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.

I'm Almost Certain I Won't Slip Again

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

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

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

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

Or, perhaps, it's something more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When Serenity is Scary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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. 

My Struggle With Belief

The title is deceiving, as it implies my struggle has ended. More accurately, it's ending.

The past few months have been beautiful and strange. I have been blessed beyond comprehension by the love of people around me! I have been spoiled with love and gifts by "Secret Santas" and friends and family. It has been humbling to see myself and my family as loved and thought of. We had a blessed Christmas and entire month of December.

Through it all, and despite it all, I have been slowly taking back the reigns from God. "I got this," type-thing. "You've done enough. I can take it from here." As it happens, I've already written a blog post about my latest slip! It's here. Seriously, this is exactly what happened again. I tried to essentially tell God and myself that I didn't need Him.

But, this time, it was a little more complicated. I had doubt mixed in with it all. I was beginning to question basically everything, especially the Church.

How can I support an organization when I disagree with so much of its culture?
How can it be the true church when President Uchtdorf himself said it was imperfect?
How can I let my kids grow up in this church when I know it will teach them some wrong things?
How could a baby be born to virgin, really?
How could one semi-mortal suffer and die for all mankind?
How can God hear my prayers when millions of children are praying as well?
Would the quality and happiness of my life really decrease if I left the Church?

And on and on. It seemed to me that I could be just as happy outside the Church. It seemed to me that I could teach my kids better than the Church could. It seemed to me that there were too many policies that made me scratch my head, and too many cultural falsehoods in the Church that worried me for my children. I knew I couldn't catch every false thing they may learn in primary classes or YW/YM classes.

Interestingly, and ironically, the prison program my choir recently did was all about belief. The theme was "Be Believing." The speaking parts were personal stories from the choir members, stories of how belief and hope had affected them in their lives. I shared my own story! I shared this:

"For over ten years, I struggled with a dark addiction. It ate my life away, moment by moment. I was overcome with the core beliefs that I had no worth, that the Savior atoned for everyone but me, that I wasn't good enough to conquer addiction, that I would never be worthy, that I DIDN'T MATTER. I didn't believe that Jesus would do what He said He will do- not for me. Addiction was, at times, my own personal heaven, but more often, it was my own personal hell.

I tried everything to make myself quit. I tried telling myself "this is the last time." I tried punishing myself. I tried will power. I tried prayer and fasting and reading articles about addiction recovery. I tried meetings. I still found myself in my favorite trap. Finally, I made a conscious decision to BELIEVE. It was the only thing I hadn't tried yet. I decided to believe that not only CAN Jesus Christ heal, like He said He can heal, but that He WILL. I finally decided to trust that not only WILL He, but He will for ME.

Since then, the road out of addiction has been difficult, and I have wanted to give up more than once. But I have gained a testimony that belief is a powerful tool. I have found that when I make one timid step in faith, Jesus carries me a hundred steps. I still have a long way to go, but I no longer dare doubt that I can and will be free of addiction."

I seriously told that to people in four prisons and two firesides! I wasn't even paying attention to what I was saying, because in my very testimony were the answers I thought I couldn't find! I even wrote a song for this program, a song about believing. My favorite lines are these:

For when I pay attention, Your hands are on my face

You wipe my tears and heal me with Your grace!

I wasn't paying attention to my testimony about paying attention!

I thought about my addiction, especially after my slip, in relation to the Church. I knew I didn't need the Church to help me continue my recovery. I wasn't ready to give up believing I needed God, because I couldn't deny that trusting in God was what had ever led me to success; led me away from the grip of my addiction. However, I did recall reading some articles of some people recovering without God, so I knew that was possible, too.

I thought of my friends who have left the Church. I thought about how happy and wonderful they are. 

I kinda stopped reading my scriptures. If I read them at all, it was without faith. I didn't really take my doubts to God. But, He guided me anyway. He guided my thoughts and I decided that I had some commitments to the Church. I had made covenants and promises and I owed it to God and to the Church to honor those commitments first. I recalled my marriage, when I was so deeply hurt when my husband went to his girlfriend to tell her about our marital issues. I wanted him to talk to me, not her, but he didn't give me a chance. I figured I owed the Church a chance. I had spent my life believing and loving it, and I owed it a chance. I decided I wouldn't go outside the Church for information or validation till I first went to it.

So, I never looked outside for validation. Not once. I know I could find a million blogs and forums that were anti-Mormon and some that were respectful of Mormonism but had secular answers to my questions that would entice me away from the Church. I knew I could find any of that, and I was ready to seek it after first talking to God, and first giving the Church a chance.

Since Christmas Day, I have been choosing to exercise a little bit of faith, little by little. It has been rewarded, little by little. A soft whisper to my heart here, a message from another person there. Finally, today, I decided to listen to my testimony I'd given to many of Idaho's inmates: "I found that when I take one timid step in faith, Jesus carries me a hundred steps." I decided I would step forward in faith. I feel like I've lost some ground, honestly, but I took that tiny step in faith. And you know what?

He carried me.

He answered my prayer.

Here are some truths that slipped my mind for a short while:

I never had success with abstinence-- NEVER!-- till I let Jesus in and believed Him.
I am happy when I follow the principles I have learned in the Church.
I experience peace and joy when I follow the teachings I have learned in the Church
I love the Book of Mormon, and when I abide by its precepts, I am nearer to God than ever.
I love the Church! Imperfections and questionable cultures and all, I love this Church!
I love believing. Believing fills my heart. 

I'm back to believing. I'm okay with the church not being perfect. In fact, I like that it's not perfect and that I don't have to expect it to be.

I don't fault myself for questioning. In fact, I hope my children ask questions. I hope they question everything. I hope they do experiments to find out the truth. Whatever they find to be true, I will honor and support. Which reminds me of something. If someone comes to you with questions and doubts about the Church, I hope you will not respond with judgement and lecture. I hope you will not respond with finger-wagging, scripture-wielding sermons. I hope, instead, you will respond with love-- SO MUCH LOVE! We've all had questions, haven't we? Instead of "Wo unto you!" maybe respond with the story in the Bible about when the disciples were in a boat with Jesus, and when the storm got crazy, they freaked out, even though JESUS WAS IN THE BOAT WITH THEM! Jesus is not even in the boat, physically, with me, so I'm in pretty good company when I question His power. You know? Maybe respond with "I've been there, with the questions. I allowed myself time to find the answers and ended up where I am now," or, "I trust you. Whatever you decide is right, I will support." Please don't respond with things like, "Anyone who leaves the Church just doesn't see the truth," or, "everyone I know who questioned the Church just wanted to sin and do things their way and not God's way."

Also, even though I've learned these lessons more than once in life, it's still natural to have questions. It's still natural to need reassurance every now and then. God is ever-willing to give it!

Anyway. I hope that whenever we are approached by a loved one or an acquaintance with doubts and questions, that we'll respond with love and with a willingness to accept without judgement whatever their ultimate choice may be. Questions and doubts are not the mark of a weak person, but of a person, and perhaps, a wise person.

I am grateful to be a part of a Church that honors agency. I'm grateful to live in a country that allows personal, chosen worship. I know God lives, and I know He loves me.

Onward!

A Culture of Shame

It's Christmas. Merry Christmas! I always seem to ruin my streaks on important days like birthdays. Or Christmas.

Here we go, day one. :(

I'm not really in the mood to look on the bright side. I'm not really in the mood to wallow, either. I guess I feel a little numb. I know this will soon pass- maybe after I sleep some. Then I'll be sad.

When I slip, I usually go through 2 opposite stages of blame. First, I try to blame everyone and everything else but myself. Then, I try to put 100% of the blame on myself. In truth, the responsibility is mine, but a great many factors contribute to my weakness. I don't get to claim 100% of the blame. For example:

I grew up in a sex- and body-shaming culture. From my early years in Young Women's, I remember noticing the double standards. The girls couldn't wear shorts to midweek church activities, but the boys could. I remember thinking how unfair it was. Now, I think it's dangerous. It reinforces society's lies that women control men's behavior by what they wear. It says, girls have to be more covered than boys, and suggests that the reason behind that is that boys can't control themselves unless girls are covered. This reveals a myriad of lies. Only, they don't seem like lies. They seem like truths because we're so accustomed to them. One of those lies is the stupid, stupid cliche/excuse: "men are visual." Well, okay, that's like saying "male birds fly." UM, HELLO! ALL birds fly! Some fly higher than others, sure, but it's not that male birds fly higher than female birds. ALL HUMANS ARE VISUAL, those who have eyes that see. Every time someone says "men are visual," I want to go on a tangent. Are more men more visual than women? Maybe. Who knows! But I'll tell you what I do know- of all my Facebook friends, it is my female friends who are FAR more likely to post an inappropriate picture of a man. I have probably only seen one or two inappropriate pictures of women posted by my male Facebook friends. But, definitely weekly and probably daily, I see some picture of mostly nude firemen, or a provocative picture of a popular male celebrity, etc., posted by my female friends. Common comments include, "yummy," and "I'm going to set my house on fire," and "I want one." Like a man is a thing to have, or to eat. And yet, when people say "men are visual," it implies that women are not. And I'm here to tell you that is a lie and an excuse. When I was a teenager, I had a picture of my crush (Dean Cain, if you must know) on my wall, but my brothers had no pictures of women on their walls. And, somehow, it would have been wrong if they did, but it was okay that I did. It's that stupid lie we keep feeding, the lie that women are not visual; are not stimulated visually.

This is a lie that is dangerous for both sexes. If I am visually stimulated, then I might think something is terribly wrong with me, because I have been taught all my life that men are visual. Enter: shame. That useless, crippling enemy. If a man reacts inappropriately (i.e. touching, or saying something degrading) to a sexually attractive woman, then perhaps this cultural lie will convince him that he has done nothing wrong; he is visual, after all. Enter: rape culture.

Our culture teaches this. Especially our Church culture teaches this. Not too long ago, Elizabeth Smart said this: “I remember in school one time, I had a teacher who was talking about abstinence,” Smart told the panel. “And she said, ‘Imagine you’re a stick of gum. When you engage in sex, that’s like getting chewed. And if you do that lots of times, you’re going to become an old piece of gum, and who is going to want you after that?’ Well, that’s terrible. No one should ever say that. But for me, I thought, ‘I’m that chewed-up piece of gum.’ Nobody re-chews a piece of gum. You throw it away. And that’s how easy it is to feel you no longer have worth. Your life no longer has value.”

I have a similar memory, only it was not a school teacher, but a Sunday School teacher, from when I was about 16. The topic was chastity. Our teacher brought in a piece of homemade bread and spread jam on it. He asked if anyone wanted the bread with jam. Mostly everyone rose their hands. Then he licked the jam right off the bread. It made the remaining jam all gooey and gross. He asked "who wants it now?" The answer was nobody, and the connection was that NOBODY will want someone who's slept with someone else. I believed that- I believed it with my whole core. I believed that lie.

In church, as Young Women, we were taught that sex before marriage (not even sex outside marriage, but specifically sex before marriage) was the worst thing you could ever do. Guilt, guilt, guilt. Pre-guilt. I hadn't even held hands with a boy and I felt guilty. Those lessons would go on an on about how horrible sexual sin is, and then as a closing breath, a mention might go to the Atonement. Someone might say that forgiveness would always be available. I don't actually remember anyone saying that, but someone must have. I only remember the "don't, don't, don't." "bad, bad, bad."

So when I had sex for the first time, I was in college and definitely not married. I bled a little, and knowing almost nothing about sex, I was sure I was dying. I had sinned the worst sin ever, and now God was killing me as punishment. What could I do? I couldn't call my mother and ask what was happening with my body. I couldn't ask a doctor- they would know! Shame. Shame has no place in repentance.

If only I'd known!! If only I'd known I hadn't damned myself for eternity! If only I'd known I wasn't beyond hope, beyond love, beyond healing. If I'd known, If I'd even supposed that I had some worth, then maybe I wouldn't have continued a physical relationship with my college boyfriend, especially those times I didn't want it. Maybe I would have had the courage to stand up for myself. Maybe, if I hadn't been taught that shame was right, things would have turned out differently for me.

In fact, I know they would have. If I hadn't been so weighted down by shame, I could have seen my worth. I could have seen my potential. I could have seen a light. Shame did nothing for me but make me believe I was a horrible person who deserved bad things.

Yet, social culture and church culture are cultures of shame, especially of shame to women. There is a delicate balance here, and I get that. No one wants our kids to make harmful choices without fear of consequence. But, you know what I say? Let the consequence follow. No need to add shame to it, which will only and can only worsen the outcome. I know we all want our kids to grow up and make best choices all the time, so we may be a bit heavy-handed on the negative consequences of sin and poor judgment. But, we seem to leave out the most important part. We seem to fail to let our children know that Jesus loves unconditionally. We seem to fail to mention that "if you do these things that are sins before God, there is a way back. You are still loved. You are still worthy of love. You have lost no worth whatsoever." We fail to instill confidence in our youth out of fear that if we tell them they'll be just fine even if they make mistakes, then they'll make them.

Here's the thing. They'll make those mistakes anyway. And if we tell them they are worthy and lovable always, and redeemed, then they'll turn back to good choices much sooner than if they believed their mistakes make them worthless. They'll find happiness. They'll learn to face their problems rather than running away and hiding in shame.

At least, that's how it would have been for me.

I was so afraid I'd make mistakes that I made them. I was so ashamed that I made them, that I made them again. And again and again. I ran because I was ashamed because I was taught to be ashamed. Enter: addiction.

I am not absolving myself of responsibility. I am 32 years old. I have been an "adult" for 14 years now. I make my every day choices. I am responsible for my every every-day choice. I know that.

On the other hand, how we are raised is ingrained in us. What we are taught in our early years stays with us forever, even if they are lies. I am responsible for my sins and my choices, but let's put blame where blame is due. The culture of shame definitely contributed to my addictions, to my false perception of my self-worth, to my fear of facing my problems rather than running from them.

I hope to teach my children quite the opposite of what Society teaches them. I hate shame. I hate that I grew up with it before I even did anything really wrong. I hate that it came for a visit tonight. Shame is Marsha.

So what do we do? How do we teach our kids the importance and beauty of chastity without creating this great, dark cloud of shame? I don't know, but I'm going to focus on the good and hope that works. That's my plan for now. "Look, kids, it's going to be so hard to keep your hands and your eyes and your bodies to yourselves as you get older. I get it. I know it. But, it's so amazing when you can respect other people's bodies as well as your own. You gain so much power that way. I hope you will wait till you're married." And I'll tell them all the scriptural reasons why. And I will make sure to add, "no matter what happens, I will always love you. I will always be here for you. You can talk to me about anything. There is nothing you can do that will ever make me love you less. And God loves you even more."

Confidence instead of shame.

Oh, and P.S., I don't mean to condemn the Church. I love the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It's not perfect. Sometimes, the leaders make bad choices- even the upper leaders. Sometimes, this wonderful but imperfect church is straight-up wrong. Like when it perpetuates this culture of shame. There is a line between culture and doctrine, and while I disagree with some of its culture and question some of its policies, I love the gospel. Living it is what brings me joy.

Volleyball Shoes on the 21st Day: Get Your Feet Right

My bishop, two bishops ago, told me an analogy that made so much sense to me. I don't remember if he gave this story in a talk, or if he told me directly, but it doesn't matter- the message was meant for me (probably not only me, of course).

He talked about how he used to be a volleyball coach, and he said sometimes the girls would send the ball flying erratically over the net. They thought their aim had been good, but the ball didn't go where they wanted it to go because their feet weren't right. He said that when they finally learned to get their feet pointed in the right direction, with practice, the ball would begin to fall where they intended it to fall. So he would work with their feet more than with their aim and swing.

I'm very uninterested in sports. They bore me. But, they seem to be easy to relate to life in many ways!

The bishop likened that story to life. He said sometimes we aim and get it all wrong. We try and fail. But if our feet our pointed in the right direction (i.e. to God), then we'll eventually do other things right as well and that ball will stop landing out of bounds. When our feet are right, our swing will eventually improve, and everything else will fall into place.

He must have been talking to me directly about this, because now I remember him saying that as long as I kept doing what I was doing- reading scriptures, praying, attending my meetings, having FHE- then eventually everything else would fall into place. Eventually, I would aim and the ball wouldn't land in a pit of sin. I took that to heart and never forgot it.

For me, recovery has taken a very long time, but my bishop was right. Through continued scripture reading, prayer, and meeting attendance, I finally learned about the Addiction Recovery Program. My ball was still flying erratically about, landing in muddy areas, never doing what I wanted it to do, but I kept doing those things I knew were right. Slowly, so slowly, I gained access to new tools, new friends who would support me, new courage, new strength. I kept my feet right, and slowly, the ball would land in safer areas.

Obviously, since I'm only 3 weeks out of my last slip, I haven't quite gotten the hang of my swing. But, my feet are straight, and my swing is so much better. I haven't given up. I'm learning and growing and hoping and repenting, my feet ever pointing to the Savior, and I know that my swing will follow. I know that it is following.

I remember a time not so long ago when 3 weeks of abstinence was impossible. Recovery is a miracle! But it's possible for anyone of us, because Jesus is the Savior to everyone of us.

So, if progress is the name of the game (and it is), then I'm winning. Even so, I'm pretty bad at volleyball.