and getting the opposite of what I should get in return.

I thought this was a trial God wants me to endure, and I think I maybe still think that, but even though it's not death or severe illness or a real trial, it's too hard for me and I can't handle it. I wanted so badly to endure it well, to show Heavenly Father that I can make it, and make it with a grateful smile, but we're only just over 2 weeks into this and I already feel like crumbling. I already can't breathe. It's already too much.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. That's what I keep telling myself. Maybe one of these days it will be true.

On the other hand, I have been doing a dang good job of turning to God during this, instead of running to my easy places of coping. I do feel that He has been blessing me with strength.

The Only Answer is Trust

I will see my bishop on Sunday, and then I will confess my latest slip. I imagined the scenario today. I imagined what I would tell him. I wondered if he would be weary by now of my confessions. "Me again. Yep- did it again. So." How many times have I gone to him in confession? I don't even know. So many.

He is kind and full of grace. I know he will be kind again. Sometimes I think it will be the last time I get forgiveness and he'll say, "you're excommunicated. You've slipped one too many times. Sorry. See you in a few years if you can make it." Sometimes I get a little scared but I go anyway, and that never happens. Only mercy happens. Only encouragement happens.

I figured maybe he'll ask me what happened that led me to this. I figured I'll tell him my plans for the future to stay away. But I see him so frequently- WHAT IS THE ANSWER?! What is the answer, the cure? 

I think there is only one. I think it's trust. When I trust my God, fully, I don't freak out, I don't lose hope, I don't emotionally abuse myself, and I don't leave myself open for Satan's jabs. When I trust God, fully, I have peace. I have serenity. And when I'm in a place of peace and serenity, I am strong, I'm a freaking rock. Nothing, in that place, can pull me down. 

The only answer is trust. The hardest answer is trust.

Oh, God, teach me to trust!

The Miracle of the Atonement

I need to post daily but I don't know what to write about tonight so I'm going to post one of my favorite conference talks of all time. This talk was given just a few weeks after I attended my first ARP meeting. I remember weeping at the time it was given. I remember watching this talk over and over again on my DVR. I would play it in the morning as I was getting ready for work. I read it over and over, and I still go back to it frequently. The most astonishing thing to me was that Elder Grow's brother was called to be a bishop after his excommunication. I remember sitting in awe as I heard this story. I remember thinking that if someone who had lived a "hedonistic lifestyle" could come back from it, come back from excommunication and be a bishop, then maybe there was quite a bit of hope for me also. Maybe I could fully repent and forsake my sins. Maybe abstinence was possible.

With no further adieu,

Easter in the Prisons

I have written before about the choir I direct, the Tender Mercies Choir, which was started by the extraordinary Jenny McKinney, who asked me to take over when she moved out of state. Until this year, we have had one purpose: To sing at four of our local prisons during their LDS church services at Christmastime. Oh, what an inexplicably beautiful experience this is!

This year, we were invited back for Easter. Yay! Now we have two purposes! Well, really just one purpose divided into two holidays. :) We were so excited to be invited back! And today, I spent my whole day at the prisons. We sing at four prisons: one women's prison, one men's minimum security prison, and two men's medium security prisons (I think). It's an all day event, and I might say that as much time as is spent singing is spent walking and driving from prison to prison. It's an exhausting day, every time. It's a memorable day, every time. It's an uplifting and inspiring and Spirit-filled day, every time. Today it was a day that made all the frustrations of this season's preparations 100% worthwhile. I had thought about cancelling more than once, but I was encouraged to push through by my co-director, and I'm so glad, so glad, we didn't give up.

I can't really explain the magic that happens in the prisons when we go to sing. I went with the choir twice before I was the director, and it's magic as a choir member, too, but even more so as the director. I think it's less to do with being the director and more to do with my heart being more open. But as I sit in my choir chair and look out onto the congregations, and see the faces of people whose worth remains unaltered by their choices, I feel God's love for them. It's difficult to explain because it hasn't ever happened to me in any other situation. But, when I'm sitting there, and I'm overcome with love, I know it's from God. And I know He's showing me, for some reason, that He loves them so much.

It's the most amazing thing!

By feeling the Father's love for them, I am reminded of His equal love for me, and I am also able to bring messages of His love to His children- because I literally feel a portion of it. I hope this doesn't sound outlandish or arrogant. It's so hard to explain because it's so unusual, at least for me.

As we sing, many of the offenders' faces grow wet. Shamelessly, they weep, being touched by the message and by the music. Sometimes, in our practices, we weep, too. Music is so powerful! God's love is so powerful!

I think my favorite part this time was when we asked the congregations to join us in singing Christ the Lord is Risen Today. They sing with gusto, my friends! Some of our wards could take note! And there was something about prisoner and freewoman joining together and singing about Jesus's glorious victory over death and hell that thrilled me.

Are we not all the same? Are we not all travelers, hoping to reach a similar destination of peace and hope? Are not all lost? Are we not all prisoners in some respect? Do we not all, each, have access to the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ? Can we not all be perfected in Him? Are we not each a child of a most merciful and ever loving Heavenly Father, Who is eager to extend grace? Romans 8:38-39: "For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Oh, how He loves us! Oh, how He loves you, how He loves me.

I thank my God for this enormous blessing of an opportunity. How it humbles me. I can't wait for Christmas!

Consistency

I touched on something in my blog the other day that I want to expound on. Yes, I have struggled with sexual addiction most of my life. Yes, I have been working sincerely and honestly on recovery for most of my life. I used to define this as an even greater weakness. If I have been working so hard for so long, there must be something seriously  wrong with me since I still struggle with it.

But, I'm thinking about this, and I feel that what I'm thinking about is truth because as I think of it, the Spirit touches my mind and heart.

Working so hard and so long is seriously right.  It's maddening and frustrating that addiction has such a strong hold on me. It's embarrassing and humiliating. It's depressing and monumentally discouraging. But, I keep trying. I keep slipping, but I keep getting up. I keep stepping out of God's light, but I keep returning. That's what matters most.

I look back and I see that my constant repentance has kept me safe-- well, safer than if I hadn't. Of course, I'd be even safer if I'd just stay on the path always. But, who of us does that? Anyway, I look back through the years of my addiction, of my active addiction, and I see progress. I see spiritual enlightenment. I see blessings galore. I see so much forgiveness. I was progressing and learning even in my darkest times. Even when I couldn't abstain for 14 days without a miracle, I was progressing and learning and making it. Spiritual progress was so slow, but it was there. I wasn't going backward. I remained faithful. I read my scriptures daily, as I do now I prayed all the time, as I do now. I paid my tithing faithfully, attended all my meetings, shared my testimony with others, trusted God in times of circumstantial trial. Even when my addiction had the most control, I still did so many right things. I never saw it. I thought of only the bad things I was doing, and defined my worth by those. I saw only my addiction, only my inability to break free.

But I never gave up. Ever. I thought about it. I wanted to sometimes. Maybe twice I skipped church in all those years. Maybe a few days of skipping scripture reading. I don't think I have ever had a day where I didn't pray- I can't even imagine such a day. I never gave up. I couldn't see the value to that, because it seemed like "no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I keep failing. What's the point? Why do I even try?"

But today I can look back and tell you with relative confidence that it is because I keep trying that I have am in recovery. It is because of my consistence that I have been continually blessed with grace and mercy and so much more. It is because of my determination, though broken by occasions of failure, that I will become free, that I will shed this weakness, this curse, this hell of addiction. I am not alone in any of my success, of course. I do not mean to take credit for what belongs to Jesus. He enables me to continue when I wish to die. He enables me to push forward when I feel like I can't. He gives me the grace I literally need in order to be forgiven time and again. But, Jesus's gifts will not save me if I don't accept them. I accept them by trying again and again. I accept Him by giving effort and consistency. I will never give up because I don't have to. I know that if I don't give up, I can still partake of the promise of immortality and eternal life. And so I do it. I keep going. And, despite what I used to believe, every time I get up, I become strengthened. Even if in another day I fall again, each exercise of returning and repenting makes me better and stronger.

And so I go. And so I will always go. And I'm grateful for all those countless times in the past where I thought "What's the point? I'll just slip again like I always do," but got up anyway. I thank the me in the past who keeps trying and keeps going when it seems useless to do so.

I believe that I have kept myself from unspeakable situations by my continued efforts. I believe that Heavenly Father has protected me because of my getting back up every time. Would I be more blessed and more protected if I hadn't so often returned to this sin? Well, yes, of course. He is bound when we do what He says, but when we don't, we have no promise. I have forfeited so many blessings, I know. But on the other hand, for as long as I've been an addict, I have been pretty lucky. I have been able to live a somewhat normal life. I have been able to keep my jobs and teach my children. I haven't gone outside of the screen, if you will. Okay, there are a few exceptions to that.... While it seems like my addiction has been so completely out of control, I really do believe that by not giving up, God has protected me from doing more in this addiction. And I am so grateful.

I'm grateful to God and grateful to myself, and I hope that's okay. I am grateful that I kept trying, and that I keep trying. And I know that eventually, by and by, I will get where I want to be. I'm closer now than I ever have been. I scold myself always for how slow I am at learning, but I think I'm going to focus on brighter things instead. Instead of, "I could have avoided that sin, but I didn't. I'm a failure," I'm going to try to say, "I could have given up, but I didn't. That is awesome."

Day 2 Day 1

I'm going to do a post a day for 30 days. I need to refocus on recovery.

However, I don't have much to say tonight! ha!

God has granted me serenity after my last slip. He is wonderful and kind and so merciful. He is reminding me that my destiny is with Him. He is reminding me that I was made to overcome. He is reminding me that He will fight for me.

I need to reach out  more. When I am feeling those first feelings of the idea of indulging, I need to reach out. I wish I had a sponsor. One of my bishops used to ask me to text him when I was feeling weak or tempted, even if it was in the middle of the night. He gave me his personal cell phone number! It still trips me out that my bishop gave me his personal cell phone and asked me and allowed me to text  him. So weird! And so amazing. But he was 2 bishops ago, 3 years ago, and since then I haven't really had someone I feel comfortable reaching out to in those moments.

I have a wonderful friend who, upon reading my last blog post, reached out to me and told me she is there for me if and when I need to reach out. And, well, that meant the world. So I'm going to practice this. I'm going to humble myself and try to get past the pride of "I can do this," or "I don't need help," or "It's not that big of a deal anyway," or "I don't want to bother anyone with my crap." She made it clear, anyway, that I wouldn't be bothering her and that I could feel safe in reaching out to her and I'm just going to believe her and do it. I'm going to make myself practice it. I'm going to trust. I need to try something new.

I need to get back to the temple. I'm not letting another slip stop me again. No way.

How Many Days of "Day One?"

So, yesterday I slipped.

I didn't see it coming. Well, no, I totally saw it coming, but I didn't think it was actually coming. I thought I could handle it if it did come. Kinda like those people who choose to stay in their homes when their area is being evacuated for a huge impending disaster. They think they can handle it, or that it won't be that bad, or that, somehow, they are excluded from the promise of destruction.

How did I become so arrogant?

It's the same story every time. It's the same blog post every time. It is maddening!

I was hating myself. I was judging myself. I was holding myself to impossible expectations and then rubbing it in my face when I failed. Perfectionism is for the birds. No, I like birds. Perfectionism is not serving me very well these days. It's tearing me apart. 

Few things humble me like a slip. Few things turn me to God faster. There's something wrong with that. And yet, there's something right with that as well. Turning to God after a slip is certainly better than not turning to Him after a slip. Of course, there are even better options, but I didn't choose those. 

I am tempted to continue on my path of self-loathing. I'm tempted to use this as a "see? Told ya. You're a miserable, worthless failure." I'm tempted to blame God. He could have made a way for me to get a better shift at work (I just started working nights and so I almost never see my kids and so I almost always go crazy from missing them). If I had an early shift like before, then I could be the mom I want to be, and then I could attend my PASG meetings, and, dang it, I NEED those meetings! It's not my fault I can't attend those meetings anymore, right? So, therefore, by some ridiculous stretch, it's not my fault that I slipped. Wrong.

I am tempted to give in to anger. Mostly anger at myself. Anger about the unfairness of addiction. Anger about feeling so alone in it all. Anger about my continued failure to get it. Anger that I've been an addict since I was 14 (19 years ago!!!!) and that I have been confessing to bishops since I was 16 and I still don't have a grip on this. Essentially, I have been in recovery, to the best of my ability, for 17 years. And that makes me angry. I should be getting this by now. 

(As a side note, I do like to think that if I hadn't been honestly trying to be free of this almost since it's been a problem, that I would be much worse off than I am. I would probably have acted out on the things I've seen and thought about. I maybe would have done worse and worse things, like committed crimes. Maybe my efforts in recovery have saved me from prison or from death or from rape or from horrible relationships or from losing my kids or from other addictions like drugs and alcohol or from excommunication. Addiction is, by nature, a progressive disease, and while I certainly saw progression to worse and worse pornography, and maybe even more careless behavior, it was a slow progression. I think I may owe that to my continual, ceaseless efforts to be free of this. So, perhaps, I can stop telling myself it's pointless to try, that my efforts are ineffectual, and that I'll never recover.)

I am tempted to give up. I was going to go to the temple yesterday morning. I chickened out. I wonder what would have happened if I'd gone. Would it have given me strength? Or would I have still done the things I did last night? If I would have, I would have felt even guiltier. I'm sick, sick about it-- I was going to go to the temple tomorrow and now I can't. I hope my family will forgive me. We were supposed to all go together next week. I couldn't go with them last month, either. Sick of it. 

I am tempted to pummel myself with angry, poisonous words. 

I am tempted to believe that I've exceeded my sin-limit. I'm tempted to believe that I have gone beyond a point of no return, that I am irredeemable.

But you know what I'm going to do, instead?

Jesus already took this incident upon Him. I'm going to take the consequences. I'm going to allow the sorrow in, the genuine sorrow of my sin, but I'm not going to put anything else on top of it. I'm not going to punish myself because I have no right. I don't have to mope around all the day long. I can give this to Jesus. He took it already, anyway. In my prayer very early this morning, I asked, "Can I just give this one to Jesus? I don't want to carry this burden." And I think the answer is yes. I will be accountable, but I don't need to be punished. Repentance saves us from sin's punishment. Jesus was already wounded for my transgressions, bruised for my iniquities, and He has already taken the punishment so I can be at peace. 

In my prayers, I said, "Father, you say I need to forgive 70 times 7, but how many times will You forgive? I know I have done more than 490 sins."

Immediately, even after having just betrayed my God, I heard Him lovingly respond by an instant remembrance of a verse, "as oft as my people repent."

I weep as I recall that beautiful moment.

The miracle is, I am not beyond His mighty hand to save. 

Today, I could mope. I could go around like a damned soul and treat myself like a damned soul. I could pretend I deserve to have the worst day. But, Jesus died for me. Why should I linger in the valley of sorrow when I have a Savior? There's a song that has a line that says something like "start living like someone died for you." And today, that's what I intend to do. I'm going to live like I am redeemed, like someone took upon Him my pains and sorrows and sins. I'm going to live today like a soul forgiven. Forgiveness is my destiny, not damnation! Redemption is my future, and my now.

Yesterday was only just yesterday, but it's already behind me. I can't change what happened. I wish I could change what happened! But I cannot. I can only change myself today. I can choose how I live today. I can choose life. I can choose repentance. I can actually choose to be pardoned. 

I'm learning that I am a sick, sick person. Sick as in ill. I have so much turmoil inside of me. I have been keeping it there, holding it there, because I somehow feel safe with it there. I take on the responsibility of just about everything that goes wrong in my life, and I have collected a great deal of false responsibility- of blame- that doesn't belong to me, over the years. I hold it dear. It gives me a sense of control, when in fact, the opposite is true. I will continue to be an addict of some kind for as long as I hang on to this garbage. I must let it go, and that will take time. I'm holding a ball of false responsibility in my chest, and it is heavy. I can't wait till I can breathe. 

The thing is - the reason I take responsibility for what others have done to me, or for what circumstance has done to me- is because if I release that, then I can't control my emotions. If I can take the blame, I can feel however the heck I want to feel. I am too controlling and I try to be my own Jesus all too often. I do fear truth. I do fear authenticity. Oh, how I value it! But, oh, how I fear it. There is much in me that I am hiding. There is much in me from which I cower. 

Today is a new day and I can be a new person in it. Today I will trust God. Today I will recommit to purity. Today is Day One, but every day is Day One. 

I know God lives. I know He loves me. I know His Son, Jesus Christ, is my Savior-- my Savior. He is my friend. He is my comfort and my guide. I know He lives. I know He heals. 

Nothing of Value

I haven't blogged in so long. I feel like I have nothing of value to contribute. Blogging is dying. No one reads blogs anymore, not like they used to. Sex addiction isn't a novelty anymore, not even among women. So many recovery blogs all over, all written by women who are further in recovery than I am, or smarter than I am, or more eloquent, or just plain better, you know?

and if my blog can't help anyone, then what's the point?

I know I sound all self-abusive, but I'm not so sure that's it. I want to help people. I want to reach women who don't already know they're not alone. I want to feel like I'm making a difference, and I'm not so sure that continuing to blog will make a difference.

But, today, I was reading some of my own posts, and learning from them. If I can help myself, then that should be good enough.

I have been struggling with things I haven't yet identified. I know I'm struggling because some of my addictions have really taken control. I have been doing alright as far as my sexual addictions go, so, hooray, right? In fact, I think I'll go to the temple tomorrow, for the first time in a few months.

Six weeks of abstinence doesn't feel like progress anymore. But, for the first time since sometime last year, I actually want to go to the temple! That is progress. The temple had ceased to be motivating. Probably because I had ceased to really believe.

On that, I do feel like I'm back. I feel like I'm still recovering from my season of doubt. I feel like it did a huge number on my soul. I'm happy to have my testimony back, and stronger than it used to be. I do love this church and this gospel! Wasn't General Conference so inspiring? I love being a member of the Church in this time. I love being a woman in the Church in this time. It's a wonderful time to be alive, and a terrifying time to be alive.

This post is ridiculous! I think I just want to get back into the habit of posting, because, honestly, it does help me, and I'm worthy of help.