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.