How Pornography has Affected the way I View Women

Whenever I'd hear people (men) say that pornography made them think of women, in general, as objects, I'd basically ignore the comment or judge it as ridiculous. As if I have room to judge, EVER! It made no sense to me that men would allow anything to turn women in general into objects, please! I thought they were pretty low for thinking that. I figured that I had done an excellent job of separating women and objects, though readily admitted that while I was viewing pornography, the women and men were objects for me. Also, on occasion, I would make an object of a man I was making out with. However, outside of porn or lust? No. Humans. Men and women were humans, souls, and I never objectified them when I wasn't in the addiction zone. I shook my head at such comments, when I'd hear how pornography actually changed how these men saw women in general. Oh, they were repentant, and they didn't like it about themselves, and that was pretty good, but I just couldn't see how they didn't see face to face women immediately and only as human beings.

You guys, this is a pretty heavy confession I'm about to make. This has been on my mind a few days and I feel I need to write about it here. So, here, I write about it.

I was driving the other day, through my neighborhood. I saw a woman. She was jogging, and she was wearing jogging clothing- tight and form revealing. My first impulse, as it always is, was to notice her body, and by "notice-" let's get real, here- I mean objectify. My first impulse, as it always is, was to find something on her that would ignite something in me, something inappropriate, something lustful. And, as I almost always do, I immediately looked away, reminded myself she is a beautiful daughter of God with a soul. and a life, and I reminded myself to love her. This part of the event is normal for me. This part happens several times a week if not several times a day. I notice a woman, I seek to lust, I change my thoughts, I seek to love, I go on. The part I'm about to tell you, however, is new. The new part is the part where I realized that my first impulse upon seeing that woman jogging the other day was to lust. Immediately following that realization was the understanding that I almost always react in that exact same way.

There is something I want to clear up at this point. When I say my impulse was lust, I do not mean to say that I had any sexual desires toward these women. This feels very difficult to explain, but I'm going to try. I'm trying to talk myself into just saying it like it is because even though I will be judged, I also may be able to help someone. So. Here we go- open and real and explanatory. I have never thought of myself as having Same Sex Attraction. I haven't wanted to romantically be with a woman emotionally or spiritually or permanently, ever. I'm grateful that SSA hasn't been among my trials of this life, and I've often said that our brothers and sisters who do so struggle are the strongest and best among us, but I never considered myself one of them. Indeed, I am not. So, why, then, was I having to use reason and prayer and extra love to dismiss the lust I felt when looking at women jogging, or women with revealed cleavage, or women with short skirts?

I wasn't having any sort of sexual identity crisis here, but I recognized then that what I was feeling about these women, initially, was lust. Well, perhaps "lustful" is a better term. I was seeking to be aroused.

When I look at men, I do not seek to be aroused. I'll come back to that later.

Recently, I read this excellent article about lust. It's by Andrew over at Rowboats and Marbles, and I encourage you to click here to read the article. I didn't agree with everything, but it sure opened my eyes to what lust really is, and I related quite well with his assertions about how women participate in pornography vs how men do. At first, I was insulted that he was separating men and women like that, but, for me, he's actually right. Women, he says, are more likely to seek to be lusted after, while men seek to lust. This is why women are more likely to find pornography in text- like romance novels- while men are more likely to find it in pictures and videos. It's easier to put yourself in the position of someone being lusted after while you're reading, and easier to lust while you're viewing. Now, I get bored by reading because it's not fast enough, but I can tell you that when I view pornography, I'm following that model of vicariously being lusted after. And that's what I was doing all the years I was looking at pornography.

I do not think one is any better than the other. It is no better to seek to be lusted after than it is to lust. It's all objectifying, it's all sinful, it's all dangerous, it's all disrespectful.

When I look at women lustfully, it's another extension of the place I put myself into when viewing pornography. It's almost like I'm lusting in order to be vicariously lusted after. (If you can make sense of that, good for you.) It's almost like I'm putting myself in a position to be lusted after, by me. And that's insane. I'm turning women in general into objects, and so I'm an object too, because I'm a woman, and I am an object unto my own self.

Before pornography, I'm nearly certain that I didn't see a jogging woman and instantly become lustful. Pornography has most assuredly changed how I view women. Pornography has most assuredly affected my ability to love all humans, women, myself. Pornography has reinforced to me that women are only good for sex, and so I want to be lusted after, so that I can fulfill my role. Pornography has taught me that women are worth more when they are more willing to do deviant things with their partner(s). Pornography has destroyed my mind so much that the first thing I think of when I see a woman with few or tight clothes is sex or something sexual. I am the people I complain about! I am the people I shake my head at when I say, "women should be able to wear whatever they want and not be objectified!" I am the people I condemn when I say "if someone has inappropriate thoughts when they see a woman in a bikini, that's not the woman's fault- that's theirs." I believe all those things. I believe that a woman ought to be able to walk around in a miniskirt and a halter top and be safe from horny, impulsive, disrespectful men, and not be held responsible if a man assaults her physically or verbally. But, I am the one who thinks those lustful thoughts. What is this?! How has this truth about myself escaped me for so long?! I know the antidote, though. It's love. When I love someone, I cannot have any feelings of lust toward them. Therefore, my wonderful friends who are reading this, rest assured that I do not think of you lustfully, because I love you. Besides, when I am near women, speaking to them, I do a good job of seeing them as actual women. Rarely, during a face to face conversation with anyone, do my thoughts turn to lust.

Pornography has broken my mind so that I have to reason with myself in order to view women appropriately. Pornography has reinforced to me that I am only good for sex. And, no wonder, then. No wonder I felt perfectly comfortable making out with perfect strangers during perfect storms of loneliness and self-loathing. No wonder I participated in so many online lust-filled conversations with men I never met. I believed what porn reinforced: that my purpose was sex.

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Right now, I see myself at my computer desk, five years ago, my eyes giddily waiting for Mark's response. Mark was intelligent, attractive, rich, sexy, and he was lusting after me, and I was lapping it up like a kitten at catnip-flavored milk. Suddenly, his reply appears in the chat box. It was exactly what I'd hoped for, and I lustfully respond. Back and forth we go, till it crosses a boundary, and I get angry at him and tell him off-- till the next time. I want to go to that lost, sad woman. I want to tell her she is worth more than anything Mark could ever offer, and that Mark was worth more than everything I was offering him. I want to hold her and rock her and give her the love she was missing, the love she was actually seeking, and tell her that Mark's conversation with her would only leave her empty and wanting. I want to go to her now, and turn off the computer, delete Mark's contact info, block him and all the other men I stored on my computer screen, and tell her it's all a lie, that she's worth far, far more than merely sex, that her purpose is grander, and her identity infinitely more majestic. 

Pornography hasn't only affected my view of women, but also of men. Part of me believes the lie that men, in general, are sexually aggressive and abusive. Oh, I hope you haven't seen what I have seen in pornography, but the men are aggressive and abusive, for the most part. They are not the ones being lusted after.They are the ones for whom I must be lustworthy. Because of pornography, I assume that most men are looking around at most women lustfully, undressing us with their eyes basically all the time. Oh, how untrue this is, how unfair it is for me to hold men to this level of crudeness. I don't feel lustful toward men because they're the ones that are "supposed" to lust. I don't seek to be aroused when I look at men, because pornography taught me that women are supposed to be doing the arousing.

I'm not saying pornography is to blame, because I'm the one who chose pornography. I am saying that I have a broken view of men and women- a view that I can intellectually dispute any day, any hour, but I have a lot of heart-unlearning to do- because of my participation in pornography, and I really really really really hate that. Pornography is powerful, evil, and Satan's biggest game piece right now. Pornography is the greatest counterfeit of all time.

Oh, but because of Jesus, we can always, always hope. Step 2 of the Addiction Recovery Program is Hope: "Come to believe that the power of God can restore you to complete spiritual health." I believe this with my whole heart, and I believe He can and will restore me to a proper and righteous view of men and women, and that someday, I will see a jogging woman and see nothing else but a beautiful woman who is jogging. I feel like the more I learn about addiction and pornography, and about myself, my God, and Satan, the more I realize I don't know. I have a lot of learning and un-learning to do, but I have a God Who is willing to help me learn and un-learn it, and who wants to restore me to complete spiritual health.

God help me. God, heal this broken mind!

Addiction Recovery Program Conference

I had the great privilege of attending an addiction recovery program mini-conference in my area today. It was from 9-1, and the presenters were so great- the ones I attended anyway. Also, I had the pretty great opportunity to be a presenter!

When I was asked, I thought it was a pretty crazy idea because after 4.5 years in the Addiction Recovery Program, I haven't even finished the 12 steps. I'm on step 11. Also, I thought it was pretty crazy because I'm not recovered. I mean, my last slip was just a few weeks ago (although, guess what- have I said this recently?- the last time I looked at visual pornography was in February, YEAH!). What could I possibly offer to a bunch of addicts and their families when I wasn't any better than any of them?

Not much, to be frank. All I could offer was my story. And that's what I offered. And it was enough.

As I was practicing, I realized that my story is very long and very complicated, and all of it is important, but I couldn't fit all of it in 40 minutes. I asked Heavenly Father for help to choose which elements were most important to share for today, and I trusted the Spirit as I omitted and added and evolved what I would share. I wanted to focus my remarks on The Rescue- how my Savior has invested so much in my rescue, and how He is always out to rescue me, at any given moment. Oh how deep is my gratitude! I still forget how important I am to Him, but those moments of forgetting are becoming fewer and farther between. Progress, and progress is the name of the game.

Because I feel like I should, I want to share something one of the presenters shared. His name is Jason Hunt, and he's a professor at BYU-Idaho as I understand it, and he has studied and researched addiction from a scientific standpoint, so he has a lot of knowledge about it. Anyway, his entire presentation was amazing and taught me so much, but what I wish to share is this: He talked about the difference between recovering from an addiction to pornography and an addiction to cigarettes. He said that we aren't as encouraging in the Church, culturally, to pornography addicts. He gave an example of a cigarette addict who goes from smoking four cigarettes a day down to three, and how encouraging we would be for that addict, and we'd be like "way to go! Keep it up!" and then maybe the addict might smoke only two the next day, and everyone would celebrate. AND, if that addict smoked 3 again after only smoking 2 for a few consecutive days, we might be like, "hey, that's alright, keep trying, you'll get there." On the other hand, if a pornography addict who normally looks at porn for 4 hours a day says "I only looked at porn for 3 hours today," we ask what is wrong with them, how horrible, and we are not as encouraging at the progress.

I am so blessed to have a bishop who always always always looks at my progress, and when I'm discouraged with how long it's taken me to become free (because I'm trying to free myself rather than surrendering my heart to Jesus), he reminds me, with so much love, that I've come so far, and that I'm doing great things. What a blessing it is to have an advocate like that. I have many friends who are advocates like that, and I thank you all. Let us all be advocates like that!

What a blessing it is to know recovery, to know Jesus, and to have full access to the most joy and truth that can be found in this world. What a blessing it was to have attended this wonderful workshop, and to have been a part of it.

The Power of Hope

Tonight, I attended my weekly ARP meeting. I wanted to stay home and sleep, as I haven't slept well in several weeks. However, I recalled that sleeplessness had been a contributor to my last several slips, and maybe the meeting would give me that extra spiritual boost.

There was no maybe about it.

I had planned to complain when it was my turn to share. I had planned to speak my fears and sorrows. But, when it was my turn, I could do no such thing, because the Spirit took that time to remind me of where I'd been, where I am, and where I'm going. My God, through the Spirit, reminded me that, even though I feel like recovery is taking me way too long, it really wasn't all that long ago when I was in a place so dark and hopeless that I mostly believed I could never recover; that I was stuck forever in sin and despair; that I would never make it Home. I remembered a poem I'd written several years ago, and I remembered it verbatim. I have posted it on my blog before, but this is the one I'm talking about:

God, O God, my Father,
Can't You feel my inside screams
Bursting outward, upward, forward
Through a megaphone of sin?
Can't You see my face discolored
By my heart's unending tears
Do You not hear the desperation
of my crumbling, wearied soul?
I'm tired of this! Tired
of the constant, blunt reminders
Uninvited invitations
to my chosen mortal vice
God, O God, my Father
Is there more hopeful a conclusion
Than -- Why give to Thee this day
When tomorrow I must fail?

Now, it's been several years since I wrote that. Seven years, actually. But I felt just that way for years. I felt like failure was inevitable, that I wasn't good enough to ever be free, that my efforts toward healing would never be sufficient, and so how could my efforts of today matter at all when tomorrow I was just going to act out again? I felt totally and eternally trapped. Tonight, as I recalled the poem, I also recalled very vividly the feeling. And the truth is, I'm not there anymore. Even when I take some steps backward, I cannot stay in a place of misery and hopelessness, because I know too much. I know my Savior too well. I cannot know Him and love Him like I do and stay down! No! Because of Him, I can rise each time I fall, and I can rise immediately each time I fall. He will pick me up the moment I reach for His hand, every time. And so, I cannot stay down anymore, and my stumbles are ever becoming less frequent and less drastic. I am His miracle! My pride and unwillingness have slowed my progress, to be sure, but I have most certainly progressed, which is evident by my hope, I believe, which hope comes through my Jesus. My progress is a miracle.

I am in a much different place than I was then. The difference is enormous. Then, hope was a light through a pinhole way in the distance. Now, hope is as "bright as the noonday sun," and constant. Oh, sweet hope, Oh, sweet Jesus! I cannot lie in despair when I know such hope.

When it was my turn to share, I did not speak my fears and sorrows, as I'd previously planned. I spoke my hope and gratitude. I spoke my testimony of His love and His healing. As I remembered how far I've come - even if it has taken a long while - I couldn't talk about the negative pieces of my life. The miracle of the Atonement is far more important than the day's irritants.

I'm so thankful I attended tonight. I'm so grateful that the Lord has provided His children with so many tools of recovery, of help, of repentance, of hope. How He loves us! How He loves me.

Reconciliation and Separation

I don't know everything about addiction, but I know a lot about it. I have studied it for years, both from an LDS/spiritual perspective and a psychological perspective. Addiction sucks. Having addictions sucks.

God made our brains this way. He made our brains susceptible to addiction. Addiction isn't a sin; it's a weakness. The things we choose to do in our addictions, well, those are certainly sins, of course. But, addiction itself isn't a sin, and being an addict is nothing to be ashamed of anymore than having multiple sclerosis is something to be ashamed of. It's just not a sin.

The thoughts in my head this morning are these: As addicts, we must both separate our addictive behaviors from our worth, and reconcile our addictive behaviors with ourselves. And that's weird to me. Separation and reconciliation are basically opposites, but aren't paradoxes kind of a thing of the Gospel? The last shall be first and the first shall be last shall be first; become as a child but put off childish things; commandments seem restrictive but they are actually liberating, etc.

I have a hard time reconciling this addiction with myself. I have had sexual addictions for twenty years!!!, I ought to be able to understand that it's a part of me by now! But I hate it. I feel to be above this smut. I feel to be too righteous for it. I feel like it's beyond me even while I'm seeking it out! Pornography has been a destructive and defining part of my addiction for 8 years, and it still feels like something I would never do. I can't make sense of that and I recognize I must sound like a crazy person. But that's what I mean. This is what I have to reconcile: that pornography (using humans, degrading humans, supporting sex slavery, supporting sex trafficking, mocking sex) is not beyond me. This is what I have to reconcile: that I. AM. an ADDICT. This is what I must reconcile: that the behaviors I choose when I am in that zone of addiction are the behaviors I am choosing. This is what I have chosen! This is what I have chosen. This is what I have chosen. I have to reconcile that, I have to believe that about myself, I have to believe that I would do these things that destroy me, that I would choose something so deplorable, so repulsive, so damaging, so despicable! Yes, me! I am not beyond this.

At the same time, it's equally important to separate all those admissions and reconciliations from my worth. It's equally important to separate what I've done and who I am. It's important to separate my addiction from my potential.

That's hard to do. It's hard to both reconcile and separate. I'm better at separating than I used to be. When I slip, I don't mope around for days behaving as though I have no worth because I feel like I have no worth. I don't do that anymore. I get off my rear, dust it, fall to my knees, express my genuine sorrow (which comes more readily and sincerely when I'm not beating the crap out of myself), and move forward. I've gotten pretty good at separating my sins from my worth. However, I still struggle with reconciling that this is a part of me. This is an error of pride.

Step 1: Admit that you, of yourself, are powerless to overcome your addictions. Admit. Reconcile. Shed denial.

It's fundamental in addiction recovery, and I have yet to fully achieve it. There's still a huge lying part of me that so desperately wants it to not be true about myself, that I cannot fully reconcile that this is a part of who I am.

I slipped last night. I'm struggling the most with these types of thoughts: I'm better than that. I knew better. I have no room for this in my life. This is not the kind of life I'm living right now. I'm above this!

But, clearly, I am not above this. And if I really break that down, then what it means is I am still struggling to admit that I need help. If I really think I'm too good for this sin, then I really think that I'm too good for a Savior, and if I really think that I'm too good for this sin (the very one I've been committing for most my life), then I also somewhere believe that I'm in no danger of committing it, and that is a perilous lie.

I don't know the mechanics of yesterday's slip. It's always complicated; always complex. I do believe, however, that it had much to do with thinking I was beyond the sin that tempted me. I will say that I could feel the attack from Satan from early in the day. I knew it was coming. I predicted more temptations. I went to the temple. Even in the temple, sinful thoughts invaded and I swiftly kicked them out as soon as I was aware of them. I'd been doing it all day. I listened to two conference talks and read scriptures and participated in good things, in effort to protect me from the crave. But, Friends, it was intense. As I was lying in bed, trying desperately to sleep, the thoughts I'd been trying to escape all day swarmed my mind, and I prayed. And I began listening to scriptures from my phone. Jacob 5 to be exact. And while I was listening to Jacob 5, the thoughts I'd been fighting all day basically shut down my brain and I shut off the scriptures.

It was like pirates in the darkness. Like I was a ninja in a great field at midnight, and I knew I was coming up to a scary place like maybe a beach or something, so I was doing all the things I knew to do, and I was gripping my nunchucks in anticipation of battle. And then this pirate jumped out of the shadows and I fought him off! And then two pirates jumped out of the shadows, and with a little more effort, I took care of them, too. But then 15 of them came, so I turned on Jacob 5, hoping to shine them away, but they encroached steadily, and they were all around me, and I thought I'd be okay, but then another 100 of them surrounded me and with equal speed and fervor they ran upon me, and I was totally, helplessly overcome. And then they drowned me in the ocean.

That's what it felt like. I can't win 115 pirates! I gave up. I exited my LDS Library app, and on the very same device I was using to try to invite the Spirit into my heart, I tried to bypass my filters to find something pleasurably appealing. I succeeded. And the Spirit fled, as I should have done.

You know what I bet? I bet if I'd just held out a little longer, if I'd just offered up one more prayer, if I'd reached out to just one friend- if I'd given one more sincere effort, that's all it would have taken. I bet I was just at the very last moment before Grace would have swept me up in safety. And I wish I would have held out.

Here's another thing. If I confess the bad, let me also rejoice in the good. I haven't viewed pornography in 7 months! This is some sort of awesome record! Last night I found some really awful reading material, which, if pornography has been involved in my slips since February, it's been in text. I'm not saying that's an acceptable form of pornography, no way. It's still very much pornography! But if porn has degrees, text porn is not as bad as visual porn, and I promise I'm not justifying. It's . . . something like progress. It means what I tolerate is becoming less graphic, which means I'm getting better. Slowly!! Ever so slowly, but ever so surely, and I'm counting it as progress.

As I passed up the Sacrament today, I wept. I can't wait for a day (in the near future, dang it!) when I will be able to take the Sacrament every week, for more than six consecutive weeks. Oh, how I wish to be healed of this. Oh, how I wish to be free.

I'm so inexplicably grateful that I have a Savior, Who has taken upon Him my every last sin, and because of Whom my chances to repent never run out while I live and breathe.

Living Converted

Well hi there!

I know it's been an unusually long time since last I posted. I have been buys falling in love and dreaming of a wedding, etc. Pretty crazy stuff.

I wanted to post something about my awful week. Last week was the most emotionally challenging week I've had since David Ridley (that crazy awful therapist I had who lost his license over the type of "therapy" he provided me and about 2 dozen other women) and before that, since my ex husband moved his girlfriend into our apartment. It was a hard week. I keep thinking of all these adverbs I could use to explain the pain of this week, but they all fall drastically short. As I later lamented to a dear friend the details of what had happened, and how I felt like I lost my boyfriend/fiance and my family all in the same weekend, she remarked, "you're like Job." I certainly am not like Job, but the feeling of loss did feel significant. But, I did still have the love of my darling children.

Sunday is when it started. I was crying much of the afternoon and I decided to attend a local mid-singles fireside. Actually, a few weeks ago, I had made a promise to my ward's singles representative that I would be there, otherwise, I would have skipped it. I'll have to thank her for asking me to promise to attend.

The speaker was an area authority, and he spoke of the Atonement. I was in tears of sorrow before the introduction was completed. I was just so sad. I sat alone because I was so emotional, and I would have been mighty embarrassed if someone witnessed my tears. I had made some poor choices one family relationship, in response to some of their poor choices, and I wanted to repair, but I felt my efforts would be insufficient or rejected. As I wept over my loved one, both of sorrow for myself and for them, I listened to the speaker talk about how the Atonement is an enabling force, how it enables us to do good. And I wondered if I could use the Atonement to help me with my family. I took the following notes:

The Atonement enables me to do good. It gives me strength to do good things, the good things for others, for my children, for myself. My strength is not sufficient!! His is!! Ask Him. Seek His strength. I was given weakness. I'm not created to handle it on my own. It's impossible to handle it on my own. I wasn't meant to do it on my own. I can use His strength, His love, His forgiveness, His creativity, His perseverance, His energy, His chastity, His charity.

After the fireside, I called my boyfriend to tell him about it, and to tell him about what had happened with my family member, and he offered comfort and wisdom. I decided I would do what I could to fix it.

The next day, Monday, I sought reconciliation, but in doing so, gained unintentional access to some extremely hurtful information which made me feel misunderstood, unappreciated, somewhat hated, and like I completely didn't matter to not only one member of my family, but to most. In the moment of discovery, indeed it felt like my whole family hated me. I had no idea they saw me that way.

Also that Monday, though the details I will keep to myself at this point, my relationship with my boyfriend was abruptly and completely severed, at least temporarily (like, maybe a few months, or maybe a few years, I have no idea- this would make sense if I could explain the reasoning, but I'm not able to at this time).

Everyone. I felt to have lost everyone I loved the most, all at once, except, again, my kids.

Monday, I cried basically all the day. I buried myself in my bedroom and let the kids fend for themselves, which they did.
Tuesday, I cried basically all the day. I spent some time out of my bedroom, but not much.
Wednesday, I cried much of the day. The pain of my situation was also physical. I could feel it in my gut, twisting it up, implanting a thousand tiny acid-laced, double-edged swords into my innards. It hurt.

But something reminded me about the talk I'd heard Sunday night. I could borrow the strength of the Savior, and His forgiveness. I wasn't going to be okay with sobbing in my bedroom every night! No! I am a mother, and an employee, and I am needed. I thought I needed to call my therapist and see if she had any openings this week so she could help me hash this out. But, Soni, my therapist, is super popular because she's super good, and she's all the time booked for like two weeks out. I called anyway. I also knew she is off Fridays, and because of my work and life schedule, the only time I would be able to see her last week would have been Thursday at 3. So I asked the office manager, "Is there any chance Soni has an opening tomorrow at 3?" and she said it wasn't likely, knowing how Soni is all the time booked, and I said I know. She checked anyway and confirmed that there was, in fact, nothing open this week at all. Or next week. So I said, "if you happen to get a cancellation for tomorrow at 3, will you call me?" and she said, doubtingly, that she would.

For reals, I offered this prayer: "Heavenly Father, please bless that Soni's 3:00 will cancel tomorrow. I'm serious about that. Thy will be done, of course."

Wouldn't you know it, not an hour later, the office manager called me. "You won't believe what just happened." and I said, "Did Soni's 3:00 cancel? God loves me, is that what you're telling me?" and she said, "yep."

I was soaring. What an incredible tender mercy of the Lord! I got home and decided to immerse myself in the Word of God, for I was most certainly in need of comfort. And comfort is exactly what I found. Comfort from God comes with bonuses, like clarity of mind, strength of heart, and priceless perspective. That night, I made dinner, did some laundry, and washed the dishes, and that had been the most I'd been able to muster up energy for all week, besides work.

Thursday was similar to Wednesday night. I felt amazing! I understood that my worth did not come from my family. I understood that I love them anyway. Soni helped me with objectivity and perspective, and helped me understand the differences between dysfunctional and functional communication, and gave me comfort and wisdom. My family doesn't hate me. They just suck at communication, and none of us are perfect, aye? The whole day, I felt light and powerful, like I could conquer the world if I was so required. I could feel the Atonement of my Jesus enlightening me. I could feel His power empowering me. I knew the Source of my Strength, and I could not deny it. I was happy and hopeful.

I am still happy and hopeful. I am at the foot of an enormous mountain of a trial, and it's going to be a long climb. But it will end. And, because of this week, I know, without a smidgen of doubt, that my God will help me through it.

Another significant trial this whole last week was that Marsha, my addict, had been doing cartwheels. Oh, what emotional triggers roused her! Every day was a struggle of extreme temptation. I didn't know how much more temptation I could withstand. I wasn't doing anything to invite the temptation other than having a crappy week, and it was so unfair! But, I was remembering to pray, and getting reminders to pray, and I was praying very specifically that I wouldn't "enter into temptation." The temptation was dancing before me, holding all these doors wide open, but I didn't enter. I haven't experienced that much wild, demanding need for my addictions in months, if not years. I'm grateful and somewhat surprised to say that I made it through safe.

In other but spiritually related news, today I was sustained as Beehive Advisor in my ward. I'm very excited about this calling, and feel humbled by it as well. I haven't ever served in the YW before, but I'm feeling up to the challenge. I intend to put my whole heart in it.

I felt like this calling came at an excellent time in my life. I need the distraction from missing my boyfriend. Also, I have been growing spiritually over the months, and it feels like I'm almost ready, now more than ever, to be a leader to impressionable and wonderful young women. I am taking this as an enormous responsibility, one that I will take seriously, and one that I feel ready to take seriously because of my recent spiritual growth. I know that I will learn so much more being their teacher, and I'm excited about that! In my blessing when I was set apart, I was told that this calling came at the right time.

And here's the thing. God's timing is everything. This whole mess with my boyfriend is about God's timing. Perhaps this whole mess with my family is about God's timing. This calling is about God's timing. I am impatient and impulsive, and my Father has been working hard to teach me to trust His timing, and I'm finally paying attention. He gets it right. Every. Time. His timing is perfect, every time! And it's not even just that His timing is the righteous timing so I should wait and obey, but it's also that by trusting His timing, my life turns out way better than I ever imagined it could. I mean, I get all these blessings, all these treats and tender mercies, dotting the path of my feet constantly when I trust and adhere to His timing, His will.

I feel like I am finally starting to really live like I'm converted to the Gospel of Christ. I feel like I'm finally starting to understand that He really does have a plan for my life, and that His plan for my life is spectacular. Ima trust it, y'all.

A Losing Battle

I guess there are things I must get used to as an addict. I guess I simply must give up hope for elimination of the stigma. It seems that men with a pornography addiction are branded by many people, without exception, as evil/monsters/hopeless/adulterers/vengeful, etc., and that women with a pornography addiction are scarcely even on the radar, and when we are, we are still branded by many as freaks of nature and not at all feminine. I thought I could change the stigma by being open. It's laughable, really, the power I thought I had. I thought I could show people that "addict" is not synonymous with "monster." I have attended PASG meetings with dozens of amazing, humble, righteous, strong LDS men, men who are addicted to pornography, yet men who are striving for continual improvement and for the survival of their marriages and for maintained temple worthiness more than most other men I know. I have attended PASG meetings with LDS women, women who are addicted to pornography, who are just like all other women, just as feminine, just as tender, and who are striving for healing and righteousness more than many other women I know. They are humble and willing to work, and beautiful. I thought that by being open, I could help others understand that addicts aren't crappy human beings, and if they are, it's not because they're addicted, but they are our brothers and sisters who need help and light and support, and who can give help and light and support. I actually thought, I think, that little ol' me had the power to change the general non-addict's perception of addicts among us. I have worked to bring it out of obscurity as a women's addiction, and I have worked to show that it's a human struggle, and that the struggle is as heavy and burdensome and maddening as any.

I stand corrected. I slump discouraged. I now see that the task I have volunteered for is a task far too great for one person. I now see that perceptions of others are, apart from being none of my business, impossible for me to influence by a few honest words, or a few blog posts. And I have to be okay with that, because I have made crappy choices. If I'm going to be open with this, then I have to accept the consequences of people around me never hearing my message. And, not because they don't like me, and not always even because they judge me, but many times it's because their real, personal experiences do not match up with what I'm saying about the addicts I know. And that's what we all go by, right? Our experience.

While I now have a better understanding that many (most, probably) LDS members' hardwired harsh and negative perception of sexual addictions will not be easily changed, I will still fight my own battle. I will still march to and through recovery. I will even still speak my truths, my perceptions, and the experiences I have with the wonderful, inspiring recovering addicts I know, love, and deeply admire. Perhaps I am seen as intentionally donning a red S, but I speak for more people than only myself, and I will wear that scarlet letter for myself and for them, and I will wear it so others who are seeking to be free from their own addictions, especially women, will see someone who is doing it, and do you know why? Because it was years before I even ever considered that I might not be the only one, and as long as isolation and fear were my companions, recovery was impossible.

That isolation, that feeling of being all alone in a damning, joy-killing addiction, is hell. I can't imagine Hell being much worse, actually.

In Harper Lee's book To Kill a Mockingbird, Atticus Finch says, "Real courage is when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through." Maybe I didn't understand that I was licked before I began. I understand it now. I'm definitely licked. I'm fighting an increasingly bloody, losing battle. But, I intend to see it through.

Questions to ask After a Slip

In his most recent blog post entitled "Question to Ask Yourself After a Relapse," Ben Luthi suggests some . . . well . . . questions to ask yourself after a relapse. I thought it seemed like a good idea, so I'm going to answer the questions here, now. Only, I'll answer them based on a slip, not a relapse.

What thoughts did I have that led up to the relapse? I was tired. I thought I was just going to go to bed. I mean, that was my plan. Other than that, I felt frustrated and angry at myself for basically not being perfect. I was exhausted from a very challenging several months, particularly the most recent 4 weeks. 

How did it happen? Just like it always does. There was a something online that piqued my curiosity. It had been born of some innocent post. I went on to search for "innocent" terms till I "accidentally" came upon some inappropriate images. I also discovered that my filter on my phone doesn't work over wifi, which confuses me a great deal. But, that left an entire world at my fingertips. I could access anything.

Did I want it? Yes.

How do I feel now? I went through various stages of grief, if you will. I'm just sad now. So, so, so sad. At first, I was angry. And I tried hard to shut out everything. I slept late and stayed in bed till noon. I avoided conversations. I avoided talking to God. I was going to go to the temple today. I'm so, so sad.

What have I learned? I don't even know! I feel like it's the same thing every time- I didn't surrender. I didn't let go and let God. I clung to my absurd and harmful need for control and insisted on doing things my way. It cost me, as it always does, in the same way it always does.

What am I going to do different this time? I purchased and downloaded an accountability app called Ever Accountable. I've only ever used filters before. With Ever Accountable, all of my internet activity will be logged and then emailed to 3 people of my choice every week. I chose people I trust, as well as people I never want to know what I'm doing online when I'm up to no good. One of them is my brother. I will die if he ever knows what sites I slowly end up on during my climb to sin. It's equally important to make sure the other two never receive reports of me accessing inappropriate material. I hope it helps. I think it will because I can't think of anything worth the embarrassment of these people knowing what I've looked up and looked at. 

How long has this been going on? (Negative emotions, filling up the lust balloon, etc.) Like, 3 months.

What negative emotions have I been feeling? (Resentment, stress, anger, sadness, self-pity, apathy, etc.) Stress, tiredness, fear, anger, self-pity, anxiety

Am I  taking care of myself spiritually, emotionally and physically? Not well enough. I try to include God in everything, all the time. But I can see that my focus on scripture study has weakened. I haven't been getting enough sleep. I haven't been paying any attention to what I'm eating.

Am I praying to know what my part in Heavenly Father’s plan is? Uh, no, not that specifically. 

Have I submitted my will to Him in all things? No! I'm trying to get Him to submit to my will. This is where it's the same thing every time. Every time it comes down to my failure to surrender to Him. How is it that I haven't learned this yet?!

What’s going on in my life outside my addiction? A lot of really hard, stressful, exhausting things. 

Am I getting enough sleep? no.

Am I doing my dailies? I guess this is Step 10? In which case, no.

Am I working my recovery program? See above!

Am I attending meetings regularly? Yes!

Am I reaching out to others who are in recovery? Yes! But, not the day of my last slip.

Who am I doing this for? I'm assuming "doing" means "recovering," and that is for me, for my children, for my posterity, for my future spouse, and for my God and my Jesus.

Am I being fully honest with myself? I would guess not. I'm actually in recent denial over being an addict. I so deeply want to not be an addict that I convince myself sometimes that addiction is no longer a problem. Oh, but it is, it is! Every dang day. Sometimes I'm so arrogant. 

Am I being fully honest with my spouse? I wish this was applicable!

Do I have hope? If not, what do I need to regain the hope I need to press forward? Oh, yes. I have so much hope. 

Why do I want recovery? Because I want freedom and peace.

What things in my routine do I need to change to be more successful? I need to have a set time for spiritual study, and stick to it fully and honestly and sincerely. Real intent. I need more Real Intent. I need to set a time of night after which I am simply not allowed to access the internet. Maybe I'll see if I can shut it off after a certain time through my router. I need to get to sleep on time.

What things do I need to stop trying to do on my own and give up to God? Basically everything. I mean, that's the truth.

How do I cope with the shame and guilt I am feeling in a healthy way? Well, there is nothing healthy about shame, so there's no healthy way to cope with it. But, I'm trying to use this burning, heavy guilt and sorrow to propel me to make immediate changes, and to re-ignite my focus. I am taking to God my shame (I definitely feel shame about this, though I know it's counterproductive and dangerous), and letting Him fill up my heart with His grace and love, which He is doing. Oh, how He loves us! I always feel Him the moment I turn back to Him.

In Your Face, Marsha!

As you may recall, I named my "addict" Marsha. She came over to play today.

I want to document this victory for my own self. I actually sort of doubt it will be very helpful to anyone else, but just in case, I share.

I've been single nearly 8 years. I dated a fellow about 3 years ago for about 3 weeks, but other than that, nothing remotely serious has happened since my divorce. Needless to say, I get very lonely sometimes. I long for the companionship of a worthy, kind man. Sometimes the longing is unbearable.

I've made some very risky, very bad choices with men since my divorce. I've kissed more men after my marriage than before. I have been unable to resist when a kiss becomes an option.

It always feels like kissing will mean I'm loved. It always feels like being sexually desired by someone will mean I'm important.

Only, today I know better.

Knowing better is hard. Knowing better bears with it an annoying responsibility. Knowing better is ultimately freedom.

The security guard at work thinks I'm cute. "I see you come in," he said the other day, "and I think you're so cute. I'm . . . I'm not very good at this. I hope I'm not being creepy. But I'd like to get to know you better. So . . . here's my number, and you can text me. If you want."

It made my day. Me? Cute? HECK YES! YES YES YES! A MAN THINKS I'M CUTE!

Naturally, I texted him a few hours later, on my first break.

We chatted a little about relatively normal stuff. We discovered we have a 7 year age difference; he being younger. He thought I was 25! YES YES YES! I'll be 34 next month, so, that was fun. He said he would like to still get to know me. Okay.

Eventually, today, he invited me to see a movie at his house. He said something about "snuggling" and getting to know me better.

Marsha exploded into 40 Marshas doing cartwheels in my head and chest, shouting for joy and glory. The Marshas painted this wonderful picture of cuddling and making out and . . . the game. I was planning a game before I consciously realized it. I would lead him on. I would let him think I was as into him as he seemed to be me, and I would have a manfriend who would hold me and kiss me. Just for a while! Just till I was tired. I knew I could get him to kiss me. I could probably have someone to kiss this very weekend. Easily. I was planning. Plotting. Conniving.

Justifying. Rationalizing. Salivating. I wanted it. So much. I wanted to lean against him while watching a movie. I wanted to stop watching the movie. I imagined what it would be like. I imagined some of the innocent-but-not-really things we might do. So delightful! So nice!

It would be alright. I haven't even kissed a man in over a year. It's high time! It's not like I'm going to sleep with him.

Marsha was thrilled. Finally! Another kiss! For me! I'm important!

Oh, dear. I am so broken. I am so broken because it really does truly really feel like being in the arms of a man, and being kissed by a man, is the same thing as having worth. But, as I said, I know better. So when the Marshas kept on screaming at me that this was the best choice- to plan and conspire and lead Security Guard along till I was ready to discard him, or at least just for one night enjoy his physical presence- I actually heard their lies as lies. I was actually able to envision the truth. If I go to his house and watch a movie, I will kiss him. And, instead of that being incredibly exciting, it's dangerous. I know me! I know I will get carried away at the first opportunity! I know I will shut off my mind and throw my judgment out the car window on the way to his place. I know I will not be able to think right. I know I will make choices that I will deeply regret in the future.

[This future thinking stuff is so foreign. It feels amazing and terrifying.]

Then I thought about my children. I thought about my temple recommend. I even thought about my reputation! I thought about him and his worth, and I thought he deserved respect. I remembered that my body is a masterpiece. I thought about my Jesus.

I considered my options, friends! This is something rational people do! I considered the amazing moments I could share with the security guard. I considered how I greatly miss physical affection. I considered how I greatly long to be important to a man, and here was a chance to feel that. I considered everything I have learned over the course of recovery. I considered that what I really want is something he can't provide me, and that what I really want can't be found in superficial affection.

It became apparent that I would make the right choice, and I had a period of grieving. It's not fair. It's not! It's not fair that I have to steel my lips and hands and heart till someone who will honor them comes along, when that someone may never ever come along. It's not fair that if I honor myself, I must respect myself and others, and not use my body as a plaything. It's not fair that I have to be single and alone and lonely. It's hard to say no- it is so hard to say no- but I understand that I must say no because I know better.

And so, I told him I'm on a journey of no sexual contact, not even kissing, for the foreseeable future, but that I hoped we could still be friends. He said sure, and asked why would I do such a journey?

I will show you what I told him.

And, dude. I'm so proud of myself. I feel powerful, like I can do anything I need to do. And, the love that I feel like I need from men when I behave recklessly, I gave it to myself. And it actually filled some of the holes that making out with men never fills.

This is a huge mark of progress. It's a huge indicator of the healing that I have done. I'm so thankful to my Savior for healing me. Look! Look at this! I stopped a disaster before it happened! I saved myself from profound regret, which is never worth the pleasure! I chose to keep my temple recommend, and to be worthy of the Sacrament on Sunday! I chose my kids, I chose my heart, I chose my God.

I'm Almost Certain I Won't Slip Again

I'm a little scared to write this post. The reason I decided to is because my favorite posts to re-read are the ones in which I'm totally honest, holding nothing back. I get annoyed with myself when I re-read a post and I know I was holding back what I really felt. I think, why didn't I just lay it all out there? and I realize that it would have been a more helpful post if I had been totally forthcoming.

And so, I write you this confession. I confess that, in this moment, I feel quite sure I will never slip again. Considering my last slip was 9 days ago, I realize I may be delusional. For example, let me tell you about my experience when I'm eating chips out of a bag. After I've had a few, this happens:

This is my last chip. Okay, well, after this next little handful, I won't have anymore. I'm sorta sick of the chips, anyway. I've had enough. Oh, now that I finished that little handful, I suddenly want more, so I think I'll just have another one. This is the last one for sure. No more, I've had enough. Hmm, now that I've finished that one, I may as well have another one- what's the difference between one more and two more?"

I figure that as long as I have a salty, delicious chip in my mouth, I can fathom not having another one. But as soon as I swallow it, I feel like I want another one! My point is, with my last slip being so recent (relatively), perhaps it's like a chip is still in my mouth.

Or, perhaps, it's something more.

Really, I don't know if I'll slip again. I don't know what I'll choose tomorrow, or next week, or next month, so it's impossible to predict. And I get that.

But, today, for right now, I feel like I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the life that Marsha -- Addiction -- offers. I'm sick of the excuses I have to make and the lies I have to believe (or pretend to believe) in order to keep her alive. For today, it feels like addiction and lust and hopelessness are utterly incompatible with my current life. Additionally, I know just how not to slip. I know all the things I need to do to avoid that pitfall. And I believe I will do them. I believe I will continually do them, and do them better than I do them now. I believe I will do more and learn more as I follow the Spirit and keep the commandments. I know that if I continue on the right and righteous path that the scriptures point me to, that I cannot fall into the grasp of Satan long enough to slip.

Also, as I look back on my last slip, it feels different. It feels like it was more out of rebellion and apathy than compulsion. I'm not saying that's a good thing, not remotely. In fact, I think it makes it worse. However, if I'm right, it means that I am not imprisoned anymore by addiction.

There is only one way out of hell, and that's Jesus. There is only one way to Salvation and Eternal Life, and that's Jesus. I was in Hell, and He has carried me out. I was alone and scared in a dark, cold forest, surrounded by beasts of terror who wished to devour me, and Jesus came after me and I finally decided to follow Him out. I'm following Him out. With Him, I am safe. With Him, I can withstand all of life's trials. He will take my arrows of unfair circumstances and my bullets of personal weakness. He will stay the beasts that come to attack me and destroy me. All I have to do is stay by His side, and walk with Him.

If I do that, and as long as I'm doing that, I won't ever slip again. Not in this addiction. I will continue to make mistakes, daily! I will continue to succumb to other weaknesses. But not this one. This one, I can be free of every day that I chose to be free of it.

And . . . I believe I will so choose, which means, I will never slip again.

We'll see, I guess! I hope this isn't arrogant, because if I am arrogant, I'm prideful, and pride is a breeding grounds for temptation. But if I trust my Jesus, that is not arrogance.

Regardless of my journey ahead, I know that I am of great worth to my Father and my Savior. Regardless, I know that They will continue to hold out their open arms to me, ready to fight my battles and guide me to happiness.

I'm hate addiction! I hate pornography! I love freedom and serenity. I can have freedom if I choose it, and serenity if I want it.

When Serenity is Scary

Most addicts in recovery are well-acquainted with the oft-quoted adage above, known as the Serenity Prayer. Google's definition of Serenity is "a state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled." Oh, sweet serenity! Serenity is trust in God, a trust that because He is God, everything will be alright.

My last slip happened on my 123rd day. It happened on a day after I'd enjoyed many consecutive days of abstinence, as well as straight-up peace; serenity. I had been so happy. On Christmas Eve, I posted the following on Facebook:

"All month my heart has been soaring with happiness. I don't know why, really, but I'm not gonna overthink it. I'm just so happy and so grateful and so covered in love. Even with the stress and busyness of the prison program prep, my ex calling CPS on me and having them in my house, the stress of Anna's birthday party, of her choir program that I accompanied, of worrying about sufficient income for mortgage and bills and gifts- even with all the unpleasant goings-on- I just feel I have been blessed beyond my ability to begin to capture in a FB post. I feel a beautiful calm in my heart, a peace, a serenity, a reassurance to the point beyond doubt that everything will be okay always.
I'm just happy."

And it was true. I had experienced an insane amount of continuous peace. My trust in my Savior was carrying me insomuch that I felt like I was floating.

But, I began to fear the peace. Peace is something I'm still not so familiar with. I'm much more familiar with continuous torment. I am much more intimately acquainted with fear and self-loathing, with the uneasiness of the sin-afflicted soul. I'm familiar with feeling like life is crap with moments of joy, rather than life is joy with moments of crap. I look back and see so clearly that the consequence to sin is misery! I was miserable- I drank misery because it's all that was available, as far as I could see, and it was abundant in a steady stream. Serenity came sometimes! Serenity was dear and fleeting, like a first backyard butterfly of the summer. And, because Addiction was my lifestyle, serenity rushed away quickly- every time.

I had taught myself that serenity was fleeting. But, it wasn't serenity; it was my own repentance that fled so readily. My own obedience.

Even so, I think my last slip, on my 123rd day the other week, was in some way a self-sabotage. This long-time serenity became bewildering, and even suffocating in my untrained heart. I couldn't handle the peace of trust, because it suddenly began to feel foreign. I withdrew trust, and, not so surprisingly, surrendered my sobriety. I had no such intention! Truly, I didn't. I regret it wholeheartedly.

But, I'm lying right now. Sort of. I mean, serenity isn't foreign. Serenity feels like home. It's secure and warm and safe. It feels like a hug from a loving, accepting, fully-invested parent. It feels like a memory- a memory of pre-mortal eternities. Nothing feels more right than serenity. What's foreign is my acceptance of it, my desire for it, my commitment to it. The truth is, I became overwhelmed by being too far away from my old friend Marsha. I became frustrated that serenity and Marsha are utterly incompatible. There is no and! There is only or! Sin or serenity. (Incidentally, I recommend the movie Into the Woods,) Serenity is infinitely better but sin is easier. 

So, I guess if I'm being honest with myself, serenity isn't scary at all, ever. What's scary, when I withdraw my trust in Jesus, is the idea that choosing serenity means choosing a lifestyle of repentance, and of giving up forever the lusts (sexual and otherwise) of the flesh. 

I chose momentary pleasure and escape over serenity and good favor with God. That's it. That's what I did. I am so grateful that I understand the Atonement well enough to know that my choices are not sure damnation as long as I turn back to Him and walk His path. I am grateful to understand that my worth remains unaltered by this slip! I am grateful that I am now wise enough to stand up quickly and dust myself off, rather than rolling in the mud for a few days like I used to do. I'm deeply grateful for a Savior, who has covered me for even this, again. I'm so sorry He had to.

I'm also grateful serenity isn't a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I'm grateful that I can choose it now. And I am choosing it now.