Reconciliation and Separation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Losing Battle

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

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

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

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

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

I'm Almost Certain I Won't Slip Again

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

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

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

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

Or, perhaps, it's something more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From Weakness to Strength

**this is a quite informal post as it began as a Facebook post.**

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.

I decided to test God. I figured this was okay, since in Malachi chapter 3 He basically says "Try me and see...."

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.

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.

And, well, over the past few months, I have NOT become organized. But I can testify that I AM *becoming* 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.

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 ability 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 doable to me. I feel like I can. I can 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 will, because I know He is.

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.

What does this have to do with addiction, you may ask? Well, what doesn't 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 “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.” 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.

Some of my favorite verses of scripture are found in Mosiah 24:

 13 And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.

 14 And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.

 15 And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens
with ease,and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.

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. 

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. 

It's a beautiful thing to have so much access to so much Truth.

(you guys, I don't know how this font changed color and size, and I don't know how to fix it.)

I Would Take Her to a Safe Place and Tell Her Truths

I had a therapy appointment today. I love my therapist, which I have mentioned before. I love having a therapist- a good one.

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.

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.

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.

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. 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).

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. 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.

Here's where I slid on the ice and spun into a parked car. 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.

There's the apartment. 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.

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.

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.

Wait, what?

Apparently, feeling and acknowledging pain is healthy. OH YEAH! Marsha thrives when I don't acknowledge pain, after all.

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.

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 my trauma, and my pain.

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?'"

Well, no. Oh.

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.

• I'm not good enough
• Not a good enough mom
• Not a good enough wife
• A burden on my husband
• Stuck with my husband because I chose him
• Not worth an apology
• Not worth respect
• Worthless
• Not worth being heard

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."

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. 

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 -- are 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. 

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? Impossible. 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.

Now, as addicts, we tend to easily believe the lies. We believe we're not worth it. I mean, we really, legitimately believe 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. 

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. 

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.

How interesting that addiction is all based on lies. I think that's true. My addiction is fed by and sustained by lies. If I believed the truths all the time, I would be free all the time. 

John 8:32-- And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. 

Aimless

I'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.

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, how did that happen? I can't believe that happened. 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.

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.

How is it possible I don't get it yet? How is it possible this addiction is so much stronger than I am?

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 am not strong enough to conquer. I keep trying to be. I want to be. I want to do this alone.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

I can't do it. I mean, I really can't do it. Jesus can. Will I let Him?

Today I will.

It's Not About the Performance

I 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.

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.

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 not about me. And, for reals, the dear offenders just don't care if we miss a note; they're genuinely grateful we're simply there.

Because... It's not about the performance.

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 complete. 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 only worthy goal. Essentially, in my mind, total recovery was the performance; the perfect, flawless, rigid performance.

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 much 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.

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 lifetime? Will I be fighting this, slipping, hoping, failing, crying forever? 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:

. . . 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. – “The Probationary Test of Mortality,” January 10, 1982

"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.

You guys, It's not about the performance!
 It's about the process.

It's not about 100% success. It's not about completion. It's not about finishing addiction recovery because, honestly and truly, it may not ever be finished. 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, and that's okay, because it's not about the performance. Sometimes people have the disease of addiction 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.

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 we showed up, with something prepared, just for them.

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 here, 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.

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 . . . it's not about the performance. 

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.

On Triggers and Reaching Out

I used to think that a "trigger" was something that tuned you in immediately to your addiction. Like, maybe a pornographic billboard, or an open beer, or the smell of pot- depending on your addiction. So, I would avoid triggers to the best of my understanding. I would avoid driving by the sex shops in town, avoid billboards I know are around, avoid sex talk, etc. And, I guess those can all be triggers too, but the ones I need to really look out for are the ones I hadn't previously identified as actual triggers.

Some recovering addicts say things like, "I'm triggering bad right now," when they want to reach out. So I would always equate that to, if they have sexual addictions, them having to fight off lustful fantasies, or having to fight the temptation, or as my dear friend Annette calls it, the "crave." I have up till a few days ago equated "trigger" with "current temptation."

When I'm in a mode of focusing on sin, and hoping that I won't indulge but ultimately knowing that I will, I have zero desire to reach out. I'm not going to tell anyone when I'm currently in the zone, the zone of rare return, the "I'm-going-to-type-this-pretendingly-innocent-search-term-in-the-search-bar-and-it's-not-like-anything-will-happen" zone; the "if-I-accidentally-see-an-image-or-heading-I-know-I'll-be-okay," zone; the "just-one-look-won't-hurt" zone; the "I-got-this" zone. I'm already too far gone then. I have already bowed to idol of stone pride, then. And I always wondered, how the heck do people reach out when they're "triggering?" When I'm triggering, I'm already too far gone, and ain't no way I'm letting anyone in then!

But then I realized that the zone I'm in at that point is not a trigger zone. It's beyond the trigger zone. At that point, the trigger zone has been hidden by dust and distance.

I need to be better at reaching out when I'm experiencing real triggers. Before I let those triggers lead me to a path of certain regret, I need to acknowledge them as triggers and talk to someone about them. I think a trigger is something that, if allowed to fester silently, will come out roaring in the form of a fix. Some of my common triggers include:

Feeling overwhelmed
Counting my failrues
Self-laothing
Tiredness
Hormonal changes (PMS, etc.)
Stress
Sadness (though this one is becoming less and less a trigger as I learn to appreciate it, love it, and let it live)
Fear
Indecision
Confusion
Feeling rejected/insecurity

I think my biggest triggers are feeling overwhelmed, fear, and insecurity. So, now, when I notice that I'm feeling overwhelmed, I send a text to a friend and let her know I'm feeling overwhelmed. It doesn't have to be a dramatic scripting of where I think this will take me if I continue on this road, but just a simple, "I'm feeling overwhelmed. There is so much to do! I can never get it done. I know I'm not a failure, but today I'm feeling it." And then she'll respond with something kind and normal, and since I've given VOICE to the trigger, it holds less power. And since I've become ACCOUNTABLE by letting someone in, the trigger holds less power.

It's difficult for me to reach out because I still want to be my own Jesus. I still want to show . . . someone- myself? . . . that I can make it on my own. I still don't want to ask for help. But I do it now because it's important to me to stay away from sexual sin. And now that I have a better understanding of what my own personal triggers are, I can talk about them. I can let people in. It's difficult to train my brain to take stress and feeling like a failure as a huge warning. But, I'm doing it. Slowly, but surely, I'm recognizing these emotions as triggers. All of us experience these emotions, but addicts cope with them by using their addiction. I am learning better methods of coping, and I am learning courage.

How Many Days of "Day One?"

So, yesterday I slipped.

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

How did I become so arrogant?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I weep as I recall that beautiful moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Was in Prison, and ye Came unto Me / ONE YEAR

I should really make this two separate posts, but the reality is, it won't happen. So, two posts in one:

I spent time in four prisons today. It was an amazing experience.

But, first, let's talk about a timeline here. One year ago today, I posted this post about what is a Rock Bottom. That post was really a decision for me. That post was about the time I was really working on Step 3, the step that changed my life when I finally DID it. The day before that, I slipped. At that point, I think I had never gone beyond 35 days of sobriety. Never, since, like, 2007. And before that, I dunno. December 15 one year ago is when sobriety began accompanying my recovery. 78 days after December 15, I slipped. 78 days was HUGE. It was an insane improvement from my normal 2 week cycle, and over 100% further than my previous record. Oh, I was pretty devastated that day, but come on, that was a miracle! Even now, I'm still tempted to scold myself and say "so-and-so has been sober since they first attended an ARP meeting," or "so-and-so's haven't taken nearly as long to recover as I have." But, I'm trying not to go there. Okay, so anyway, after 78 days, I did not relapse. It was a slip, and that was it, which is another miracle. Previously, any slip meant a relapse, just about. I only made it about 30 days before my next slip, but that was another slip, and not a relapse. And then! Then I made it past 78, past 90, past 100, somewhere around 150, I THINK. I don't know the exact number, but it was and still is my record. I slipped again back in August and it was my worst slip yet, in fact, it was a mini-relapse. I say mini because it lasted probably three or four days, but it was pretty rough in those 3-4 days. One of those days included a man, and the devastating loss of my temple recommend. And I realized I am still so sick. I realized I cannot be trusted in specific circumstances, and I realized I was still not over manipulating men. I hate even writing that! But, I have found that when I go back and read old posts, I appreciate details like this. It serves as a reminder, both of how far I've come, and of that I need to still be careful.

So that's the last time I slipped. That was 127 days ago. That's something like three times in one year, with the last time having a few incidents. As I write that, I weep, I weep at the miracle! If you would have asked me 18 months ago if I thought I could go one year and only indulge in my addiction three times, or seven or eight times, even, I couldn't have believed you. I couldn't have believed I could ever have such a year. I couldn't have imagined such freedom. I was in a place where 2 weeks was too hard.

Oh, my sweet Redeemer, I am healed by Thy grace.

I don't know what next year holds. Three slips? One? None? Who knows. I'm just working on today. And tonight, as Sidreis says, I'm going to bed safe.

----------------------------------------------------------

Okay! Onto the prison story! Oh my goodness! I haven't ever written here about it, but for the past 3 years, I have been a member of a choir whose sole purpose is to sing at the LDS Christmas services in the local prisons. We begin practicing in September of each year and in the middle of December, we take our choir and travel to the prisons and present our program. Every year, it is an amazing, humbling, inspiring experience. My first year there, I remember how clear it was made to me that those who are incarcerated are my brothers and sisters. They are one bad choice away from me, some of them. You know? I remember thinking, my first time, some of these people are addicts, like me. Their addictions are probably more illegal than mine, but who's to say they're more dangerous? I remember thinking I'm just like they are, only free to choose! I remember thinking how similar I am to those precious offenders. Not in addiction, not in sin, but in humanness. We're the same, I saw.

I tell you what, God is in the prisons.

Every year thereafter, I have been struck by how human they are. They are kind and gracious, at least to our choir, and they have immeasurable worth in the sight of God.

Earlier this year, our choir director moved to Utah (hey, SLC peeps, look out for Jenny McKinney- she may do a prison choir next year!), and when she asked me to take over the choir here for her, I eagerly accepted! I was so excited! So, this year, I got to be the director. I have had choir practices every Saturday night at my house for past several months. For as scattered and disorganized I am, it all went rather well. But, then, the choir is full of 15 fantastic women, so not much could go wrong. ;)

Each year, we have some brief speaking parts along with our song selection. This year, I decided to have the choir talk about some of their personal stories of belief and hope. Our theme was "Be Believing." I shared about addiction recovery, you bet I did. In every service, the ARP program was mentioned by the brother who conducted (a bishop or other appointed volunteer from outside the prisons). In my story, I made sure to mention how the ARP program has been a blessing for me. Many inmates expressed gratitude to me, after the program, for sharing my story. One of the Priesthood Holders thanked me specifically, and said he had heard my story before (I think at a Speaker's Meeting? He said a training meeting, so it was either that or a facilitator training meeting I attended once) and he'd hoped I would share it because, he said, "they need it." I was so grateful I was in a place to share it and use my past hell to maybe, hopefully, inspire someone else, or at least maybe offer a glimmer of hope that recovery is possible. Last year I couldn't have done it. The years before, I wouldn't have even almost dared to share!

Today was the day we'd been practicing for. Our first prison was a women's prison, and the next three were men's. As the director, I have a little more insight into God's love for our brothers and sisters who are incarcerated. As I put together the program, I was guided- clearly, unmistakably guided- as to what music I should include, what our speaking parts should be, even the order of songs. I was in awe at how important these inmates are to our Heavenly Father. So important, that He cares about a musical program that will be heard at four prisons in Idaho, by a small percentage of the inmates. He cares about them so much, that He would guide an uneducated choir director about the very songs to include. It is astonishing to me, though not surprising. It is humbling, so very, very humbling. God loves the least of us. He counts us all. None are forgotten.

And, as I was searching the faces of the precious offenders, I was blessed with a glimmer of what God thinks of them. I recalled the guidance I'd had in organizing the program as I looked at my brothers and sisters, and I was flooded with love. And it's interesting to think that I don't know anything about them. I don't know who they are or why they're there. I don't know what choices they made to lead them to lose their freedom and contact with their families. I don't know anything, but all I could feel was love. I couldn't see their mistakes. I couldn't see their sins. I couldn't feel anything but love. And I think that's how God sees us. Oh, He is just, and we will pay consequences for our poor choices, but when He looks at me, and you, He doesn't see our sins and our mistakes. At least not in a way that would change or block His love. He sees our hearts and He loves us no matter what. It's not about what we have done! We are His children, and His love will not, cannot, change nor diminish.

And the sweetest of all about this is, if Heavenly Father is aware of the needs of the inmates in Idaho - and I know He is, because He led me - then He is also aware of my needs. God is fair and just and no one, to Him, matters more than me. No one matters more than you. No one matters more than each of those inmates. He loves each of us, like there's only one of us, and He loves each of us always.

That is what I know today. I saw His love today. I felt His love. I know His love, and how sweet it is to feel it! How sweet it is to feel it toward others, and toward myself.

What a blessed experience. What an incredible opportunity. I can't wait for next year!

Matthew 25:36, 40-
I was in prison and ye came to me.
Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.