tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45654654506353642452024-02-07T01:39:58.803-07:00Offerings of My Heart D&C 59:8
Thou shalt offer a sacrifice unto the Lord thy God in righteousness, even that of a broken heart. . . .Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.comBlogger296125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-64486158593114428722016-05-06T22:08:00.001-06:002016-05-07T10:16:34.092-06:00Forgiving the Man Who Raped Me, Part INOTE: Here I talk about my rape story. I do not mean to imply anywhere herein that men/boys cannot be victims of rape, nor do I mean to imply that the rapes of boys and men are not as important as the rapes of women and girls. That said, the data I will discuss has to do with female victims, but please don't take that as an implication that I believe males are exempt from rape and its horrible effects.<br />
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I didn't know it was rape. I thought that in order for it to be rape, it had to be uninvited, and I reasoned that since I'd somewhat-voluntarily had sex with him before, I had invited it <i>that </i>time, even though I was begging him to stop, "no, Thomas, please, no!" through desperate sobs, even though I couldn't move from under him, even though he promised no sex.<br />
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There are a few reasons I'm talking about this now. I have been meaning to for over a year because rape is something we <i>don't</i> talk about. I believe we need to talk about it. There are several reasons those of us who have been victims don't talk about it, including:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
We're not believed<br />
The stigma is heavy<br />
We are emotionally dismissed<br />
No one knows what to say, so they often say nothing, which is often worse than saying the wrong thing.</blockquote>
Do you know anyone who's been raped? I can almost guarantee that you know several women who've been raped, as it has happened to <a href="https://rainn.org/get-information/statistics/sexual-assault-victims" target="_blank">1 in 6 women</a>. Mind you, that's 1 in 6 women have reported their rapes (I should guess), but I personally know several women who never reported their rapes, myself included, so the actual number is likely higher. But 1 in 6 women do not talk about it, because, in my opinion, despite the fact that we are <i>not </i>alone, we are made to feel alone. I have a lot of weird stories, tragic stories, wonderful stories, devastating stories, but the story that upsets the hearer most of all my stories is the story of my rapes. In fact, if you know me, this is most likely the first you've even heard of it. I don't talk about it because of the points above, and other points, like the fact that someone usually starts talking about the women who falsely cry rape, and when I'm telling you about my rape, I do not want to be compared to those comparatively few women. (I'd wager that far more are the women who never report than the women who falsely report. This is not to say that those false reports are not a problem, because certainly they are, but when I'm talking about rape, I am not talking about <i>not</i> rape, thank you very much.)<br />
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Of all crimes, it seems like rape is the easiest one to blame the victim. I see too many news articles that even now in this "enlightened" age, mention where the victim was (like maybe at a bar, for example), what she'd had to drink, and even what she was wearing. Just as I can expect a man to not steal my car even if he's been in it, I should also expect someone to not rape me, even if he can see some extra skin.<i> Men are not default rapists. </i>Oh, when will we stop expecting them to be? When will we stop saying "boys will be boys" as if to excuse domineering and disrespectful behaviors?<br />
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The first time I told someone I had been raped- several months later- she said, "so? who hasn't?" Oh, what pain must have been in both of our souls, pain that remained un-felt.<br />
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I was 20. It had been 3 weeks since my boyfriend and I had last had sex, and I was determined to continue abstinence until we got married. We were planning to get married in about six months. I don't need to discuss the details of the event here, but it was awful, traumatic, terrifying, and soul-obliterating. It <i>permanently </i>changed me. I wrote in my journal that night, "he hates me." And later, "I'm nothing. If I'm going to be nothing, I may as well be <i>his </i>nothing." And so I became. He left me sobbing in my bed that night. All but one of my roommates had gone away for Labor Day weekend, so I had the room to myself. I dumped him by voicemail a few hours later, but in the morning he stopped by and offered me a ride to the bank. He gave me a package of Chips Ahoy cookies and said, "I'm sorry."<br />
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When someone rapes you and then the next day comes over with cookies as a token of apology, what do you do? I, unfortunately, ignored the figurative slap-to-my-face and simply said, "You can't be sorry enough," and he said, "I know."<br />
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I accepted his offer and let him drive me to the bank, reasoning that I had no car, but I needed to get to the bank, and also believing I deserved nothing better than him anyway. Even though I had verbally dumped him a few hours earlier, I didn't separate myself from him for another four months. I did move away a few weeks later, but during those few weeks of staying, I submitted to the worthlessness I believed about myself, and I just didn't care anymore. I didn't care what he did to my body. It was easier that way. It was easier to let him do whatever he wanted because if I didn't fight him, then it was mutual. If I didn't fight him, then he'd be finished with me soon enough and I could go on with the day. If I didn't fight him, then Labor Day Weekend doesn't repeat itself. It was easier to pretend like I wanted it because then it didn't feel like what the actual truth was: he was using me for my body, and to him, I <i>was</i> my body and nothing more. Instead of acknowledging that, I just, essentially, held my breath till he was done.<br />
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That went on for about two weeks before I allowed God to rescue me, and He gave me the courage to move. I dropped all my classes and left the college I loved so much to get away from being constantly used. I didn't break up with him right away, though. I still believed I would marry him, until I allowed God to grant me the courage to totally break it off the following December. To date, that's one of the most difficult things I've ever done.<br />
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At my disciplinary council two months later, I was asked, "did he ever force himself on you?" Well, I had slept with him before. On the day of the rape, we were in my bed together. My bed. He didn't drag me there kicking and screaming; I went with him. Also, it wasn't a movie-scene rape; I hadn't been hit or drugged or blindfolded, and so I figured it wasn't as bad as most rapes and so what right had I to feel crappy about it? Because of all that, and because I didn't want to be the reason he wasn't allowed to serve a mission, I said, "no." But the answer was "yes, a few times." Labor Day weekend, for one (but I believed it was my fault because I had agreed to be in my bed with him, and because I'd slept with him before). A few other times, I woke in the middle of the night to being raped (but I felt it was my fault because I was the one who fell asleep with him in his bed).<br />
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There are two important and significant problems with this story:<br />
1. I believed his sin of rape against me was my fault<br />
2. I believed I was destined to Hell because of my own sins<br />
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You and I can understand now that it wasn't my fault. Permission one time does not grant unlimited permission. Having a house guest for a night does not give them permission to move in, or to ever stay again at any point, without express permission. Lending a neighbor a garden tool one time does not give her permission to use it every time she wants it going forward. <i>People </i>are <i>ever </i>more important than garden tools or guest bedrooms. I wish I could go back and tell myself I was <i>not</i> to blame. My sins did <i>not</i> grant him future, exclusive pardon. I wish I could go back and tell myself that sharing a bed with him, though unwise as a faithful Latter-day Saint, is not the same thing as agreeing to sex. I wish I could go back to tell myself that having sex before I was married did not make me hopeless and worthless, as I then <i>completely </i>believed. I wish I could go back and convince myself to call the police on that guy, and even if the cops didn't believe me (which was my greatest fear when I considered calling the police), the report would be there. I wish I could go back to my disciplinary council and say "yes, yes he did force himself on me," and even if they didn't believe me, the truth would have been in my report. I wish I could go back and convince myself, "telling the truth about him raping you does not look like you excusing yourself from your bad choices. Stop worrying about that," and "it's <i>his</i> fault he can't serve a mission."<br />
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But I just didn't understand. I thought I was doing the right, noble, righteous thing by withholding information about his coercion. I didn't understand that my worth was never changed, not for a moment, by my sins and choices, nor by Thomas's estimation of me. I didn't understand grace or the Atonement of Jesus at all. I didn't understand that I was truly eligible for complete forgiveness, and that God loved me every moment of that time, in the exact same way He loved me before I had made those very poor choices. I didn't understand that He was there with open arms, ready and eager to love me back to spiritual health.<br />
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It took <i>years</i> to fully believe that I was not responsible for being raped. Once I recognized that I had been wronged, I also recognized that I needed to forgive.<br />
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I'm going to tell you something. I have been through a moderate amount of life's crap. My ex husband's adultery. Extreme emotional abuse. Divorce. Poverty. Single parenthood. Mothering a darling son who has autism. Unemployment. Homelessness. <i>None </i>of that compares to being raped. All of that stuff <i>combined </i>doesn't compare to being raped. It's still sad to me, 14.5 years later. After all this time, it <i>still </i>causes me some pain and suffering; it <i>still </i>skews my perspective, even though I have finally reached the point where I do not hold it against him.<br />
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So how do you forgive someone for doing something he never could be sorry enough for? And why are we expected to forgive people who do unforgivable things?<br />
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More on that to come. </div>
Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-12807607348866000402016-03-17T22:55:00.000-06:002016-03-17T22:55:55.208-06:00Still an AddictMy, it's been a long time!<br />
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I have been busy getting engaged and stuff. DUDE! I'M ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED!<br />
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Nine years ago this month, my ex husband left. Finally I have found someone. I thought it'd take two years tops, and almost a decade later, I get a 2nd chance. He was more than worth the wait.<br />
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I've been dating this fellow for about a year and I always hoped that meeting a guy would cure me. I knew it could never be that way, but I hoped it would be anyway. Well, I can tell you with certainty that having a man in my life does not erase my addiction. I know, then, that marriage will also not "cure" me, and I'm more motivated than ever to let it go to God.<br />
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I'm making progress, as my bishop consistently reminds me. I'm the facilitator now at my local ARP meeting, which baffles me. When I was asked by the Stake high-counilman, I told him I was most definitely still in recovery, still slipping, and was he sure? He said yes and I said alright. Last Friday was March 11, and we did Step 2. Funny thing, March 11 was my <a href="http://step-4.blogspot.com/2011/03/report-of-arp.html" target="_blank">first ARP</a> meeting EVER, five years ago, and we also did step 2 that day! I thought that was noteworthy.<br />
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<i>Five years.</i>I have been attempting to recover for five years. Okay, let's be self-fair. I have been in recovery for five years, and I have made remarkable progress. Five years ago, going 11 days without pornography or masturbation was a feat worth posting about. Five years ago, my clothing was shame and my supper was fear. Five years ago, I was too ashamed to use my real name on this blog. I would go to ARP and hope no one would drive by the local seminary building and see my car. What would they think?! Oh, I worried so much someone I knew would see my car and call me and ask, simply in genuine curiosity, "why were you at the seminary building Friday night?" What could I say to them? Five years ago, I believed that if people knew I was an addict- a <i>pornography</i> addict no less- they would want nothing to do with me. I felt like a dirty diaper. Five years ago, I didn't understand that the Atonement was for <i>me.</i> In some ways, I still don't understand. Five years seems like a very long time to my inner-critic. It seems irresponsible and pathetic of me that I'm <i>still a freaking addict </i>after five years of ARP-assisted recovery. My inner-critic shakes her head and dismisses any progress I've made because, what does it matter? it shouldn't have taken this long. I should have had this licked years ago. I should be done with this by now.<br />
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But my inner cheerleader has mighty good things to say. Like, for example, the fact that <i style="font-weight: bold;">I haven't sought out visual pornography in 13 months!!! </i>Say what? Five years ago, I couldn't have seen a day where I'd ever be able to say that! A year ago last month was the last time I watched a porn video. It feels amazing. Dude. A whole year. I didn't do a year at a time; that's impossible. I did a year one day at a time.<br />
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Don't be misled; I have still sought out pornography; I have simply managed to raise the bar of what I find acceptable, even in my darkest, most desperate moments. In the recent past (for my own reference: I think six weeks ago this weekend), I have found written pornography and read it. That's where I am now. That's where my slips are: textual porn and stuff. It's sometimes difficult to celebrate success when I'm still a prisoner to my flesh. I'm still an addict, through and through. I still mentally turn to sex or something sexual at signs of stress or sorrow or anxiety. It's still my go-to! <i>Several times daily</i>, I have to kick out the invading thoughts which threaten my sobriety and worthiness. And when will I get to stop fighting so hard, so constantly? Is this how recovery goes? Raising the bar bit by bit till it's too high to break? If I accept written porn now, will it be limited to mere ideas later? If it's every six weeks now, will I gain strength to go 10 weeks, then 12, then 50? Is it just a constant progression, or can I hope for an end?<br />
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It's weird to abhor something so completely while still feeling an attraction to it. I don't feel "done" with pornography. I mean, I still find the idea appealing. I still fight out the idea all the time. I still feel so weak.<br />
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God is trying to teach me to stop hurrying everything. I'm learning so slowly. Patience, Stephanie.<br />
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Something sorta amazing happened the other day. I was driving home from a stressful day at work, and my mind was blank, but then I realized I was thinking about something inappropriate, and even making plans to participate in something inappropriate. As usual, I kicked that thought out my brain with great annoyance, but I went a step further. "Hold on," I whispered to myself. "<i>What's wrong?"</i> I asked myself what's wrong. If my default thought to find comfort is something sexual, then what am I seeking comfort about? I thought about it, and validated all the things that were making me sad or worried. I let myself feel it and tried very hard to not judge myself for feeling it.<br />
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You guys, I feel like this is groundbreaking. If I can do this every time I have an idea or a thought that threatens my worthiness, I will love myself back to health. "Stephanie, what's wrong?" Addiction is coping gone bad. Asking myself what's going on when I recognize those thoughts will help me cope well, and I'm excited about that.<br /><br />God is so good. How He loves us! How He teaches us! Truly, He gives us gifts and enlightenment line upon line, as we are ready. How I love my Savior, my Redeemer, my advocate, Who comes to get me every time I stray, Whose arms are ever-open toward me.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-23156198141173109712015-11-08T00:32:00.001-07:002015-11-08T00:32:36.766-07:00How Pornography has Affected the way I View WomenWhenever 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 <i>in general.</i> 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <i>always is</i>, was to notice her <i>body, </i>and by "notice-" let's get real, here- I mean <i>objectify.</i> My first impulse, as it <i>always is</i>, was to find something on her that would ignite something in me, something inappropriate, something lustful. And, as I <i>almost </i>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 <i>realized </i>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.<br />
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There is something I want to clear up at this point. When I say my impulse was <i>lust</i>, 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?<br />
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I wasn't having any sort of sexual identity crisis here, but I recognized then that what I was feeling about these women, <i>initially</i>, was lust. Well, perhaps "lust<i>ful</i>" is a better term. I was seeking to be aroused.<br />
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When I look at men, I do not seek to be aroused. I'll come back to that later.<br />
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Recently, I read this <i>excellent</i> article about lust. It's by Andrew over at <a href="http://rowboatandmarbles.org/" target="_blank">Rowboats and Marbles</a>, and I encourage you to <a href="http://rowboatandmarbles.org/flip-side-of-lust-few-lds-understand-drug-behind-porn-addiction.html" target="_blank">click here to read the article</a>. 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 <i>lusted after,</i> while men seek to <i>lust. </i>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 <i>after </i>while you're reading, and easier to <i>lust </i>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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <i>in</i> <i>order </i>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 <i>in general</i> into objects, and so I'm an object too, because I'm a woman, and I am an object unto my own self.<br />
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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>I</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>I</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 <i>anyone</i>, do my thoughts turn to lust.<br />
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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>I </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.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://korahjo.wordpress.com/2014/11/06/unit-4-typographic-poster/" target="_blank">credit</a></td></tr>
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<i>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 </i>actually<i> 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. </i><br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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God help me. God, heal this broken mind!Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-76015640210380298412015-10-24T17:16:00.003-06:002015-10-24T17:18:16.794-06:00Addiction Recovery Program ConferenceI 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 <i>be</i> a presenter!<br />
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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 <i>recovered.</i> 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?<br />
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Not much, to be frank. All I could offer was my story. And that's what I offered. And it was enough.<br />
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As I was practicing, I realized that my story is very long and very complicated, and <i>all </i>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 <i>my</i> 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.<br />
<br />
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, <i>culturally, </i>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.<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-67930255009513718532015-09-25T21:47:00.000-06:002015-09-25T21:47:02.589-06:00The Power of HopeTonight, 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.<br />
<br />
There was no maybe about it.<br />
<br />
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:<br />
<br />
God, O God, my Father,<br />
Can't You feel my inside screams<br />
Bursting outward, upward, forward<br />
Through a megaphone of sin?<br />
Can't You see my face discolored<br />
By my heart's unending tears<br />
Do You not hear the desperation<br />
of my crumbling, wearied soul?<br />
I'm tired of this! Tired<br />
of the constant, blunt reminders<br />
Uninvited invitations<br />
to my chosen mortal vice<br />
God, O God, my Father<br />
Is there more hopeful a conclusion<br />
Than -- Why give to Thee this day<br />
When tomorrow I must fail?<br />
<br />
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 <i>each time I fall</i>, and I can rise <i>immediately</i> each time I fall. He will pick me up the moment I reach for His hand, <i>every time</i>. 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 <i>is</i> a miracle.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>has</i> 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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>hope</i>. How He loves us! How He loves me.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-8137021700056014792015-09-13T16:49:00.000-06:002015-09-13T16:58:30.715-06:00Reconciliation and SeparationI 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
The thoughts in my head this morning are these: As addicts, we must both <i>separate </i>our addictive behaviors from our worth, and <i>reconcile </i>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.<br />
<br />
I have a hard time reconciling this addiction with myself. I have had sexual addictions for <i>twenty years!!!,</i> 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 <i>not</i> 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>I am choosing.</i> This is what I have chosen! This is what <i>I</i> have chosen. This is what I have <i>chosen.</i> 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, <i>me! </i>I am not beyond this.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Step 1: Admit that you, of yourself, are powerless to overcome your addictions. <i>Admit</i>. Reconcile. Shed denial.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I slipped last night. I'm struggling the most with these types of thoughts: <i>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!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
But, clearly, I am not above this. And if I really break <i>that</i> down, then what it means is I am <i>still</i> 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-37218416832317993722015-08-16T23:02:00.003-06:002015-09-13T16:52:16.244-06:00Living ConvertedWell hi there!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>so sad.</i> 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:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The Atonement enables me to do good. It gives me strength to <i>do</i> good things, the good things for others, for my children, for myself. <i>My</i> strength is <i>not </i>sufficient!! <i>His is!!</i> Ask Him. Seek His strength. I was <i>given</i> weakness. I'm not created to handle it on my own. It's <i>impossible</i> 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.</blockquote>
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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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Also that Monday, though the details I will keep to myself at this point, my relationship with my boyfriend was abruptly and <i>completely</i> 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).<br />
<br />
Everyone. I felt to have lost everyone I loved the most, all at once, except, again, my kids.<br />
<br />
Monday, I cried basically all the day. I buried myself in my bedroom and let the kids fend for themselves, which they did.<br />
Tuesday, I cried basically all the day. I spent some time out of my bedroom, but not much.<br />
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 <i>hurt.</i><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Thursday was similar to Wednesday night. I felt <i>amazing</i>! 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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Another significant trial this whole last week was that <a href="http://step-4.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-lies-that-sustain-her.html" target="_blank">Marsha</a>, 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 <i>need</i> for my addictions in months, if not years. I'm grateful and somewhat surprised to say that I made it through safe.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>leader</i> 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 <i>excited</i> about that! In my blessing when I was set apart, I was told that this calling came at the right time.<br />
<br />
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. <i>He </i>gets it right. <i>Every. Time.</i> 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 <i>constantly</i> when I trust and adhere to His timing, His will.<br />
<br />
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 <i>spectacular.</i> Ima trust it, y'all.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-82590203174357016742015-04-19T22:35:00.000-06:002015-04-19T22:50:10.826-06:00A Losing BattleI 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 <i>give </i>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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
While I now have a better understanding that many (<i>most</i>, 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 <i>someone</i> 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 <i><b>impossible.</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
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.<br />
<br />
In Harper Lee's book <i>To Kill a Mockingbird</i>, 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.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-50919776415287127672015-03-07T23:12:00.002-07:002015-03-07T23:16:11.705-07:00Questions to ask After a SlipIn his most recent <a href="http://www.lethimhealyourheart.com/2015/03/questions-to-ask-yourself-after-a-relapse.html" target="_blank">blog post</a> entitled "Question to Ask Yourself After a Relapse," <a href="http://www.lethimhealyourheart.com/" target="_blank">Ben Luthi</a> 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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">What thoughts did I have that led up to the relapse? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">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. </span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">How did it happen? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">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 <i>anything.</i></span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Did I want it? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Yes.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">How do I feel now? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">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.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">What have I learned? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">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.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">What am I going to do different this time? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">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 <i>die</i> 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. </span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">How long has this been going on? (Negative emotions, filling up the lust balloon, etc.) </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Like, 3 months.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">What negative emotions have I been feeling? (Resentment, stress, anger, sadness, self-pity, apathy, etc.) </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Stress, tiredness, fear, anger, self-pity, anxiety</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Am I taking care of myself spiritually, emotionally and physically? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Not well enough. I try to include God in <i>everything, all the time. </i>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.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Am I praying to know what my part in Heavenly Father’s plan is? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Uh, no, not that specifically. </span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Have I submitted my will to Him in <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">all </em>things? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">No! I'm trying to get Him to submit to <i>my</i> 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?!</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">What’s going on in my life outside my addiction? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">A lot of really hard, stressful, exhausting things. </span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Am I getting enough sleep? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">no.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Am I doing my dailies? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">I guess this is Step 10? In which case, no.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Am I working my recovery program? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">See above!</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Am I attending meetings regularly? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Yes!</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Am I reaching out to others who are in recovery? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Yes! But, not the day of my last slip.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Who am I doing this for? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">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.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Am I being fully honest with myself? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">I would guess not. I'm actually in recent denial over being an addict. I so deeply <i>want</i> to <i>not</i> 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. </span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Am I being fully honest with my spouse? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">I wish this was applicable!</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Do I have hope? If not, what do I need to regain the hope I need to press forward? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Oh, yes. I have so much hope. </span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">Why do I want recovery? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Because I want freedom and peace.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">What things in my routine do I need to change to be more successful? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">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.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">What things do I need to stop trying to do on my own and give up to God? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Basically everything. I mean, that's the truth.</span></li>
<li style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 29.25px; list-style-type: decimal;"><span style="color: #333333;">How do I cope with the shame and guilt I am feeling in a healthy way? </span><span style="color: #c27ba0;">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 <i>feel</i> 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.</span></li>
Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-48388098433829897032015-01-21T23:42:00.000-07:002015-01-22T12:17:03.961-07:00In Your Face, Marsha!As you may recall, I named my "addict" <a href="http://step-4.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-lies-that-sustain-her.html" target="_blank">Marsha</a>. She came over to play today.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>unable </i>to resist when a kiss becomes an option.<br />
<br />
It always feels like kissing will mean I'm loved. It always feels like being sexually desired by someone will mean I'm important.<br />
<br />
Only, today I <i>know</i> better.<br />
<br />
Knowing better is hard. Knowing better bears with it an annoying responsibility. Knowing better is ultimately freedom.<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
It made my day. Me? Cute? HECK YES! YES YES YES! A MAN THINKS I'M CUTE!<br />
<br />
Naturally, I texted him a few hours later, on my first break.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Eventually, today, he invited me to see a movie at his house. He said something about "snuggling" and getting to know me better.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Marsha was thrilled. Finally! Another kiss! For me! I'm important!<br />
<br />
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 <i>truth.</i> 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 <i>know</i> I will make choices that I will deeply regret in the future.<br />
<br />
[This future thinking stuff is so foreign. It feels amazing and terrifying.]<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>so hard to say no-</i> but I understand that I must say no because I <i>know better.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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?<br />
<br />
I will show you what I told him.<br />
<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
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.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-51148496885617504602015-01-04T22:31:00.000-07:002015-01-04T22:31:10.646-07:00I'm Almost Certain I Won't Slip AgainI'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, <i>why didn't I just lay it all out there?</i> and I realize that it would have been a more helpful post if I had been totally forthcoming.<br />
<br />
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:<br />
<br />
<i>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><br />
<i><br /></i>
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.<br />
<br />
Or, perhaps, it's something more.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>utterly incompatible </i>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.<br />
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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 <b>I am not imprisoned anymore by addiction.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br /><br />And . . . I believe I will so choose, which means, I will never slip again.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-39682860865415753992015-01-02T02:06:00.002-07:002015-01-02T02:06:30.667-07:00When Serenity is Scary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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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.<br />
<br />
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:<br />
<br />
"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.<br />
I'm just happy."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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<br /></div>
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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 <i>right</i> 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. </div>
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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. </div>
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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.<br /><br />I'm also grateful serenity isn't a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I'm grateful that I can choose it now. And I <i>am</i> choosing it now. </div>
Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-36167636037303451832014-11-30T22:15:00.001-07:002014-11-30T22:32:18.538-07:00From Weakness to Strength<br />
**this is a quite informal post as it began as a Facebook post.**<br />
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The scriptures, both Bible and Book of Mormon, contain promises that God can/will turn our weaknesses into strengths if we turn to Him in humility and faith.<br />
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I decided to test God. I figured this was okay, since in <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/ot/mal/3.10-12?lang=eng" target="_blank">Malachi chapter 3</a> He basically says "Try me and see...."<br />
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As my friends and family and anyone who has ever been in my presence know, I have a larger-than-life weakness of disorganization. I hate it. My brain is not organized and therefore my life is not organized. I have ADD as well as a sorta-phobia of schedules and lists (like the idea of them makes me almost hyperventilate), and organization is just not my BFF. It's basically my worst enemy. I have tried MANY things to combat this weakness on my own. I have tried lists and schedules- both electronic and paper, reminders in my phones, self reward systems, therapy, medication, etc. Nothing helped, ever. I figured I will always be this way, and my life will always be extremely difficult because of it. But, as I said, I recently decided to test God on His promise.<br />
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I approached Him in faith and willingness to accept His will. If He wants me to suffer this weakness till I die, fine. I will. I went to Him with my weakness and basically said, "Father, this disorganization weakness is a real life-detractor. I disappoint people by forgetting. My house is a mess. I lose things all the time. It affects my parenting because my weakness prevents me from being consistent. You promised to turn weaknesses into strengths if we come to You in faith. Here I am. Please help me. If it's Thy will, turn this weakness into a strength." And I have been so praying for the past few months.<br />
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And, well, over the past few months, I have NOT become organized. But I can testify that I AM *<i>becoming</i>* organized. And it is blowing my mind, my friends, it is blowing my mind. I have made charts and calendars and goals. I fail them daily but I succeed daily also.<br />
<br />
The biggest, hugest, most remarkable change is that charts and schedules and lists don't scare me anymore. As I write that, I become a little weepy because it's a HUGE change! Our good Father, who is a God of miracles and a God of consistency who keeps His word, has shown me, little by little, that I have the <i>ability </i>to create and maintain structure. He has shown me, little by little, that I can try and fail and try again, and every time I try again, I get a little closer to my ultimate goal of organization. Things that seemed so impossible and terrifying before, now actually seem <i>doable</i> to me. I feel like I <i>can. </i>I <i>can</i> become an organized person. I would have never said that 3 months ago, but I can say it now because I truly, deeply believe it. I can become organized, because God can turn this weakness into a strength. And I think He <i>will</i>, because I <i>know </i>He <i>is</i>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrQvYWaf17r5NtGedHxjGxkfzqJfylyPac1BMKAt1pkjjbSz3iWofvVI0w2hKpHNhWzjBrKZoB0jrpaMMI7RhUIE6A1B2JsYl1B2mOCe-N57LtjLEV7B5PNiLe7D85Ik3QQKU_vJUFi_g/s1600/weak+things.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrQvYWaf17r5NtGedHxjGxkfzqJfylyPac1BMKAt1pkjjbSz3iWofvVI0w2hKpHNhWzjBrKZoB0jrpaMMI7RhUIE6A1B2JsYl1B2mOCe-N57LtjLEV7B5PNiLe7D85Ik3QQKU_vJUFi_g/s1600/weak+things.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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I am not organized. Compared to mankind's normal capacity for organization, I am not even close. But compared to 3 months ago, I'm basically Martha Stewart! God is giving me the motivation I need to maintain the schedules and ideas He is helping me create and begin. This is such an enormous miracle. Maybe it's one that only I can understand and appreciate, because at this point, my new-found organization skills are not really visible to anyone but myself. However, keep watching, friends. Keep watching, and you will see me become organized. And you will be amazed.<br />
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What does this have to do with addiction, you may ask? Well, what <i>doesn't</i> it have to do with addiction? Is not addiction weakness? I know we may have some of our weaknesses till we die. Elder Jorg Klebingat said <span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 23.3999996185303px;">“Acknowledge and face your weaknesses, but don't be immobilized by them, because some of them will be your companions until you depart this earth life.” </span>But that doesn't mean that God won't help us with even those. I don't know if I'm going to be an addict for the rest of my life, I really don't. I wish I could say that I know God will heal me of this weakness. And-- I really do know that He will-- eventually. In this life? Maybe. But if I am not healed of addiction before I die, I am promised, as are you, that we will be provided a way to make it through. Jesus bore already the weight of our burdens, and when we let Him carry it, when we yoke with Him, we can make it through anything.<br />
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Some of my favorite verses of scripture are found in <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/mosiah/24.14?lang=eng" target="_blank">Mosiah 24</a>:<br />
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<div class="chunked" id="para12" style="background: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.00784314); border: 0px; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" uri="/scriptures/bofm/mosiah/24.13">
<a class="bookmark-anchor dontHighlight" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #486fae; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </a><span class="verse" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px 1px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="chunk hl-id-76927049" id="chunk120000" node="120000" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="0">13 </span></span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120001" node="120001" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="1">And </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120002" node="120002" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="2">it </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120003" node="120003" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="3">came</span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120004" node="120004" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="4"> to </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120005" node="120005" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="5">pass </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120006" node="120006" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="6">that </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120007" node="120007" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="7">the </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120008" node="120008" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="8">voice </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120009" node="120009" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="9">of </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120010" node="120010" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="10">the </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120011" node="120011" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="11">Lord </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120012" node="120012" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="12">came </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120013" node="120013" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="13">to </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120014" node="120014" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="14">them </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120015" node="120015" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="15">in </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120016" node="120016" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="16">their </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120017" node="120017" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="17">afflictions, </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120018" node="120018" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="18">saying: </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120019" node="120019" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="19">Lift </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120020" node="120020" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="20">up </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120021" node="120021" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="21">your </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120022" node="120022" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="22">heads </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120023" node="120023" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="23">and </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120024" node="120024" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="24">be </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120025" node="120025" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="25">of </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120026" node="120026" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="26">good </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120027" node="120027" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="27">comfort, </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120028" node="120028" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="28">for </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120029" node="120029" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="29">I </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120030" node="120030" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="30">know </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120031" node="120031" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="31">of </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120032" node="120032" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="32">the </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120033" node="120033" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="33">covenant </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120034" node="120034" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="34">which </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120035" node="120035" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="35">ye </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120036" node="120036" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="36">have </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120037" node="120037" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="37">made </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120038" node="120038" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="38">unto </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120039" node="120039" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="39">me; </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120040" node="120040" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="40">and </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120041" node="120041" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="41">I </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120042" node="120042" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="42">will </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120043" node="120043" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="43">covenant </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120044" node="120044" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="44">with </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120045" node="120045" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="45">my </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120046" node="120046" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="46">people </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120047" node="120047" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="47">and </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120048" node="120048" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="48">deliver </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120049" node="120049" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="49">them </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120050" node="120050" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="50">out </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120051" node="120051" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="51">of </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk120052" node="120052" paranum="12" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="52">bondage.</span></div>
<div class="highlight chunked" id="para13" style="background: rgb(254, 251, 191); border: 0px; color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" uri="/scriptures/bofm/mosiah/24.14">
<a class="bookmark-anchor dontHighlight" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #486fae; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </a><span class="verse" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px 1px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="chunk" id="chunk130000" node="130000" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="0">14 </span></span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130001" node="130001" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="1">And </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130002" node="130002" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="2">I </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130003" node="130003" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="3">will </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130004" node="130004" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="4">also </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130005" node="130005" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="5">ease </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130006" node="130006" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="6">the </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130007" node="130007" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="7">burdens</span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130008" node="130008" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="8"> which </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130009" node="130009" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="9">are </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130010" node="130010" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="10">put </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130011" node="130011" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="11">upon </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130012" node="130012" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="12">your </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130013" node="130013" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="13">shoulders, </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130014" node="130014" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="14">that </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130015" node="130015" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="15">even </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130016" node="130016" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="16">you </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130017" node="130017" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="17">cannot </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130018" node="130018" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="18">feel </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130019" node="130019" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="19">them </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130020" node="130020" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="20">upon </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130021" node="130021" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="21">your </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130022" node="130022" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="22">backs, </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130023" node="130023" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="23">even </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130024" node="130024" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="24">while </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130025" node="130025" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="25">you </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130026" node="130026" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="26">are </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130027" node="130027" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="27">in </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130028" node="130028" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="28">bondage; </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130029" node="130029" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="29">and </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130030" node="130030" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="30">this </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130031" node="130031" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="31">will </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130032" node="130032" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="32">I </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130033" node="130033" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="33">do </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130034" node="130034" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="34">that </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130035" node="130035" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="35">ye </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130036" node="130036" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="36">may </span><span class="chunk" node="130036" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="36">stan</span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130037" node="130037" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="37">d </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130038" node="130038" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="38">as </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130039" node="130039" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="39">witnesses</span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130040" node="130040" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="40"> for </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130041" node="130041" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="41">me </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130042" node="130042" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="42">hereafter, </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130043" node="130043" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="43">and </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130044" node="130044" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="44">that </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130045" node="130045" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="45">ye </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130046" node="130046" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="46">may </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130047" node="130047" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="47">know </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130048" node="130048" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="48">of </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130049" node="130049" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="49">a </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130050" node="130050" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="50">surety </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130051" node="130051" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="51">that </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130052" node="130052" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="52">I, </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130053" node="130053" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="53">the </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130054" node="130054" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="54">Lord </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130055" node="130055" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="55">God, </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130056" node="130056" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="56">do </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130057" node="130057" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="57">visit </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130058" node="130058" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="58">my </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130059" node="130059" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="59">people </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130060" node="130060" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="60">in </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130061" node="130061" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="61">their </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130062" node="130062" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="62">afflictions</span><span class="chunk" id="chunk130063" node="130063" paranum="13" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="63">.</span></div>
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<a class="bookmark-anchor dontHighlight" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="15" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #486fae; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </a><span class="verse" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px 1px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="chunk" id="chunk140000" node="140000" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="0">15 </span></span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140001" node="140001" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="1">And </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140002" node="140002" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="2">now </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140003" node="140003" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="3">it </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140004" node="140004" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="4">came </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140005" node="140005" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="5">to </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140006" node="140006" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="6">pass </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140007" node="140007" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="7">that </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140008" node="140008" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="8">the </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140009" node="140009" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="9">burdens </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140010" node="140010" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="10">which </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140011" node="140011" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="11">were </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140012" node="140012" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="12">laid </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140013" node="140013" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="13">upon </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140014" node="140014" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="14">Alma </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140015" node="140015" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="15">and </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140016" node="140016" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="16">his </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140017" node="140017" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="17">brethren </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140018" node="140018" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="18">were </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140019" node="140019" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="19">made </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140020" node="140020" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="20">light; </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140021" node="140021" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="21">yea, </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140022" node="140022" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="22">the </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140023" node="140023" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="23">Lord </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140024" node="140024" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="24">did </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140025" node="140025" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="25">strengthen</span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140026" node="140026" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="26"> them </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140027" node="140027" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="27">that </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140028" node="140028" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="28">they </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140029" node="140029" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="29">could </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140030" node="140030" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="30">bear </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140031" node="140031" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="31">up </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140032" node="140032" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="32">their </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140033" node="140033" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="33">burdens</span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140034" node="140034" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="34"><br />with </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140035" node="140035" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="35">ease,</span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140036" node="140036" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="36">and </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140037" node="140037" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="37">they </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140038" node="140038" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="38">did </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140039" node="140039" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="39">submit </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140040" node="140040" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="40">cheerfully </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140041" node="140041" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="41">and </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140042" node="140042" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="42">with </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140043" node="140043" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="43">patience</span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140044" node="140044" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="44"> to </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140045" node="140045" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="45">all </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140046" node="140046" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="46">the </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140047" node="140047" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="47">will </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140048" node="140048" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="48">of </span><span class="chunk" id="chunk140049" node="140049" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="49">the </span><span class="chunk hl-id-76927049" id="chunk140050" node="140050" paranum="14" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" wrapper="50">Lord.</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: large; line-height: normal;">I love it because it's a dose of reality. It's like, hey, you know what, you may still have these rotten circumstances to live in (the people referred to in the above verses are essentially slaves), but as a result of your gratitude and faith, I'll make your circumstances feel less burdensome. They're still there, and it's still rough, but I'll make it so easy you can bear up your burdens with ease. Trust me. I don't always take the circumstance away, but I will always reward your faith and prayers. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: large; line-height: normal;">And so I go. I go forward knowing that if I'm an addict till I die, God will help me as carry the weight of addiction as long as I trust Him. I go forward knowing that if it's His will for me to become organized (and I feel that it is), then, according to my faith and work, I will become organized. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: large; line-height: normal;">It's a beautiful thing to have so much access to so much Truth.<br /><br />(you guys, I don't know how this font changed color and size, and I don't know how to fix it.)</span></div>
Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-643574697784089912014-11-15T00:12:00.001-07:002014-11-15T00:12:49.686-07:00Super Power of ChoiceIt was a long day in a long week, yesterday. This week has really lagged. The other weeks in this year have zoomed by, but this week- it feels like it should have been over a while ago.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I was tired. I was also exhausted. Marsha had been tapping my shoulder relentlessly all week long. How do you react when someone taps you 8 or 9 times consecutively? It seriously gets annoying real fast. But Marsha- she had been tapping and tapping and tapping. I would walk away, and she'd follow. <i>Tap, tap, tap.</i> I'd tell her to go away, and she would for a moment, but then the next moment- <i>tap, tap, tap. </i>I'd punch her in the throat and she would fall to the ground, but just when I'd forgotten about that- <i>tap, tap, tap.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
MARSHA/ADDICTION/TEMPTATION, LEAVE ME ALONE! What do I have to do to get rid of you?!<br />
<br />
I was starting to give notice her whispers:<br />
<i>I can take you to freedom and bliss. </i><br />
<i>You have been so stressed out; you deserve a break.</i><br />
<i>It's not fair that you have to keep being single.</i><br />
<i>Just once more won't hurt.</i><br />
<i>You've already made it 10 weeks; longer than ever this whole year. Your bishop will still see this as progress.</i><br />
<i>It </i>is<i> progress, even if you give in tonight.</i><br />
<i>You know you want to.</i><br />
<i>You can repent later.</i><br />
<i>You're an addict. This is what addicts do.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
On and on she went. I got so tired of ignoring her and fighting her. So I listened. I agreed with some of the lies. Some, I rejected right off. I listened as I typed in something into my search bar that I figured the filter would miss. I listened as I found something that looked like what I might be interested in. I listened as I clicked "play." I listened as I skipped past the boring parts. I listened as I shook my head at myself in disbelief and disappointment. But, I wasn't really listening at all. I was ignoring the truths that were also being whispered to me.<br />
<br />
<i>You don't need this.</i><br />
<i>This is terrible.</i><br />
<i>This isn't you.</i><br />
<i>I hate this stuff. Why am I doing this?</i><br />
<i>You can choose. You are choosing.</i><br />
<i>This is your choice.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
But then I perked up. <i>My choice?</i> If I had the power to choose here, then why was I choosing destruction? Why was I choosing to step away from my safe place, from my God? If the power to choose was mine, why was I choosing <i>this?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
So I shut the computer, got off the couch, and walked out of the room. Even as I walked away, I scrambled for excuses, just barely subconsciously. Why? Why had I made this choice?!<br />
<i>It's the addiction</i><br />
<i>I was just so tired.</i><br />
<i>It's been such a long time!</i><br />
<i>I've been under a lot of stress. </i><br />
<i>It's not fair.</i><br />
But every excuse was unsatisfying. I couldn't buy any of them, so I'd scramble for one I could buy. But the next one was just as hollow, so I searched for a better one. Nothing was working. Nothing was justifying my choices. Nothing I could think of was going to save me from my decisions, or erase them. And I was sorta hunched over as I was searching for a justifiable reason, but I suddenly stood straight and said to myself, <i>Some time, I have got to accept that it was my choice. It wasn't the addiction, or my exhaustion, or my circumstances. It was the choice I deliberately made.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Instantly, my mind relaxed. I had released it from its fruitless mission of finding an acceptable excuse. And I realized that I have the power, here. The power I have is in the choices I have. I have the power to choose, at any given moment, and that is a power that is an inalienable gift from God. There was no external force pressing down the letters on my keyboard; no, that was me. I did that. I <i>chose that.</i> My judgement was clouded- yes. My judgement was worsened by exhaustion and addiction and circumstance- yes. But, never, at any time in my entire life, have I lost total ability to choose, and last night was no exception.<br />
<br />
This recovery business is a hard lot. It is <i>so hard</i> to be bombarded every day all the dang time with pictures and phrases and images and Marsha tapping <b style="font-style: italic;">all day long, </b>everywhere I look! Reminders all over the place, from a pornographic truck window decal to something as innocent as a couple holding hands. Triggers are practically the air I breathe. But even that's not an excuse, and even then, I always have a choice.<br />
<br />
Oh, how easy it would be to yield to the enticings of my flesh! Oh, how desirable it appears to rush back to my former ways of so easily bending to Addiction's demands! And, sometimes, oh, what I would give to be able to truly justify the sins I occasionally miss. Sometimes, I would really like to have my cake and devour it, too, at will. Sometimes, honestly, I would like to change the rules, or my commitment to them, so I could dabble in the darkness that compels me to enter. How easy, my friend, how easy it would be to press "play" a hundred more times, shut out the world, and tune in to the pleasure that Marsha tells me will heal my heart.<br />
<br />
But, I cannot, for I know that Marsha is a liar.<br />
<br />
My choices last night have not weighed me down in shame. I feel like I should maybe clarify (though it's nunya biznez) that what I chose to watch was a television show that some in this world would quickly define as non-pornography. And it wasn't a "porn video," as far as what we think of those as. And I'm not even calling it a slip. But it was a rotten choice, and it was <i>my choice. </i>a choice that <i>I made.</i> And it was crap. Trash. Despicable, A terrible choice, to be sure. I'm going to tell you that owning it as a choice - MY choice - has been liberating. Identifying it as a choice means that I take accountability (which feels really good!!) and it also means that I separate it from my worth. It was a choice, not a whole-character definition. Also, it means that in the future, I can make better choices- because I have that power.<br />
<br />
While I am not shaming myself, I am disappointed in myself on a grand scale. How could I make a choice that I know separates me from Jesus? I know better than this; I really do. I was swept up in a moment of weakness, and I made a mistake. I regret the mistake. But I will not dwell in it. Forsaking a sin means leaving it alone. I'm going to leave this one alone. I'm going to repent and come out of it, and leave it there. I don't want to carry it with me. I don't want to hold it over my head. I just want to leave it there and take God's hand instead. I'm sorry I made this mistake, and I wish I hadn't. I'm also so grateful that because of the Atonement, I can make another choice. I can choose to be made new, and to progress. I can choose to learn from this and rise as quickly as I can. And that is my choice, now. My choices last night were very bad choices, but I don't have to let that propel me into a series of further poor choices like I would have in the recent past. I can make the good choice and turn back to God.<br />
<br />What a gift it is to choose! I choose repentance. I choose eternity. I choose hope, forgiveness, and accepting the grace of my Jesus.<br /><br />Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-45486233738589672302014-10-27T22:37:00.000-06:002014-10-27T22:45:39.255-06:00I Would Take Her to a Safe Place and Tell Her TruthsI had a therapy appointment today. I love my therapist, which I have mentioned before. I love having a therapist- a good one.<br />
<br />
Something interesting and a little shocking happened yesterday. I haven't really spoken much about my marriage here, as it's not the place. And yet, today, it's the place.<br />
<br />
My marriage was traumatic. Yes. My poor brain and heart and soul experience much trauma while in that marriage. While I was in it, I all the time made excuses for my husband's behavior.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I had reason to go to the very apartment complex my ex and I lived in for over half of our marriage till the end of it. The same building, even. Just a few doors down. I haven't really needed to be in that area of town since my ex and his girlfriend moved out of our apartment (they'd moved in shortly after I'd moved out) after our divorce. That's been 7 years now. So, as I turned onto the street of the apartment complex, the flashbacks blindsided me. Sudden, abrupt, simultaneous memories came at my face like fiery arrows in a battle in which I was the only one on my side. Surprised, my body even reacted, and I took in a sharp breath, tightened my body, and thrust my head to the headrest as if to back away from the attacks.<br />
<br />
<i>There's the park where I would take my baby in the middle of the night to get away from my husband after he'd been yelling at me or the baby over something. </i>And suddenly, I was there, in the cold, sitting on the swing and sobbing, and hoping against hope that he would wonder where I'd gone, and come find me. Hoping against hope that he would find me and say, "oh, baby, I'm so sorry for saying those mean things. I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry I hurt you. Please come home." Hoping against hope that I wasn't the person he treated me as. I would sit there with my baby, crying and thinking my husband was maybe wrong for screaming those poison words at me- at her, even- but also knowing that it would be I who would apologize. I used to escape to that park frequently when I felt afraid or betrayed by my husband and couldn't talk to him about it (because he yelled more when I did and turned it around on me, every time).<br />
<br />
<i>There's the little softball field where he screamed at me in front of his work friends, in front of his girlfriend, in front of our kids. </i>And suddenly, I was there, unable to hold back the tears in front of his softball teammates as the kids and I cried and walked back home. Suddenly, I felt it all again.<br />
<br />
<i>Here's where I slid on the ice and spun into a parked car</i>. And suddenly, I was in the living room, telling him what had happened, and he was yelling before even asking if the kids and I were okay.<br />
<br />
<i>There's the apartment.</i> Okay, too many horrible memories to even list that happened in that 2 bedroom itty bitty space. But dozens of them flew at me last night. It was suffocating.<br />
<br />
I was surprised. I didn't expect that to happen, at all. I thought I was over it! I thought I was over all the marital strife, over him, over the hell of being his wife that ended 7.5 years ago. I was so annoyed that the memories would affect me that way. I cried and cried on the drive home, and I was annoyed about that, too. Why? Why should it still hurt? I don't live there anymore. I don't love him anymore. I don't want him to be a good husband to me anymore.<br />
<br />
I explained it all to my therapist and she explained trauma to me. She told me I was having flashbacks, and said that it indicated that I was in a healthy place.<br />
<br />
Wait, what?<br />
<br />
Apparently, feeling and acknowledging pain is healthy. OH YEAH! <a href="http://step-4.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-dont-do-this-because-i-enjoy-it-i-do.html" target="_blank">Marsha </a>thrives when I don't acknowledge pain, after all.<br />
<br />
So, we talked more about trauma, and what happens to our neurons during certain experiences which makes those experiences traumatic, and we talked more about pain. And I began to understand.<br />
<br />
I'm still going to explore this more. I want to understand why God made us humans this way. I want to know what is the purpose in making our brains so that they experience trauma, and pain of an event or events years after they occurred. Because, He did that on purpose. He made our brains work that way for a reason, and I want to find the spiritual reason behind <i>my</i> trauma, and <i>my</i> pain.<br />
<br />
I said, "But if I get my finger burned 7 years ago in a park at night, it wouldn't still hurt." and she said, "But, if someone held an iron to your skin and it burned through all the layers of your skin, through all your nerves, your skin might heal, but you'd have scars and nerve damage for maybe the rest of your life. And would you say to someone with that kind of wound, 'you shouldn't still feel that?'"<br />
<br />
Well, no. Oh.<br />
<br />
Then she suggested we visit those swings. What were my thoughts on those swings? What were the lies that I were believing as truths while I sat on the swing at the park at midnight? What were the lies my husband was telling me by his behavior toward me? I gave her a list.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I'm not good enough</li>
<li>Not a good enough mom</li>
<li>Not a good enough wife</li>
<li>A burden on my husband</li>
<li>Stuck with my husband because I chose him</li>
<li>Not worth an apology</li>
<li>Not worth respect</li>
<li>Worthless</li>
<li>Not worth being heard</li>
</ul>
<div>
That's a portion of the list. And do you know what she did? She said, "What would you do if someone told your daughter, 'You're not good enough. You're nothing but a burden. You're not worth apologizing to. I'm stuck with you now, so you have to do all the things I want. You're worthless.'?" Well, I instantly became furious at the very idea of someone telling my sweet daughter those awful lies. I was angry beyond description at the hypothetical loser telling my daughter those horrible things. I told her, with tearful eyes, "I would be so angry at whoever would tell my child that. And I would take my daughter to a safe place and tell her truths."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
How I would so desperately try to undo the lies she'd been told! How I would enfold her and guide her to a safe and quiet room, and tell the truths about her, and tell her that the things she was told were not about her at all, but about the person saying them. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And my therapist repeated softly, "I would take her to a safe place and tell her truths." And it hit me then that there were truths -- <i>are</i> truths -- to my ex's lies. And not only was he simply wrong, but the very opposite were truths! I was worth respect. I was worth an apology! I was not a burden on my husband, but a blessing to him. Not worthless; priceless. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What if I'd known then? What if I could go to the me on the swings in the night and tell her truths? Is my worth any less than the worth of my daughter? Does God love me any less than I love my daughter? <i>Impossible.</i> He is God. I am mortal and have a finite vision. And you know what? I can take my own self to a safe place, and listen to Him tell me truths. And He will. He will because I am His daughter, and He created me to have pain and trauma, so He knows about my pain and trauma, and He can heal me. He wants to. He wants to heal me with His truths- the truths about me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now, as addicts, we tend to easily believe the lies. We believe we're not worth it. I mean, we really, legitimately <i>believe</i> that, don't we? We believe it so much that we know it to be true! Most especially in our most active times of indulging in our addictions. And our addictions, and our ease in "allowing" them, reinforce what we think we know to be true. In our darkest addicted points, we can see no other possibility of truth, can we? Just like when I look back to the me-on-the-swings, I remember that I just couldn't have even begun to believe that it was my husband who was wrong, not me. I couldn't have begun to believe that I had worth in that marriage or worth at all. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I think we could all benefit, friends, from going to our me-on-the-swings (and don't we all have one?), and leading her or him to a safe place, and telling her or him truths. Telling her or him the truths that God tells us. As addicts, most (all, I think) of us have several moments in our pasts with people who were supposed to love us, who maybe even did love us, but who taught us and reinforced to us that we are worthless. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was a lie. It is a lie created by Satan. Don't you believe it! Oh, go back to your swing-self and tell him or her right there that it is a lie! And that you don't have to believe it anymore. Go back to those times and give yourself permission to identify those things as lies, and then also tell yourself the truths. We wouldn't be addicts if we weren't running from stuff and hiding. Turns out the things we run from are all lies. "I can't do that." lie. "It's too hard." lie. "I'm worthless." lie. "God doesn't care about me." lie. "No one cares about me." lie. "I can't do anything right." "I am a horrible person." "I don't deserve to live." "What's the point? I'm not good enough." Lies, lies, lies! "I can't do this by myself." Well, that's true, but not in the way we tell it to ourselves.</div>
<div>
<br />
How interesting that addiction is all based on lies. I think that's true. <a href="http://step-4.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-lies-that-sustain-her.html" target="_blank">My addiction is fed by and sustained by lies</a>. If I believed the truths all the time, I would be free all the time. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
John 8:32-- And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. </div>
Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-3839927746276951992014-10-15T20:26:00.001-06:002014-10-15T20:55:52.866-06:00Not a PriorityI am surrounded by awesome, supportive, loving, brilliant people. It's really amazing. I'm humbled and inspired, often, by the people around me and their wisdom.<br />
<br />
So one of these such people said something to a group the other week that made a permanent imprint in my mind. She was talking about how she reads her scriptures, and how she used to say she didn't have time for scriptures, but then she changed "I don't have time" to "It's not a priority." And then she faces the truth of it all.<br />
<br />
It was very meaningful to me. Because I often rush through my scriptures because I don't have the time. But, really, that's not it at all, is it? No, it's really that I'm not making it a priority. If it was a priority, I would make sure to make adequate time each day for study.<br />
<br />
So, I've been trying to change every "I don't have time" to "It's not a priority." This has been embarrassing and comforting. Oh, man, I don't have time for a quality FHE. Oh, wait! No. It's not a priority. Quality FHE is not a priority, and I have to face that truth.<br />
<br />
Well, I just don't have time to help my kids with homework.<br />
WRONG. It's not a priority. Something else is a bigger priority.<br />
<br />
Hmm, I don't have time to shower today.<br />
WRONG. Just not a priority.<br />
<br />
But. Guess what else? While it makes me more accountable, it also takes off the pressure. One day last week, I was busy. I had work, and grocery shopping, and babysitting for my sister, and other important things. Just before my sister arrived to drop off her child, I looked at my laundry that I hadn't yet done and sighed. I had wanted to get it all out of the living room and hallway before my sister got there. I was tempted to believe that because my laundry wasn't done, I was a bad person. I lamented with great, shameful, anxious regret, "I didn't have the time."<br />
<br />
And then came the whisper I'd been telling myself, "no, it wasn't a priority."<br />
<br />
I smiled. The laundry wasn't a priority that day. And do you know why? It's because work was a priority. Dinner was a priority. Exercise with my children was a priority. Family scriptures and prayer was a priority. Personal spiritual study was a priority. Babysitting was a priority. And with all those priorities, I literally couldn't have fit in laundry. Not without having sacrificed one of my other priorities that day. For the first time in my life, I felt grateful that I failed to do a chore. Everything else I'd done was more important.<br />
<br />
And so I instantly forgave myself for neglecting the laundry. It wasn't a priority, and that was okay. And not just okay, but, for that day, it was <i>good</i>.<br />
<br />
Now, when I'm willing to admit that finishing Step 10 hasn't been a priority, I'll re-prioritize and get back on track. :)Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-21933844442747438492014-10-07T23:02:00.003-06:002014-10-07T23:02:42.998-06:00One At a TimeIt's true what they say, you know. You can't eat an elephant in one bite.<br />
<br />
General Conference was a whirlwind of awesome for me, as it usually is. In past years, Conference has been both uplifting but also depressing, and served as a reminder of how much I suck, how much I'm not doing, how much farther I have to go. Often, I would let it discourage me.<br />
<br />
Not this time. Because I know that I can do all things through Christ, and that Christ actually doesn't expect me to do all things at once, not even with Him.<br />
<br />
I was especially touched and inspired by Elder Jorg Klebingat's talk. The fact that I was inspired by his talk is a mark of progress all on its own! He touched very much on many things that I am just not doing. Take accountability for your spiritual well-being, he said. Take accountability for your physical well-being, he said. Stop being selectively obedient. Don't expect the world to cheer you on. Forgive everyone everything all the time- I am never exempt from this commandment! (Instantly, I want to say, "but, so-and-so is a genuine jerk," "but, I shouldn't be treated like he treats me," etc. But I know I am not exempt!). Acknowledge and face weaknesses but don't become immobilized by them (!!!). On and on he talked, and I was racing to write down everything I wanted to remember- which was basically his whole talk. His talk wasn't exceptionally spiritual, I guess, but it touched me very deeply, spiritually.<br />
<br />
During his talk, in addition to taking notes, I was also making a family plan. I was writing down what our next FHE would entail, which were family goals for all the improvements I wanted to make based on this talk (and other subsequent talks).<br /><br />Here's my FHE plan, taken from my notes:<br /><u>FHE</u><br />
<ul>
<li>exercise plan</li>
<li>meal plan</li>
<li>save money plan</li>
<li>help the poor and elderly plan</li>
<li>spiritual/physical preparedness</li>
<li>indexing</li>
</ul>
<div>
I was fully intending to go over plans for each of these with my kids for FHE. And we were goign to make all these changes right away. We were going to dive right into daily healthy eating, exercising, helping out the less-fortunate, the difference and connection between spiritual and physical preparedness.... I was planning to make all these calendars for our health plans and service plans, and we were going to do all the things every day, dangit. Also, a chore plan was in the mix, which would certainly magically turn my home into Martha Stewart's. It was all going to work. Because I can do all things through Christ! And He will help me with my plans! And I have to do all these things! And I will, for sure I will! I even wrote next to my FHE plan: "God will guide!!!" as a reminder to myself to not become scared or overwhelmed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So after conference on Sunday, my family gathered at our parents' and had dinner and visiting. I decided to ask my dad and brothers for a blessing to help me keep all my PLANS! organized and to help me stay motivated. They were happy to comply. My dad gave me a wonderful blessing and I wish I'd have written down all that he said, but, I didn't.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However, one thing he said jolted a switch in my brain and the light it turned on seared my memory. "Take it one at a time."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
WHAT?!? ONE AT A TIME?!?!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Whatever. Like I'm really supposed to obey the commandments one at a time? Hey, don't mind me while I steal from my neighbors- right now I'm working on "thou shalt not commit adultery." No. I can't do this one at a time. It's now or never; all or nothing. I have to eat well and exercise always and help all the poor all around me and do family history and save money- I have to do it all <i>now, </i>and I can because it's a commandment. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But, "one at a time" resounded. It was a fadeless echo in the newly lighted room in my mind. <i>One at a time, One at a time.</i> I argued with it. I tried to dismiss it. But the more I thought about it (it was a fadeless echo, remember? I couldn't <i>not</i> think about it), the more I realized it was actually from Heavenly Father, and that I just can't handle all the changes all at once. I mean- duh. I know this. I just forgot. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, I sorta compromised. I decided that taking care of my body is fundamental. I can be of so much more use if I am healthy and energetic! So, I cut down my FHE plan to an exercise plan and a meal plan. And these plans are not elaborate by any means. They are easy. They are easy changes, but definitely progressive in nature, and they will do us good if/when we stick to them. We're doing simple exercises three times a week, and taking out a lot of junk food. That's it. No crazy diets. No strenuous exercise expectations. Something we can do. I'm just focusing on the actual action of the change at this point- the habit of persistence.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Like Emerson said, </div>
<br />
<h1 class="quoteText" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">
“That which we persist in doing becomes easier to do, not that the nature of the thing has changed but that our power to do has increased.”</h1>
<div>
And when we have made these things habits, we will focus more on how this family will help the poor and elderly. Then we will focus on saving money. Or, maybe the other way around. I don't know. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Side note; I'm not saying this means I <i>won't</i> help the less-fortunate while I'm focusing on physical health. I can and I will when I can. It's just not going to be a primary focus at this time. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Because, one at a time is what I was advised. By God. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This means that I have to be okay with slower progression in other areas. You know? That's the hardest thing about it. While I'm getting better at putting good stuff in my body, my house will still be disorganized. And I just have to be okay with that. I believe that the better I do, the better I'll do. By improving one area, other areas will follow suit. And I gotta trust the process, trust my God, and be patient and faithful. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Here's hopin'. </div>
Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-62268761966298737002014-09-26T22:51:00.000-06:002014-09-26T23:17:14.598-06:00A Flippin' Miraculous TransformationThe other day, I found a poem I wrote in 2011. I had no recollection of writing the poem. I read it and my jaw dropped, for many reasons. One, it's really weird that I remember nothing of it. Second, I have <i>almost</i> forgotten what it's like to be in that place. Third, it was a blaring indicator of my progress; the miracle of me.<br />
<br />
I share now the poem with you:<br />
<br />
Lucky Her<br />
<br />
"She killed herself," she whispered<br />
Of her friend who died last night.<br />
Then with frosted lenses, she said, "no,<br />
"Depression killed her.<br />
"She died from depression."<br />
When I should have been sad for <i>her,</i><br />
I was jealous of her friend<br />
Because I have to wake tomorrow<br />
And go to work<br />
Carrying my sins from place to place<br />
Sleepless<br />
Senseless<br />
But that girl who died last night-<br />
She's free.<br />
She'll never choose wrong again.<br />
<br />
8.10.11<br />
<br />
Three years ago. That came out of my brain and heart and soul three years ago.<br />
<br />
I beat myself up frequently for taking so long to "recover." It's so difficult for me to see day-to-day progress. But finding this reminded me of something I'd almost forgotten: the imprisoning darkness and despair of sin-bred hopelessness. I'd almost forgotten, but I remember now. I felt this way frequently. I'd be better off dead. My kids deserved a righteous mother. I'm a disgrace to my family. I'm a burden to the world. Hopeless.<br />
<br />
I was blind to hope.<br />
<br />
I want to go back to myself then and give me a hug and say, "don't you worry! You matter. Jesus will rescue you. There is hope in abundance all around you! Accept the hope. Forgive yourself. Accept yourself. I love you."<br />
<br />
Three years ago, I was so excited to make it to 30 days of abstinence. In 2011, I think I accomplished that twice. Maybe once. It's a different world now.<br />
<br />
I do think, still, that my progress has been slow. Many addicts in recovery have reached their abstinence and recovery goals by this point, by a long shot. But, I can't deny the progress. I am surrounded by light and hope! I am surrounded by grace and mercy! And I see that and know that, every day, now. I can't remember the last time I really wanted to escape addiction by escaping life.<br />
<br />
The Addiction Recovery Program is a miracle. Using it, Jesus has made <i>me</i> a miracle. Using it, I have come to know my Savior better, and His astonishing, dumbfounding, propelling love for me. For years, I was trying so hard to recover on my own because it never really occurred to me that I <i>couldn't</i> recover on my own. And then I found this program, where Step 1 is, basically, "I can't recover on my own." The program gave me the tools I needed to understand addiction, understand the Atonement, understand grace, and understand myself. The weekly meetings are a constant feed of hope and encouragement. Yeah, sure, it's been a long time and I <i>still</i> slip! I used to believe that my slow progress meant I'm this horrible person who just can't get it right, but do you know what it really means? It really means that <i>Jesus wants me to recover. Jesus wants to heal me.</i> Chance after chance after chance, He gives me. Forever. All the while, He's there, leading and guiding and whispering beautiful truths and comforts, and slowly I let His words sink in and allow myself to believe them. "I love you. You are worthy of recovery. You matter. You are important. I want you with me. You are not your addiction. I'm here. I came to free you. Please, Stephanie, let me free you."<br />
<br />
I may not have come a long way since yesterday, and I may be taking longer than your regular addict to break free, but, dang, look at that poem from 2011, and look at me now. Leaps and bounds. That was a lifetime ago. I don't subscribe to that philosophy anymore, the philosophy of hopelessness. I know better, now. I'm different. Jesus has changed my character. This, He has done for me:<br />
<br />
"The Lord works from the inside out. The world works from the outside in. The world would take people out of the slums. Christ takes the slums out of people, and then they take themselves out of the slums. The world would mold men by changing their environment. Christ changes men, who then change their environment. The world would shape human behavior, but Christ can change human nature." (President Ezra Taft Benson)<br />
<br />
He has changed my very nature, my friends, and I know He will continue to do so as I allow Him to. I am so changed that I cannot fathom ever again believing that I do not have access to hope, forgiveness, grace and mercy. I know better because He has taught me personally.<br />
<br />
My Brother, my Savior, my Jesus has fetched me out of the darkness and He is nursing me back to health. My eyes are still adjusting to the light, and so He gives it to me bit my bit. He has snatched me out of the dark forests of fear where wolves hunt and devour. I was His lost sheep that strayed from the 99, and He came after me. I think I am finally tired of running from Him. I think I am finally willing and ready to follow Him back to the fold. Every step. No matter how long it takes. No matter how rocky the path. I know that I can do all things through Him who gives me strength. I know that He is always here for me, with me, pleading for me and with me, weeping for me and with me, always <i>always</i> in my reach.<br />
<br />
My new focus for recovery is simply trusting Him. It is no longer abstinence. Abstinence will be a natural reward of trusting my Redeemer.<br />
<br />
How I love Him! The very thought of His blessed name fills my heart up with glorious sweetness and gratitude. I am His, and so I rest, and hope, in Him.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-40484888492702340772014-09-21T00:56:00.001-06:002014-09-21T00:56:22.105-06:00Everyone Except MeI once heard an ARP facilitator state that addicts commonly suffer from "terminal uniqueness." I think it's an AA-coined term, and it's interesting to me, because I know I've certainly suffered from many overdoses of uniqueness. Some of the concepts that I actually believe in moments of excessive uniqueness are, "<i>I</i> deserve this because . . . " "<i>My</i> situation is different because . . ." "I'm excused because . . ." "My bad choice in this scenario was made out of circumstantial duress, and no one else could ever really get it. Anyone in this situation would have made this choice."<br />
<br />
Just as damaging as the "I'm excused because I'm special" beliefs, are the "everyone except for me" beliefs.<br />
<br />
When I was in Young Women, several Young Women leaders would say things like, "I love each and every one of you." <i>Immediately,</i> I would think and believe, "everyone except me." How could she love me? She doesn't even know me. I'm not as cool as the other girls. She's not talking about me when she says that, but for sure, <i>everyone else.</i> I would neatly and abruptly excuse myself from <i>all</i> positive group statements. "Everyone is welcome to my pool party," meant, clearly, "everyone except Stephanie." "You have all taught me something," meant, "Everyone here except Stephanie has taught me something." "You're all beautiful," <i>except Stephanie. </i>"You're all talented." <i>except Stephanie.</i> "You have something to offer this world," <i>except, clearly, Stephanie.</i> This didn't just happen in YW, of course, but everywhere a general statement was made. Seminary. Sacrament Meeting. Family Home Evening. The scriptures. General Conference. Everyone except me.<br />
<br />
I even believed that Jesus atoned for everyone except me. My sins were too bad. He didn't mean me, ever. I even figured that when He was suffering in the Garden, He just didn't complete it for me because it wasn't worth it.<br />
<br />
<i>How arrogant!! </i>If I'd only known how arrogant I was! How absurd and unkind!<br />
<br />
But then one day, we had a substitute seminary teacher. Her name was Sister Woolstenhulme, and I really liked her. She was lively and hilarious, and seemed to really understand teenage angst. Well, on this day, she was reaching me on a personal level.<br />
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"Do you ever feel like <i>no one</i> gets it?" she asked.<br />Well, yeah.<br />"I mean, no one could really understand you."<br />yeah.<br />"No one has it as bad as you."<br />I KNOW!<br />"No one besides you has ever experienced the hardships you have."<br />Seriously. It's so sad.<br />"Nobody gets it, right? <i>Everybody else</i> has this great life and they have no idea you're even there."<br />Sing it, sister.<br />"Do you ever feel totally ignored?"<br />yep.<br />"Do you ever feel abandoned?"<br />Yes.<br />"Aren't you just . . . so . . . totally alone? Everyone else around you has these great gifts, everyone else around you is smothered in love, but not you? Or that Jesus couldn't have suffered for you because your sins were too terrible?"<br />OH MY GOSH, YES! (I was near tears, now.)<br />"Well, listen carefully."<br />I was.<br />"STOP IT."<br />Wait. What?<br />"Who do you think you are? You're not that special."<br /><br />She talked on, but all I heard was, "You're not that special," over and over in my mind. I became fully aware in that moment that by excluding myself, I was actually making myself <i>more</i> special than everyone else. <i>I </i>was the special one, if no-one-but-me was true. I was, in essence, putting myself above all the other people under the pretense that I was putting myself beneath them. I was setting myself apart in a way that no one had given me permission to do. I was making myself the uniquest one of all. Who did I think I was? I <i>wasn't</i> that special!<br /><br />
From that day, I started trying to accept that Jesus' sacrifice was for me, too. Honestly, I still struggle with accepting blanket statements of love, but now that I'm older, it's easier. I love each of my primary kids, I truly do. Even if I don't know them well, I love them so much. So I try to accept group compliments as self compliments, now.<br />
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This is not to say I do not suffer from terminal uniqueness, because I do. Sometimes, I feel like my addiction makes me special. I feel like being an addict means I have certain entitlements (please). I sometimes feel like I was just the <i>special</i> kind of person to <i>need</i> a sexual addiction in order to learn to love and depend on the Savior (please, like I'm so dang pure and good and righteous without it that I needed something extra sinful in order to qualify me for the Atonement). I sometimes feel like I get a pass on normal obligations because, darn it, addiction recovery is hard. I sometimes feel like I'm the sickest of the sick (read: the uniquest of the sick), the most challenged recoverer yet. Every addict except for me has an easier time recovering. (gag.)<br />
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Even though I still take upon myself extra privileges and excuses just because I'm a addict, I have learned and am learning that I am covered by the grace of our Savior; that He suffered for all and for me; that He loves all and me with a perfect, infinite, powerful love, because I'm not so special that He would come for the <i>entire world,</i> except Stephanie. No, I'm just exactly special enough. I'm His. I have been redeemed. Me. You. Everyone <i>including</i> Stephanie. Oh, how He loves me.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-6442961501121451112014-08-26T10:21:00.000-06:002014-08-26T10:40:23.975-06:00AimlessI'm trying so hard not to care so much about what others think of me. YES, I FAIL! I fail, okay? Dear everyone in all the world everywhere, I FAIL! I have weaknesses and addictions and failures every day of my life. I've had weaknesses and addictions and failures my whole life. And I will continue to have them.<br />
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It's weird how every slip shocks me. I mean, I've had this pornography/masturbation addiction for so many years- why is it a surprise? I always think, <i>how did that happen? I can't believe that happened.</i> It feels like each slip blindsides me and I don't know where it came from. It's especially shocking on the days I have worked so hard spiritually. Like the days I had a wonderful experience at church or the temple, or when I've tried so hard to make a spiritual plan and have done visiting teaching and made an extra effort in my scripture study and made an extra effort in family and personal prayers. It's a bigger shock when I slip those days. But it shouldn't be. I can't perform myself out of addiction anymore than I can earn myself a place in God's kingdom. I can do all the right things for days and weeks and months, and still, if I'm hanging on to control of my life, I will fail. I will fall. I will slip.<br />
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I'm slipping pretty steadily every 4-6 weeks these days. I'm trying to rationalize: at least it's not every few days like it used to be. At least it's not every 2 weeks like it was for a really long time. I'm also trying to beat myself up: It's been so long. I have been fighting this so long- what is the matter with me? I've been attending ARP meetings for over three years, keeping this blog for longer, confessing to bishops for 17 years, been trying to "quit" for 19 years. Most my life. It's overwhelming.<br />
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How is it possible I don't get it yet? How is it possible this addiction is so much stronger than I am?<br />
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That's just it. I'm still trying to be the one to save me. I'm still trying to quit. I'm still trying to write my own story, to decide my own future, to lead my own life. I'm still trying to best addiction, but addiction IS stronger than the natural man/woman, and I am no better than anyone and I <i>am not strong enough to conquer.</i> I keep trying to be. I want to be. I want to do this alone.<br />
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But, if I let Jesus write my story, it will be a far more beautiful, glorious story than what I could ever write on my own. He offers to take the pen daily, and I selfishly grip it daily, as if to surrender it would be to surrender my freedom, when in reality it would give me so much more.<br />
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I'm so afraid to expose myself as a fraud. I do own my weaknesses but I own them in a very calculated way, so that even as I own them, I can appear "good." I own my weaknesses really so that no one else can hurt me with them. And I don't own them all. Sometimes my therapist calls me out on weaknesses that I haven't had a chance to own yet, and that makes me so . . . scared. It feels like exposure and I am terrified of exposure when I'm not the one to expose myself.<br />
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I sometimes pride myself about being "real," but there's nothing real about me. I'm terrified of being found out. I'm open to sharing only that which I am open to sharing- which is maybe a lot, but even in my sharing, I'm careful to not expose the most flawed parts of me. Because I would just die if someone were to see me as a regular human being.<br />
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The thing is, I am not simply weak. My weaknesses aren't all simply weaknesses. Many of them are rebellions. Many are straight up sins. Many are really horrible characteristics. Like, how manipulative I can be (I shudder as I write that). Or how I play the victim to get something my way. Ugh. Gross. Or how I would rather scroll through Facebook than pay attention to my angel kids. Or how I have evil wishes for people who hate me.<br />
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I am not as good as I portray myself to be. I am far more human than I want to admit. Step 1. Admit that you, of yourself, are powerless to overcome your addiction and that your life has become unmanageable. No. I will not admit that I am powerless. I will not admit that I can't do this. I am too afraid to admit that it's beyond my control, beyond my capacity to overcome, beyond my power. I must be the one to conquer!<br />
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Clearly, I cannot be. I have done step 1 a few times, to varying levels. But all the steps are onions. You do them to the best of your ability, and you peel off a layer. And then your ability changes, and you realize you need to do the step again, and another layer is discarded. I think I'm down like 3 layers of Step 1. The onion still looks like an onion.<br />
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I can't do it. I mean, I really can't do it. Jesus can. Will I let Him?<br />
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Today I will.<br />
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<br />Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-27670416724417616052014-08-10T13:52:00.000-06:002014-08-10T14:17:24.787-06:00The Disease of Perfectionism and the Little Girl Who Showed Me Truth<div class="tr_bq">
All week long I fail and fail and fail. Every day, I look around and find something to hate myself about. A messy room. Unfolded laundry. Long grass outside. Fighting kids. </div>
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It's my job to fix the world- at least my world- and I fail at that every day. It's my job to make my family and our lives perfect. Only, it isn't my job, but I have a hard time understanding that.<br />
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Perfectionism rules me, like a merciless dictator. <i>Do it right, or not at all. Oh, look, you did it wrong- why'd you try? You do everything wrong. You should just do nothing. But you do nothing wrong, too. If it's not right, it's useless/worthless/futile/wasted.</i><br />
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Daily, I fight this. Well, sometimes I don't fight it because it's too hard to fight. Sometimes I give in. Sometimes I just don't try because to try is to fail. The struggle is real! Sometimes, I get tired of trying to convince myself of the truth that doing something wrong doesn't make me a failure; it makes me a human. All week long, I try to remember grace, but end up defaulting to guilt. Guilt, you see, is a primary symptom of perfectionism. Also, anger, defeatism, insecurity, anxiety, procrastination, exhaustion, self-loathing, and fear. That's me.<br />
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So, Sunday comes around and it most certainly holds more guilt and failure. <i>I didn't prepare enough for Primary. I didn't go to bed on time. The children will never learn the songs because I didn't prepare or go to bed on time.</i> And even when I do spend hours preparing, it's never enough- never right.<br />
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<blockquote>
Tangent: This reminds me of a time when I was trying desperately to save my marriage. My bishop told me if I was a better housekeeper, my husband would want to spend more time at home, and he would be inspired to be a better husband. I now think that was a ridiculous thing of him to say (even bishops make mistakes), but I followed his counsel and made sure to have the house clean when he came home from work, and dinner waiting on the table. This was no small feat with a part time job myself, two babies under 2, and the depression that results from living with an emotionally abusive controller. But, it was never enough for my husband. The dinner wasn't cooked just right. He didn't have the right flippin' fork. I remember one day he came home, and I had worked so so hard, and the living room and kitchen were sparkly clean and dinner was ready, and I was so excited to see his reaction. Surely, he'd be pleased at the condition of the house upon his return. But he marched inside, inspected the living room and kitchen, simply nodded, then went down the hall into the laundry room and hollered that the laundry wasn't done. But what about what I <i>had</i> done all day? I was so sad. I could never be good enough for him; I could never do enough for him.<br />
That was absurd of him, but I do the same exact thing to myself. I can never be enough for myself, because no matter how hard I work or how much I do, I only see what I didn't do. I've got to change this. </blockquote>
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So, anyway, today wasn't any different from any other Sunday. I woke up with the guilt I default to. I stayed up too late, what's the matter with me? I didn't prepare enough for primary, what's the matter with me? I'm a terrible person because I'm late to church. I'm a terrible person because my living room is a mess. I'm a terrible person because I'm eating breakfast ten minutes before church starts.<br />
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I went to church in the spirit of fear, dread, and hopelessness, and beating myself up because how could I learn anything in such an emotional state?<br />
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Well, the thing is, God is more powerful than I am. The Spirit can penetrate the hardest of hearts. I'm not saying my heart was the hardest of hearts, but I wasn't necessarily open for learning. <i>However, </i> I was <i>there. </i>And I was honest about being there. I attended because it's a commandment and because I want to obey the commandments, and because I have my wonderful calling to fulfill, and because, despite my hard heart, I really did want to feel the love of God. And feel it, I did. I felt it during our wonderful Sacrament Meeting. I felt it during the Sacrament itself. I felt honored to have been worthy to partake of the sacred emblems. I felt the Spirit during the beautiful hymns of worship. By the time Sacrament Meeting was over, I was in a much more open, humble state. And I was excited for primary.<br />
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Regardless of how much failing I do in preparation for my calling, and regardless of how inadequate in it I feel always, I love it always. I'm always grateful for it. I have never enjoyed a calling more. I'm the Primary Music Leader, which means I get to work with my two favorite things: music and children. The sweet, sweet primary kids lift and inspire me weekly. I all too often go to church feeling down and anxious, and if I don't feel healed by Sacrament Meeting, seeing the children always does the trick. I have so much love for them, and I <i>love</i> being with them. I'm getting weepy right now just thinking of it. Oh, they are wonderful.<br />
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When it's time for Singing Time, I frequently have the kids read a scripture off of a picture I found in a <i>Friend</i> magazine. This one, in fact:<br />
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I try to remember to have it read at the beginning of each Singing Time, and then hanging it up on the board, so the kids will memorize it w/o knowing it, because it's such an important verse. But, I end up remembering about once a month. I remembered today. I asked for a volunteer to read it. Naturally, several hands shot up into the air. Rarely, I will feel compelled to call on a certain child for various tasks, and at this time, I felt compelled to call on a sweet little 8-year-old in the front row. Her name is Addie. This was Senior Primary, so the 7- and 8-year-olds are the youngest in the room. I usually choose an older child to read this verse because I don't want anyone to feel embarrassed if they can't read some of the words. Addie's mom is one of my dear friends, and so I knew that Addie struggled in school with reading. So, my instinct was to not choose her, because I felt she wouldn't know how to read all the words, and that that may embarrass her.</div>
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When I'm paying attention, the Spirit trumps instinct, and I called on Addie. I basically felt like I <i>had</i> to. She bounced out of her seat and eagerly skipped to the board where I'd hung the sign. With a smile and a soft voice, she read the verse. She struggled with more than half of the words. She needed help with several. As she read - slowly, struggling, smiling - my heart swelled with pride for her, and with admiration and amazement. (I'm getting weepy again.) She, undoubtedly, was aware of her own weakness, <i>but she tried anyway.</i> She needed help, <i>but she tried anyway.</i> And I wondered, Why? Why would this sweet girl volunteer to read something <i>in front of people</i> when she knew she would struggle? That goes against all my ridiculous rules. I can't do anything if I can't do it right, <i>especially</i> not when people are watching. How could anyone ever be so brave? Even when I was 8 years old, I never would do something in front of others that I didn't know I could execute flawlessly. And if I <i>did</i> make a mistake, even as a child, I would lament over it for days, and play the incident over and over in my mind, and let fear take over repeatedly. </div>
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But Addie is wiser than I was; than I <i>am.</i> Addie, with that attitude, will learn so much. I hope Addie's courage will continue to trump her insecurities. I hope the next time I'm afraid of what others will think of me if I screw up, that I will remember Addie's courage. I can tell she has her mother's tenacity and determination, and I'm also so grateful to her mom, my friend, for teaching Addie by her wonderful example. </div>
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Sometimes, when I'm compelled by the Spirit to call on a certain child, it's for the child. Today, while some of it may have been for Addie, it was for <i>me. </i>I think Heavenly Father wanted me to choose her so that <i>I</i> could see - actually <i>see</i> - that perfection is <i>not </i>the point. I feel like He wanted to show me that it really, truly is okay to struggle, and to not appear perfect. And that it's not so much about doing it<i> right; </i>it's about <i>doing it. </i>What a beautiful tender mercy!</div>
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Oh, sweet child. God bless you for your bravery. I will remember your example for many years to come.<br />
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I feel so honored and blessed to have a calling with these precious souls in little bodies.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-28326857026181496532014-07-18T21:20:00.001-06:002014-07-18T21:38:22.587-06:00It's Not About the PerformanceI am a musician. Well, I guess that depends on how you define "musician," but I am a musician by my definition. :) And I participate in several music events a year, wherein I practice and then either play the piano in front of people, or sing in front of people. Some people would call this a performance, and sometimes it is.<br />
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As a director of a choir that sings at our local prisons for their LDS Christmas and Easter church services, I always tell my choir that it's less important that we "perform" than that we invite the Spirit. I tell them it's less about how we sound than it is about our testimonies. I don't want to discourage practice or effort, of course, but it's important to me that my choir not get hung up on performance and, essentially, perfection. I don't want them to feel bad if they miss a note, because the Choir's purpose is not about flawless execution.<br />
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It's about the journey. It's about authenticity. It's about connecting to our brothers and sisters in the prisons and bringing them messages of hope and love, not messages of musical flawlessness. It's about mutual growth; it's about baring our souls and sharing our faith. It's about service and sacrifice. (This is not to say we don't sing well. We are a quite talented group, if I do say so myself.) And, honestly, for being a total perfectionist myself, the Prison Choir (as we affectionately call it) is one thing that, for whatever reason, doesn't demand my perfection in my view. It's one of few (indeed, I can think of nothing else) of my endeavors for which I don't demand perfection in order to not be a failure. I am able to forgive myself for my mistakes during the practice season and for the mistakes I make at the prisons, because, somehow, God successfully gets it into my head, every year, that it's <i>not about me.</i> And, for reals, the dear offenders just don't care if we miss a note; they're genuinely grateful we're simply <i>there.</i><br />
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Because... <b><i>It's not about the performance.</i></b><br />
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I have seen addiction recovery as being totally recovered, like, not even having a desire to sin and use dangerous methods of coping. Like, recovery isn't recovery until recovery is <i>complete.</i> And that the journey from active addiction to constant sobriety is something that is a means to an end, and basically a sin in itself for as long as complete, eternal sobriety is not attained. So every slip is a huge setback and a huge disappointment, because it indicates that recovery has not been reached. And recovery seemed to be the ultimate and <i>only </i>worthy goal. Essentially, in my mind, total recovery was the performance; the perfect, flawless, rigid performance.<br />
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So yesterday was Thursday which means it was the night of my PASG meeting. I didn't want to go. I felt I had nothing to contribute, so why go? But I felt compelled to attend anyway, as I usually do, and I went, as I usually do. And it was seriously an amazing meeting for me. While I had little to contribute, I had <i>much</i> to learn, and learn I did. Many things. The Spirit was strongly whispering to my heart beautiful truths about me and my relationship to God.<br />
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And then, toward the end of the meeting, someone said, about addiction recovery, "if it takes a lifetime, that's okay." Sometimes when I hear stuff like that, I get discouraged. A <i>lifetime</i>? Will I be fighting this, slipping, hoping, failing, crying <i>forever</i>? I just can't handle the idea of fighting this till I die! But, yesterday, "if it takes a lifetime to recover, that's okay" sounded like comfort. It sounded like hope. It sounded like grace. It sounded like this quote by Elder Bruce R McConkie:<br />
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<b><span style="color: #d5a6bd;">. . . everyone in the Church who is on the straight and narrow path, who is striving and struggling and desiring to do what is right, though is far from perfect in this life; if he passes out of this life while he’s on the straight and narrow, he’s going to go on to eternal reward in his Father’s kingdom. </span>– “The Probationary Test of Mortality,” January 10, 1982</b></blockquote>
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"It's okay if it takes a lifetime" sounded like "be kind to yourself. Be patient with yourself." Instantly, my choir came to my mind and how I focus more on the Spirit than on our performance. And it hit me- just like my choir isn't about the performance, neither likewise is addiction recovery about the performance.<br />
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You guys, <i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not about the performance!</i><br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>It's about the <i>process.</i><br />
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It's not about 100% success. It's not about completion. It's not about finishing addiction recovery because, honestly and truly, it <i>may not ever be finished.</i> Some people have depression their entire lives. Some people have diabetes their entire lives. Some people have Down's Syndrome their entire lives, or any given illness or disorder their whole dang lives, and sometimes, illness-- even psychological/emotional illness-- is lifelong, <b>and that's okay</b>, because it's not about the performance. Sometimes people have the disease of <i>addiction</i> their whole dang lives. It's about living life to the best of our abilities with what we have and what we know, to the fullest of our faith and hope. It's about learning the music as we go and sharing it, perfect or not, with those around us. It's about connection, faith, growth, and inviting the Spirit into our lives. Just like my choir, it's not about perfection; flawlessness. It's about finding joy and truth. It's about the process.<br />
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When my choir leaves the prisons, the inmates aren't going to hold in their hearts the memory of missed notes or forgotten lyrics. They will hold in their hearts the memory of our testimonies, of the Spirit invited by sweet, sacred music, of the messages of hope. They will hold in their hearts that <i>we showed up</i>, with something prepared, just for them.<br />
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And, also, not to compare God to an offender, but He also isn't as concerned about our execution as He is about the fact that we're <i>here</i>, that we prepare and try and work, that we allow the Spirit in our lives to guide us. If we slip or relapse- miss a note- well, that's just not as important as that we keep singing.<br />
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And if I don't "recover" tomorrow, it's okay. If I'm not "recovered" next year, it's still okay! Because . . . say it with me . . . <b>it's not about the performance. </b><br />
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I'm so inexplicably grateful for the Addiction Recovery Program. I'm profoundly, inexplicably grateful for my Savior and my Brother and my Friend, Jesus Christ, who patiently teaches me my worth, and stands ever before me with His arms open to scoop me in and keep me safe. Oh, how sweet is His grace. How sweet is His love.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-29595258151596946822014-07-10T21:38:00.001-06:002014-07-10T21:38:35.043-06:00The Grace Experiment: A Memoir (Day 1)True to form, I woke this morning with my regular litany of accusations, all of which I would declare myself <b>guilty.</b> I stayed up too late, how could I? Well if I'd have done the dishes earlier, if I'd have spent less time on Facebook and done more good stuff, if I'd have done ______, then I'd have been worthy and probably would have been responsible to make it to bed on time. If, if, then, then.<br />
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But then I remembered grace. I remembered the experiment.<br />
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The word "grace" on its own is so powerful to me. I mean, the instant I hear it, or see it spelled out across my consciousness, I feel a calmness and a power. An exhale. <i>Grace</i>. It's a beautiful word. So, when I remembered grace, I felt calmer, and I shut up the guilt. I rejected the normal guilt of the morning and focused on readying for work.<br />
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I listened to a conference talk on the way to work and donned myself with an attitude of grace- of one who accepts the grace that is always, always there. And I had an amazing, happy day at work. I came home and did a few things and then headed off to my ARP meeting, and as I was driving, I remembered, with a 20-lb dumbbell of guilt and another 20-lb dumbbell of self-judgement, that I hadn't read the scriptures after work like I had planned to. So I hadn't read at all today. And those familiar voices, "seriously, Stephanie? How could you forget that?! Why are you always forgetting everything?" and just so much guilt over missing a simple duty and promise.<br />
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And then I remembered grace. And I smiled because grace makes me smile. And I hushed my frantic critiques and reminded myself the day's not over and that whether or not I read scriptures has no bearing on my worth. And I let it go.<br />
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And then I had a beautiful meeting where I actually tried to connect to the others in attendance which was awkward and bumbling but I had a wonderful time and it was a wonderful meeting. And I love those ladies, all of them.<br />
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So now I'm suuuuper tired and I'm going to bed with grace instead of guilt and maybe instead of all the worries I will think of all the blessings, and maybe I'll sleep better.<br />
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I hope tomorrow is as happy as today was.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-79652511232797883352014-07-09T21:46:00.000-06:002014-07-09T21:53:51.449-06:00The Grace Experiment: A Memoir (Embarking)The other Sunday, I slipped. I spent the entire week, until last Monday, in a funk. It was a funk of self-loathing born of anger and frustration. How can I keep doing this when I know better? Why is this still a problem? I HATE THIS! I hate it! Why do I continue to indulge in something that I fully hate?<br />
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I was angry to the core and I covered my anger up with extreme guilt and self-loathing. And I was tired of fighting it. I didn't want to fight the negatives. I just wanted to wallow in them because, dang it all, I deserved that.<br />
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Anyway, I don't want to focus on that. Finally I pulled myself out of the sludge somewhere around yesterday. Today I had an appointment with my amaaaaaazing therapist, Soni, and gave her a bit of a rundown.<br />
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*******I interrupt this program to tell you the story of how I found my therapist. <a href="http://step-4.blogspot.com/2013/08/why-should-my-strength-slacken-because.html" target="_blank">Last August</a>, I made seriously horrible choices with a manfellow, and I therefore forfeited my temple recommend, which I'd only had for a few months after several years of not having it. I realized then that I was sicker than I had been admitting, because, I tell you what, I resisted almost nothing. I couldn't believe I was so weak especially after working so hard for so long. Anyway, I decided I needed counseling again. My last therapist had been the previous year, with LDS Family Services, and she was really great, but she said I was her healthiest client, and I didn't feel healthy at all, so I thought she thought I didn't need her. ALSO, she was all the way in Boise, and too expensive. So I prayed that I would find someone local, and someone who could really help me, and someone I could afford. At the time, I wasn't even employed! But I felt it was important, even so, to find a therapist. So do you know what I did? I Googled "Nampa counselors" and followed links till I found a website that had a long list of licensed therapists in Nampa.<br />
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Now, this was terrifying in a way. I was out there all by myself, referring myself, and I was terrified to find someone like <a href="http://step-4.blogspot.com/2012/02/david-ridley.html" target="_blank">David Ridley</a> who would just ruin me further. I knew I would be looking for a woman for sure (because David Ridley poisoned me against male therapists- not that I believe all or even most male therapists are predators, but I figured my chances were better with a female, and that I could relate better anyway). And I read through the bios of several women therapists on the website. When I saw Soni's picture, I knew I needed to contact her. I hadn't even read her bio yet. I saw her picture and I felt that swoosh in the heart- you know what I'm talking about? I went to read her bio and hoped for some indication that she was LDS. She wasn't, but she was forthcoming about her Christianity, so we had that in common. And, she also didn't say anything about sexual addictions in her bio. I was slightly disheartened, but I emailed her right away, and she responded almost right away, and we set up an appointment, and I was humbled and impressed and inspired by her knowledge and her understanding and her compassion. And she is PERFECT. Well, perfect for me anyway. And isn't it awesome how God places people in our paths? She has certainly contributed to my healing, and continues to do so, and I feel so blessed to have been guided to her. ***********<br />
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Back to my post! So, I went to therapy today and told Soni what was up, and what was down, and she just guided the truth that I already knew to my consciousness. Grace. She talked a lot about grace. And you know what? I really feel like we LDS folk undermine grace. We say "faith without works is dead" like it's more important than "Come boldly to the throne of grace." There seems to be a <i>cultural</i> focus on works <i>over</i> grace. And we say the traditional Christians have it all wrong when they say all you have to do is accept Jesus into your heart as your Savior and you'll be saved.<br />
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But, here's the thing. If I truly and daily and completely accept Jesus as my Savior; if I accept His grace always, if I surrender my will to His, then I will be saved. I <i>am</i> saved. Every day. When we accept one thing, we, of a necessity, surrender another thing. If I accept that I am not 18 anymore, then I surrender the idea that I'm 18 still. You know? When I accepted that my marriage was over, I surrendered the idea that it would last forever. When I accept Jesus as my Savior, then I surrender myself. And when I surrender myself; my will, I will do whatever He wants me to do, and therefore, I will do good works, because I will do <i>His</i> works. We Mormons sometimes talk like works comes before grace, but I really think it's quite the opposite. Grace inspires good. Grace is what heals us and emboldens us, and <i>enables </i>us to do good. I was reading in Romans where Paul said, essentially, that belief is what inspires us to do good... but now I can't find the verse. I'll find it later. :)<br />
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Anyway. Grace abounds . . . always. And I'm going to work to stop rejecting it. Every day, I live in a place of guilt and fear. I make all my choices based on guilt or fear (or duty). I wake feeling instantly guilty for my upcoming failures and my last night's failures. I retire to my bed listening to the lullaby of the failures of the day. Guilt, guilt, guilty, every dang day, every dang moment. I'm so afraid that I won't hold myself responsible, that I make sure I beat the crap out of myself. It's not doing it for me anymore, so I'm trying an experiment; a trial, if you will. At Soni's brilliant suggestion, I'm going to work hard to start off my days with grace and not guilt. Can you imagine how different my morning will be tomorrow, when I welcome myself to the day and take notice of the grace around me? And then partake?<br />
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It's there. Always.<br />
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I'm going to work hard to reject guilt instead of grace. I'll give myself permission to take on my responsibilities, but without guilt. Without my own punitive sports announcer in my head. I free myself of tomorrow's guilt! I permit myself to see and invite and accept God's love for me, all day!<br />
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I kinda feel like tomorrow is going to be awesome. I shall report.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565465450635364245.post-6768550947017809272014-06-26T23:28:00.001-06:002014-06-26T23:28:40.667-06:00The Sensation of TemptationRight now, it's like that biting itch you sometimes get, and you feel that you must scratch it immediately or you will surely die. It comes on suddenly, without warning, and then it's just there, powerful and strange and very, very needy. It MUST be stopped, and it must be stopped immediately, and the only way to stop it is to scratch the heck out of it. You know that itch I'm talking about.<br />
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It's like unto the itch of addiction, especially to the newby. At least it was for me. When abstinence was this new thing I had hope for, and this new thing I was trying out, denying myself of the coping methods I had grown accustomed -- addicted -- to, that itch was there. It was powerful. It was needy. It called for my immediate and full attention. It was physical, like an itch. After time, the itches became emotional. After time, the temptations to indulge in my addictions were due to emotional triggers. That crazy, intense physical need wasn't any longer a daily struggle. Occasionally, after a slip, I feel that intense physical need again. But it's easier to deny as abstinence becomes more than norm than indulgence, and after a few days, it's gone.<br /><br />Except for the past two weeks. I feel like I'm just now starting to climb out of active addiction for the FIRST TIME. I am feeling those intense physical itches demand my immediate attention just like before. FOR TWO WEEKS. Oh my gosh. I can't believe I've survived, for real.<br />
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Hmmmm. On that note . . . I <i>have</i> survived. I have been receiving a physical beating from Satan for two consecutive weeks, and I haven't given in, not even a little. I haven't opened up a search window with sketchy intentions. I haven't entertained inappropriate thoughts. I haven't started up a questionable conversation with an old dude-friend. I haven't opened the door- haven't even reached to scratch that damn itch.<br />
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Well, what do you know. A victory I hadn't thought to acknowledge.<br /><br />Do you know what this means?!?! It means Heavenly Father is helping me so much. It means that my regular scripture study and praying, following promptings, making myself available for service-- it means these things have paid off; <i>are</i> paying off. Satan is seeing my efforts and trying so hard to undermine them, but I am relying on my Savior more than I am on my flesh. This means <i>progress. </i>This means that doing more of the things I've been working so hard to do are even more important that I realized. And that I need to do them with more urgency to keep me continually safe.<br /><br />I don't feel exhausted from Satan's buffetings, but I'm very annoyed by them. However, I'm also grateful for the strength God has mercifully granted me in this time. I have kept Him in the loop. As these itches, these temptations, vigorously seize me, I call out to Him.<br /><br />I know I'm not immune. I know two victorious weeks does not mean I've won the war. I know I must still fight, and fight I will. I'm encouraged, now, because Satan can try his hardest, and as long as I'm keeping the commandments and holding tight to the Savior, I will not fall. Not after two weeks of constant buffetings. Not after a year of ceaseless enticings. Jesus is my Savior and my brother and my friend, and He is my rock, a foundation upon which if I build, I cannot fall.<br />
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At the beginning of last week, I kept getting this impression that I needed to ask for a blessing for help with my addiction. I didn't want to because it's sorta embarrassing. And I felt like I could handle it. (ha!) Well I finally decided that I didn't want to NOT ask and then find out consequences, so I asked my brother and he obliged. I think that the combination of the Priesthood blessing and my obedience to a prompting gave me enough power to make it through-- along with my trying to do those daily important spiritual boosts.<br />
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I'm grateful! I'm grateful I wrote this because by so doing I realized that by asking for it, I received the strength I needed from my Father in Heaven.<br /><br />Tonight, I'll pray again for power to overcome. Because even now, I feel the buffetings of the Adversary. Even now, I feel him taunting, inviting, daring. In the words of the prince in one of my favorite movies, Ever After, "I will not yield!" Because I don't have to. Because Jesus is my Savior, and He can <i>and will</i> save me from this.Stephanie Markelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06891896294343592765noreply@blogger.com1