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. 

If Only For You

I was on my knees this morning, opening the day with prayer. I was talking to my Father about how wonderful it is that, even with the dark sins of my past, even with my addictions, that I can return to Him, all because and only because of His Son and my Savior. I talked to Him about how, when so many of His children repent- turn back to Him and away from sin- it must be worth it to have sent His Son to save us all, for the Father to have witnessed His inexplicable suffering. It must have been worth it to the Father to see the Son's pain when, because of His Son's pain, many will return, have returned, are returning. Because the Atonement has saved, is saving, and will save so many of us, it must have been worth it to the Father to allow His Son to suffer and carry such heavy burdens of all the world.

My point was, in that moment in prayer, to illustrate that because of the many who will live with the Father, the Atonement of Jesus was worthwhile to the Father.

As I said these words to Him, He interrupted, and before I could finish my sentence, my heart felt this message, as clearly as if it were spoken:

"But, Stephanie, it would be worth it if only for you. If you were the only one who repented and gained access into my Kingdom, all the suffering of my Son would have been worthwhile."

It is incomprehensible that I should mean so much to a God. But I believe it. A few years ago, I saw, on a local church's billboard, this message: "God loves each of us like there's only one of us." It's stuck with me all these years, and I believe it.

What an incredible tender mercy to have experienced this morning. Happy Sabbath.

The Vanilla Deception

Vanilla. You open it up and breathe in its delicious fumes. Oh, so good! You can practically taste it! But you know that you're not tasting it, because it tastes pretty gross.


I was the kid who was more curious than smart, who touched the burner after Mom said, "Don't touch the burner; it's hot!" I really did, and it was hot, and I got burned. Later, Mom said, "Don't put metal into a light socket; you'll get burned." So, one day, I deliberately straightened the top part of a wire hanger and inserted that baby into a light socket. The result: pain, blackness on the wall surrounding the light socket, and a satisfied mind. Oh. Mom was right. Another time, Mom said "Vanilla smells good, but it tastes awful," when we were baking, after I asked if I could taste the vanilla. I waited till she wasn't around, climbed up on the counter, got the vanilla out of the cupboard, opened it, smelled it and wondered, "how can anything that smells so sweet taste bad?"

I did not think about the time Mom was right about the burner. I did not think about the time Mom was right about the light socket. I did not think about how Mom never lied to me. I just drank it. A big gulp.

It was disgusting.

Mom wins again.

I look back and wonder, why didn't I trust her? She'd been right before. The vanilla wasn't particularly damaging or dangerous, as previous incidents had been. But the other incidents had no other appeal besides Mom saying don't do it. The vanilla, however, smelled so good.

Satan makes sin smell like vanilla. Right? I mean pornography (or whatever your addiction, if applicable) is SO appealing! The IDEA, in the right circumstances, is wildly appealing. It smells like vanilla. And it has such a strong, strong smell, that you feel like you just HAVE to taste it, because how can it possibly taste bad when it smells so good? And somehow, in those moments, I forget how sour it was the last time I tasted it, and I can only think of how great of an idea it seems to be. So, I chug the vanilla again, and remember too late why I said "I'll never taste this again!" last time I tasted it.

Heavenly Father has warned us through prophets to avoid pornography! But Satan makes it appealing. Like Vanilla. It seems like it's going to be so great, and fulfill your expectations, but then when you drink it, it's awful.

My 9-year-old daughter was baking with me the other day. I let her smell the vanilla. I asked her if she wanted to taste it. She said, "no, Mom, you told me it tastes bad."

I was impressed and admittedly baffled by her trust. I told her a little won't hurt (holy cow, I'm such a pusher!) and she could taste it if she wanted. She still refused. She trusted me. Even with the sweet smell of vanilla beneath her nose, she trusted me.

I'm so grateful she is stronger and smarter than I am. I am grateful for her example! I hope that the next time my favorite sins beckon to me, that I can remember my sweet daughter's example. Even if the sweet smell is directly under my nose, I hope that I can say, "No. I trust Heavenly Father. He has told me this will taste horrible, and make me feel awful. I trust Him."

I don't want to be that kid anymore, that kid who touches the burner after Mom says not to. I don't want to be more curious than I am smart. I don't want to disregard the Spirit's warnings, in interest of finding out for myself, any longer.

I'm so grateful for the Atonement of my loving Brother! I can be forgiven! I can go Home! I can gain the strength to say no to sweet-smelling sins.