A Flippin' Miraculous Transformation

The 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 almost forgotten what it's like to be in that place. Third, it was a blaring indicator of my progress; the miracle of me.

I share now the poem with you:

Lucky Her

"She killed herself," she whispered
Of her friend who died last night.
Then with frosted lenses, she said, "no,
"Depression killed her.
"She died from depression."
When I should have been sad for her,
I was jealous of her friend
Because I have to wake tomorrow
And go to work
Carrying my sins from place to place
Sleepless
Senseless
But that girl who died last night-
She's free.
She'll never choose wrong again.

8.10.11

Three years ago. That came out of my brain and heart and soul three years ago.

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.

I was blind to hope.

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."

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.

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.

The Addiction Recovery Program is a miracle. Using it, Jesus has made me 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 couldn't 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 still 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 Jesus wants me to recover. Jesus wants to heal me. 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."

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:

"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)

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.

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 always in my reach.

My new focus for recovery is simply trusting Him. It is no longer abstinence. Abstinence will be a natural reward of trusting my Redeemer.

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.

Consistency

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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. 

"Let Go and Let God" ≠ "Life is Simple."

I'm learning about surrender. It's hard.

Well, I had the best birthday ever! On Sunday, the day of my previous post, a miracle happened. It was a miracle that restored me, renewed me, inspired me and humbled me. It was beautiful. It was just for me, from God. For my birthday. :)

My miracle came in the form of humans. A couple I know, who are active in various recovery programs, who live near me, responded with love to my quite desperate plea for help. They came over and listened and talked and helped me remember that I am a human and not a freak. They helped me remember the nature of God- that He doesn't want me to suffer, that he doesn't take pleasure in my pain. God is not a punitive God, even when I want Him to be! He is merciful, and He loves to be merciful. And, He loves to be merciful with me. They helped me gain a better understanding that addiction is truly a disease. They were so matter-of-fact, yet so compassionate-- a combination I need and appreciate.

Well, this couple was just what I needed. I'm so grateful for them. I knew they would be kind, but I didn't anticipate that they'd help answer so many prayers.

The husband offered to give me a blessing. Yes, please. I feel like the details are too special to share publicly. But, how it restored faith! How it renewed my heavy heart! Afterward, I felt forgiven, empowered, and so very, very peaceful. I felt remembered by my Heavenly Father. I felt acknowledged.

The next day, my birthday, the wife brought me a God Box. Have you heard about a God Box? Essentially, it's a box that you shut and you write something on a piece of paper that you want to give to God. The box represents God. You put the paper in the box through a slit on top. It's a physical symbol of Step 3, really. It's so good because it helps me SEE my commitment. And it helps me remember "Oh, yeah, I gave that to God already."

Here's my God Box!

It's all taped up to represent that once I give it to God, I need to let it stay with God.

I decided I needed to put something in the box. At least one thing. And I couldn't think of anything I was ready to give Him! Everything I could think of, I wanted to keep control of. Finally, I decided on something: My shift bid at work.

Every 6 months, my job does shift bids. Every employee has to participate. If you are ranked high, you'll get what shift you want. If you're not ranked high, you most likely won't, unless you happen to want a late shift. The early shifts go first. Well, even though I'm tempted to talk about the injustice of the ranking system (because there's a lot more to it than I've implied), I'll just say that it's really not fair to new employees. However, I anticipated that I would get something decent, based on the information I had been given in training.

Anyway, I wrote down "shift bid" on a piece of paper, folded it up, and put it in my God Box. I felt ready to give it to God and stop worrying about it. And every time I wanted to worry, I reminded myself that God will handle it. It's out of my hands. I can do nothing to change what the outcome will be.

Then today happened, and I found out what my shift will be. Everything I wanted was already gone. Nothing I wanted was still available. The information I'd been given in training was incorrect. I was given the option between crappy and crappier and I chose crappy.

As a single mother of two young kids who are in school but aren't quite old enough to stay home alone more than a few hours, it's imperative, in my view, that I have a good, early shift.

So much for giving it to God! I was so angry. How could He do this to me? He could have made it work out, somehow, for me to have a better shift. He didn't. He messed up here, surely. What's the point of turning my life over to God if He's just going to ruin it? I could have done a better job of this, surely (yeah, right, like I ever had any power here). Well, I figuratively took that slip of paper right out of my box, after I promised it to God.

I panicked.

It wasn't fair.

Like it's easy being a single mom with a great work shift, you know? I mean, it's already so hard. It's already so hard for my innocent kids. And now this?

God is amazing, though. All through my stages of panic (I even cried at work in front of coworkers when they asked me what shift I got. It just happened! Embarrassing!), He whispered to my heart. Finally, when I shut up my pride and let the legitimate grief live without my interpretation of it, I heard His whispers:

You can give this back to me.
I'm still in charge.
I will not hurt you, or your family.
I am still here.
It will all be okay.
Trust me.

And I remembered that God, my Father, does not delight in my suffering. And it occurred to me that giving my life to God doesn't mean that my life will be constantly sprinkled with fairy dust. No. It simply means that I have an ally through the hard times. It means I have someone to fight my battles for me, or with me, whatever the circumstance calls for. It means that I don't need to worry or fear. Letting go and letting God doesn't put me on the easy path. What kind of a God would protect me from all hardships? Letting go and letting God means I stop trying to fight, and win, alone.

I am at peace now. The shift does bring me sorrow. But, I am choosing to trust. A lot can happen in a month. Who knows what miracles God has up His sleeve for me in that time? Maybe I'll miraculously get another shift- you never know! Maybe not. Maybe I and my children will miraculously gain the strength to make it through another hard time.

I trust Him. I trust Him because I know His character. I see what He's already done with me, and it's amazing. About work, I am letting go, and letting God.

Like Mother, Like Son; Like Father, Like Daughter

First things first, I got my temple recommend back yesterday!!! I'm soo happy. I'm going tomorrow! It's been three long months.

And now, the real reason for my post. I've written about my son before. Both of my children are so wonderful and teach me daily, and I usually feel like the luckiest mom in the world to have them in my life, as my children. I used to think that my daughter was exactly like me- bright, creative, imaginative, happy, enthusiastic, bossy, emotional, controlling, and, oh yeah, hilarious- and that my son was nothing like me. I am laid back and adaptable; he needs structure and fears change. I am scattered; he is precise. I am slow to anger; he is quick to anger. I don't really care about details; he notices everything. I used to imagine that angels in heaven would draw a mom card and a baby card, and if the two matched, they would send that baby to that mom. If they didn't match, they would find a different baby. I imagined that the angels chose my card and my son's card, and they laughed and laughed and laughed and one of them said, "let's do it anyway," and they laughed and laughed some more, because the two of us are NOT A MATCH. 

My sweet boy is 8, now, and as delightful as ever. I have always loved his guilelessness, his willingness to forgive, his desire to share. While I believed for years that we are opposites, I have always been very grateful to be his mother. He and my daughter bring me joy untold! However, I have realized that my son is exactly like me.

No, he is not an addict. But he has poor impulse control as a result of mild autism, and of circumstances that have never been in his control. For someone needing structure and predictability, this poor kid's life has been turned upside down more than any child deserves. The divorce was so hard on him, and the constant back-and-forth between homes continues to be very hard on him, even 6 years later. He really does have a rough life in many ways, and I usually fail to give him credit for that. He is different from me, and he's so different from most other kids. He is intelligent and has an exceptional memory. He doesn't like to do sports or even so much play with other kids. His vocabulary is bigger than many 8th graders', and he uses much different terminology than his peers. Often, he flaps his hands when other kids would laugh. At school, he was bullied due to his differences, and that broke my heart. One of the huge reasons I chose to homeschool was to protect my son from those bullies (both students and teachers). I thought he'd be loving life doing school at home, and that he'd change. But, the truth is, he still struggles-- not with the academics, but with just doing what he's supposed to do.

While I'm definitely not grateful for my addiction, I'm very grateful for the lessons I have learned and am learning through recovery. Especially in relation to parenting.

This morning started off pretty rough. Firstly, I am PMS-ing, which sometimes means that I have an unusually short fuse. So when my sweet son began his "I'm not doing school!" tirade this morning, I only tried being nice and reasonable for a short time before his continued outbursts set me off. I reacted poorly, and I yelled at my sweet 8-year-old son. He retreated into himself, and I had solved nothing. I had only made things worse. Still angry, but knowing I needed to calm down before I spoke another ill word to my boy, I sequestered myself to my bedroom and knelt, asking God to forgive me for treating His little child so poorly. Then I asked for help. "How do I reach my son?" I asked Him. "This happens almost every day. How do I reach him in a way that will inspire him to just do what he needs to do?"

And do you know what? Even after I had hardened my heart (toward a little child!), God answered my prayer with a thought: "How do I reach you?" 

So I thought a moment. I thought about why I was angry. I was angry because I felt like a failure. I felt like if I was a good mom, he'd want to do his school. If I was a good mom, he wouldn't yell at me and refuse to do simple things I asked him to do. I was upset because I knew if he just did what I asked, he'd be happier, and successful, and the whole family would be happier. I was angry essentially because he wasn't being obedient. How does Father treat me when I'm not being obedient? I thought about all my years of active addiction. I thought about His responses. I thought about how He made me feel in those times of failure to obey.

Does my Father yell at me in frustration and anger? No, but He is patient, kind, long-suffering. He doesn't remind me of all the ways I am failing; He brings to my mind the things I am still doing right. When I slip, He doesn't give up. When I was "slipping" weekly, and even daily, He did not give up on me. 

And that's what I needed from my Father. I needed patience. I needed love and encouragement. I needed forgiveness. And that's what my son needed from me right now. He's just like me. 

So I called him into my bedroom and asked him a few questions. I told him that he's just like me. I told him I know it's hard to do the things that are right sometimes. I told him that when I don't obey Heavenly Father, I feel miserable. I asked him how he felt in that moment, and I asked him how he felt the other day when he did three days worth of school, which was above and beyond what I'd required him to do. I asked him to compare those two feelings. 

How can I judge my son who struggles with obedience when I struggle with the same thing? How can I even get angry with him when it took me years to finally turn honestly to God? 

I told my sweet boy I love him. I told him I was sorry for yelling. I sang him "our song" and we both wept. It's a perfect song for how I feel about him:

I don't mind your odd behavior

It's the very thing I savor

If you were an ice cream flavor

You would be my favorite one

Oh, I've loved you from the start

In every single way

And more each passing day

You are brighter than the stars

Believe me when I say

It's not about your scars.

It's all about your heart.

And afterward, he hugged me, got up and said, "I'm going to go do school. Love you, Mom." 

After he left my room, I got back on my knees to thank my Father for teaching me how to be a parent, and for giving me, personally, the most merciful and loving example. I thought, "I wonder if I'll have to do this every morning to inspire my son to do school and/or chores, or whatever it is?" And then the answer, "God would do it for me. If I need to, I will have a one on one with my son every morning." And maybe he still won't be inspired. Maybe he'll still choose to fume in his bedroom. Just like Heavenly Father can't make me do what's right, I can't make my son do what's right. But I know one thing. I will never, ever give up on him.

A Mark of Progress

Numbers:
58 days since my last slip
298 days since I first began enjoying abstinence with recovery
About 21 days (estimate) till I can get my temple recommend back

Whoa! 298 days ago was when I began climbing out of active addiction. I haven't been active in addiction since! I have had three slips since then and one mini-relapse. That's what I call it. It was a series of slips (like four maybe) over a period of about 2 weeks. That was my last one. That was a horrible one. Anyway, notwithstanding the minor setbacks, this is remarkable progress!! Before 298 days ago, making it two weeks without indulging was a miracle. Now, I've had only a few slips in 298 days. And that is a miracle!

This has been a joint effort between me and Heavenly Father. I walk a step, He carries me fifty steps. I step, He carries. And so it goes. And so I know that as long as I keep moving forward, walking toward my Savior, I will keep finding this success.

The past two months have been exceedingly challenging. I'll spare you the details (you're welcome), but just know that challenges have been piling on top of me, one after another, week after week. And they're not petty challenges, either, but big ones.

It's hard.

I have been tempted on many occasions to give up hope. I've been tempted to give up trying to get out of this circumstantial mess. I've been tempted to rush back to my old comfort, my Marsha, and escape for a moment in the secret delight of counterfeit pleasures. Daily, I think about Marsha. Daily, I think about giving up. Daily, something tries to convince me that it's too hard, that I can't do it, that I must rely on my addictions.

But, daily, I turn to the True Source of my comfort. Daily, I reject lies that I am worthless. Daily, I am reminded that I am not in this alone. My God hath been my support! He hath filled me with his love unto the consuming of my flesh! I know in whom I have trusted. Oh, Lord, I will trust in Thee forever.

My point is, with all these trials happening, with varying challenges every single day, I have not given up. I have not given in. God has granted me grace according to my faith and efforts, and daily, He is saving me. He is keeping me afloat in this sea of burdens. A year ago, these circumstances would have sent me into a spiraling, lasting relapse. I know that. I know that a year ago, I couldn't have handled these happenings the way I am now. It's a beautiful and inspiring mark of progress. I know that I have come a long way, and so I know I that I can go a long way still.

With God as my Father, and Jesus as my guide, I will not fail when I trust in Them.

I am ever-grateful for the ongoing rescue on my behalf. My eternal life and immortality are God's work and glory-- and that is incredible! I mean so much to Him. And so, to Him, I return.

The Worth of MY Soul

Awhile back, I wrote a post called "The Worth of YOUR Soul." The irony almost makes me laugh, now. I intellectually understand the concept of unalterable worth. I understand it enough to write about it and almost make it make sense. I hope by admitting this, I don't seem arrogant, but the post I linked here is one people still talk to me about to this day. "Remember that post? It was great. I need to read it over and over."

And, yet, even though I wrote about it, I still didn't get it. And, I still don't. But, today something clicked for me. Something huge.

As much as I intellectually understand that telling myself things like "I am not an acceptable human being" is a lie, I don't get it. I still believe, to my core, that I am not an acceptable human being. So, when someone doesn't like me, I get hurt, because they're validating my inner truth. If I knew it was false in my heart as I know it in my brain, then when someone stopped hanging out with me, or stopped talking to me like they used to, or said mean things about me behind my back or to my face, or when someone I love treated me like dirt, then those behaviors wouldn't speak to my inner truth: See? You are worthless. See? You will never be accepted. Didn't I tell you? You're not worthy of acceptance."

This inner truth is why when one person says something mean one time, it feels huge. It feels like everything. Because it's the truth I feel. If 1% of all my peers behaves toward me one way, while 99% behaves toward me another way, I'm going to side with whichever group speaks to my personal inner truth. The rest isn't really going to matter. I'd like to switch it around so that my inner truth says the actual truth: that I am worthy. I am worthy of acceptance. If I knew that with my heart, then whenever people I love or don't love treated me in a way that suggested I may not be worthy of acceptance, I wouldn't believe it. I would discard it immediately and carry on with no grudge. It wouldn't matter, because it wouldn't reflect my core beliefs of my worth.

How do I get there? How do I reach a point where external validation/information is not where I find my worth?

My sweet, sweet son teaches me so much. He is a very sensitive child. He's sensitive to a lot of things: sounds, lights, smells, textures. He's sensitive to others' opinions of him. He desperately, desperately wants to be understood and accepted. When he does not feel accepted, he does not feel safe. When he does not feel safe, he may well have a meltdown, complete with screaming and carrying on about how everyone is mean. And I sometimes just don't get it. I think, how can you believe that you are not worthy, son? How can you believe that what little Brandon thinks of you is anywhere near the truth? And sometimes, he even creates scenarios that don't really exist to validate this false truth of his. "Jack was staring at me!" means "Jack hates me and thinks I'm doing something wrong. Jack doesn't like me. I am not accepted by Jack, so I am not acceptable; not worthy of acceptance." And my heart breaks. My sweet son is the most wonderful little boy I know. Why others don't see it is beyond me, but sometimes, even more beyond me, is why my little boy refuses to see it when I am here at home telling him year after year, day after day how wonderful he is and how much he means to me. Why isn't that enough for him? Why doesn't he believe me? I'm his mother! He is acceptable to me. I accept him always, every moment, exactly the way he is.

But, still, he believes those who validate his core belief.

And, so, since however much I love my son, God loves me more, I can see that perhaps my Father in Heaven thinks maybe some of the same things, only on a grander scale. "Stephanie. How can you believe that what Jan thinks of you is anywhere near the truth? How can you believe that you are not worthy, my daughter? It doesn't matter why Richard doesn't think you're worthy; just because you're not accepted by him, doesn't mean you're not acceptable. Why do you refuse to see your worth when I tell you all the time how wonderful you are, how beautiful, and how much you mean to me? Why don't you believe me? I am your God, your Creator, your Eternal Father. I made you and you are worthy of acceptance, always, in every moment, exactly the way you are."

I think of how much my children mean to me. I love them to capacity. I think of how beautiful and incredible they are, and I know that nothing anyone ever said or did to them could make me feel anything different about them. I know that their worth in my eyes is not alterable by their peers or even by their own thoughts. When my son has his moments of self-doubt, I know he's wrong. He just is. His worth is incredible, whether he sees it or not, whether he's in the middle of a meltdown or not, whether he is being obedient and kind or not. I love him the same. He is worth the same. I accept him the same.

Take that and multiply it by infinity, and that's how much God loves me. That's also how Jesus, my Rescuer sees me. Worthy of acceptance all the time.

I hope I get this soon.

Isaiah 49:15, 16
Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.

Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.

Step 7 Miracle

I completed Step 7 about 2.5 weeks ago. It was wonderful! I was going to go into detail of what I did and how I did it, but then I decided I don't want to make any Program newcomer to feel like she (or he) has to do it any certain way, as recovery is an extremely personal process, and just as the details of our addictions are different for everyone, so must be the details of our recovery.

However, I will say that as I was going through Step 7, I figured it was impossible to hand over all my weaknesses to God. I figured I could never actually do this step. It felt like to me that the step was asking me to become perfect, all in one step. Without weaknesses, I am perfect, right? And it was asking me to ask God to remove my character weaknesses. All of them. And so I knew I had to actually give them up.

In Step 6, I had written down a few of my key weaknesses. In Step 6, I had truly become ready to give them up. But when I got to Step 7, and it came time to follow through, I changed my mind. I'm not ready! I can't do this! And I ran and retreated and hid and slipped. And I felt exposed and weak- so weak.

Finally, I convinced myself to trudge through. I convinced myself to believe that if I did the work, God would help me. And so I read. I wrote. I prayed. I thought. Still, a block was in place. I couldn't see myself ever truly giving up all my character weaknesses, let alone in one fell swoop! It seemed too much. But, I moved forward.

Just when I thought it would never really come to me; that I would never get Step 7, suddenly, I did. Suddenly, I remembered that God can help me. Suddenly I remembered that my Heavenly Father wants to help me. Suddenly I knew that if I took all of my weaknesses, bundled them up, and placed them on an alter, and asked God to take them, then He just might. And if He didn't, then He would help me and go with me as I did what I could to remove them myself.

So I fell to my knees and I told Heavenly Father the list of weaknesses I had written down in Step 6, and I told Him that I had these weaknesses before me, and I wanted to give them up. And I asked Him to please, please take them!

Since that day 2.5 weeks ago, I have not given into the pull of some of those weaknesses. He has truly helped me and strengthened me. Sometimes, when I have been tempted to return to an old behavior, I tell myself, "no, I gave that to God." and it goes away.

It's remarkable!

Some of the weaknesses, though, remain with me daily. I know that with practice, they will also become memories. And that is very exciting!

And, the miracle continues. As I carefully travel each day's paths, I sometimes come to realize other weaknesses. And I practice what I did in Step 7, I get it ready to give to God, and I ask Him to take it from me.

It makes me think that maybe I can do this, after all.

Now I have Step 8 looming in front of me. Sigh. "Make a written list of all persons you have harmed and become willing to make restitution to them." Step 8 is going to be difficult for me because as far as I know, besides my kids, I haven't harmed anyone directly as a result of my addiction. I know that sounds prideful, and it probably is. This addiction is very quiet. It's not like alcohol or drugs in that I can hide it. After using, I don't lose a great deal of judgement and go on angry rampages. I can drive safely after using. I'm not married so I'm not hurting a spouse. I'm not trying to make excuses, here. I know that Heavenly Father will help me with this step, as He has with each previous step, and that I will figure out an honest and thorough way to complete this step.

In other news, I'm determined to return to the temple. I don't know how long it will be, but it doesn't matter- I'll do whatever it takes. I'm going back. I miss it terribly.

Also, I have started counseling again! My therapist is incredible, and the best match I've had yet. I'm learning a lot. I figured with my last slips that I wasn't as healed as I thought I was. I thought I needed some guidance into my own self, and I think that's exactly what I'm getting. I'm so grateful for a means to pay for the sessions.

I'm excited to continue forward. I'm grateful for the return of that enthusiasm. I know that I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.