Giving up Perfect

One of my many false beliefs is that in order for me to be good enough, I have to be the best. If I'm not the best mom, I'm not good enough. If I'm not the best employee, I'm not good enough. If I'm not the best student, I'm not good enough- the best friend, best Mormon, best woman, best everything. In my early teens, I was the best pianist in most of my groups. It helped me feel good enough. And being the best = good enough = perfect, in my head. But, the older I got, the more pianists I met, and I was almost never the best. If I wasn't the best pianist, I figured my talent was good for nothing. If someone else has it, better than I do, what does it matter if I know how to play?

This concept, certainly, would have been a foreign one:

I am aware of it, now. I am becoming aware of how it is based in pride and fear. I am becoming aware of how it damages myself and others. Somehow, in my mind, being the best means being perfect. And I must be perfect! And being perfect means being the best. And being anything other than perfect means being a total failure. Why am I this way?!

Recently, something in my head clicked. I have been defining perfection all wrong all this time. Perfect has meant a clean house; always happy kids; no addiction slips; being esteemed highly by all around me, all the time; flawlessness as an employee; the best at my calling; the favorite everywhere; thin; all the time knowledgeable; wise- ETC. I felt like I had to be ALL the good things, ALL the time, but even beyond that, that everyone had to believe that I was doing all the good things all the time. 

I shake my head at myself, but I try to remember self-love because these thinking errors are so hard to identify and even harder to change. 

But, now, perfect means something different. We are commanded to be perfect, but whose version of perfect? Certainly not mine! My version of perfect is all screwed up. And the commandment says, "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." It doesn't say, "Be ye perfect even as you define perfect." And when you think about it, how IS our Father perfect? He is perfect but He is not here, on Earth, in mortality. He is not living in this test of life, with a veiled memory of Eternity, with Satan and conspiring men and women calling Him in every which way. I can't be perfect as He is perfect while I'm here, can I? Because He's not. 

Anyway, I have been stressing at work because I'm something like number 7 on our team of 14, and that has been highly unacceptable in the past. But yesterday at work, I suddenly decided to let it go. It means nothing. My ranking means nothing in the Eternal scheme of things. It doesn't tell me my worth- not accurately, anyway. 

And, that's a real part of it. I have been attaching my worth to all these ridiculous things. If my house is clean, then I am worthy of love/acceptance/companionship. If I am number 1 at work, then I am worthy. If my primary kids learn all the songs perfectly the first try, then I am worthy. If I never yell at my kids, then I am worthy. If I never have an inappropriate thought, then I am worthy. If my yard looks nice, then I am worthy. If my friends agree with all my opinions, then I am worthy. If I lose weight, if I drive well, if I write a smash hit song, if I am admired, if I finish the 12 steps, if, if, if, if, if! These "if-thens" are absolute lies, and I have been buying into them for years! And the liberation that comes with understanding that they are lies is difficult to explain. 

My version of "perfect" is false. And I couldn't be happier about that. The pressure that night at work fled off my shoulders in a hurry, and I just focused on what I could do in that moment to do my job well. My house is a disaster but that doesn't mean I have no worth. Wait, what? 

It's clicking. I'm so grateful it's clicking, because holding myself to impossible standards has been pretty awful. And now that I know the truth, or some of it, I don't have to do that anymore. I don't have to be my version of perfect anymore in order to claim worth.

I'm breaking through perfection. It was holding me back in a severe way. It was crushing me and I was using it as a tool of punishment. Well, I don't get to do that anymore. I don't get to punish myself with my false standards. 

I think I still have a lot about this topic I need to work out. I think it's time for a therapy appointment. 

I hope I make at least a little bit of sense!

I'm the Gardener, Here

You ever wonder what in the blazes is God doing with you?

I do. I wonder it every day, these days. Because every day, my life is wildly uncomfortable. I'm in a place which I don't remotely enjoy (my work shift that keeps me from my kids). I want out. Bad.

How bad? I don't know if I want out bad enough to actually do something about it. But, I am becoming increasingly suspicious that perhaps God is intending to use this situation to push me into something greater for my family-- for my happiness.

I don't know. I'm confused about all this. But, when I really think of it, standing idly by and waiting for God to teach me what I'm supposed to learn from all this doesn't sound as much of a good idea as actually working for it. I want out! I think Heavenly Father, who knows me well, knew I would be going stark, raving mad by this shift. And maybe His purpose in this is something far different than I primarily imagined. Maybe He's pushing me to get myself (with His help) out, rather than waiting for it to end.

I gotta get out. I want out. Bad. I feel imprisoned - stuck - and utterly useless. My children need me, and that became as evident as it ever will be tonight. I can't just idly sit and let this trial happen. I will if I must, but I think and I hope that I mustn't.

I'm reminded of one of my Uncle Steve's favorite analogies. He would repeat it often to me. The author is Hugh B Brown, and he talks about a current bush.

He starts off by saying-- well, I'll let him tell you. I found this delightful rendition on YouTube. Take a listen:

"I'm the gardener, here." Okay, Lord. Let me be satisfied with Your will. Cut me down the way that will make me the most glorious and useful to You.

When I Try to be my Own Jesus

So much for writing daily! oh well.

Through my several years of addiction recovery, I have learned many important lessons. Many of these lessons have been engraved in my heart, never to be forgotten. Many of them reside in my heart most of the time. There is one, however, that repeats itself over and over again. It is crippling! Not that lesson, of course, but that I haven't learned it yet.

I am not Jesus!

How often I try to be my own Jesus. When I look back on my most recent slips, there are a few common themes: Stress, fear, and a desire to, and a belief that I can, save myself. 

I come to believe that I am powerful enough to overcome my hardships alone. I come to believe that I can rely on my own self to make it through moments of temptation. I come to believe that I am in charge. I got this. I did this. I'm doing this. It's my job.

I put a lot of responsibility on my shoulders when I get that way. No wonder I get stressed!

I have written about this before, once in 2012 and once last year. I hope I really learn it soon.

Some ways that I try to take Jesus's power away from Him are:

Beating myself up. When I abuse myself emotionally, especially following a slip, it's because I feel like I "deserve" to be punished. Well, that's not my job to decide! My job is to get up, repent, and move forward. When I take the reigns of punishment, I take Jesus's job. The chastisement of my peace is upon Him. Not me. He tells us to repent. He doesn't tell us to destroy ourselves with unkindness. When I beat myself up, and try to tell myself how I'm supposed to feel, I am not able to sincerely repent anyway. I can't feel godly sorrow when I'm making up my own version of sorrow.

Ignoring the Spirit. The day I slipped last, almost two weeks ago, was the day that I was going to go to the temple. I knew I needed to go. I knew, even, that I was supposed to go. I had planned to go that day for a week or so, but that day came and I was tired and I wanted to sleep in. I said to myself, "I'll go Thursday instead." and a teeny, tiny but perceptible voice warned me "you might slip before then" and I said, "Please. I can make it two days. I know I can. Of course I can!" and then the voice nudged me. And I nudged it back. "I got this." I can't say that I would have avoided the slip had I attended the temple. But, as my bishop kindly but firmly reminded me today, I would have been strengthened. I would have been strengthened by obedience to the Spirit, and by the sweet spirit and peace I would have experienced in the temple. And maybe it would have been strength sufficient to offer awareness of what was really coming at me Tuesday night, and I could have fought it.

Slacking in the Little Things. When I put off reading the scriptures, attending the temple, having FHE; when I don't prepare for my calling, pray with sincerity, have family scriptures; when I avoid Visiting Teaching because I don't really love it-- when I slack off in these easy but monumentally important things, I am essentially telling God, "I don't need You." "I can do this on my own."

I got this.

It's strange to me how readily and easily I reject being saved. When I surrender, and when I give myself to my Father, that's when I feel amazing. That's when I am confident, and powerful, and capable, and secure, and happy. There is nowhere warmer or safer than in the arms of Jesus. Why am I so easily distracted from that sweet security by things of the world? I need to amp up my faith. My bishop reminded me today that if I have faith, I will be given strength, and I can have the Priesthood power to make it through any time temptation or trial.

Why should I insist on saving myself when I have Jesus?

I pray that Heavenly Father will teach me to truly learn this lesson. I know that if I don't, I will continue to struggle, continue to slip. The moment I depend on myself is the moment I, mockingly, step away from my Savior, and if I continue on that self reliant path, I will slip again. I'm a little scared about that because I know myself. I know I will cease to trust God and once again put my trust in myself. I hope and pray that I catch it in time to avoid the pit that awaits me.

I feel like beyond this great wall of pride is a freedom I've never known.

When I look back on my months-long period of doubt, I see so much humanism! So much self-reliance! (there is a very good kind of self-reliance, and a very damaging kind of self-reliance.) This is a serious problem and I really, really think I need help overcoming it.

Oh, happy Easter, Friends. This is the commemoration of the most important, sacred, holy day in all of history! Jesus is risen! He lives, He is my Savior- not me. He earned that title- not me. And because He rose from the grave after the darkest nights of the world, we can also rise from our trials and sins into triumph and glory and eternal life! What a beautiful day. How I love my Jesus!

Control, Control, Control

I want control. I want to be in control. When I feel like I am not in control, I freak out and write posts like yesterday's. I want to control everything in my life. When my need for control is this high, trusting God seems impossible. Trusting God means relinquishing my illusion of control over to Him.

Even as I write that, I feel my blood pressure rising. NO! I must have the control!

It's funny because I never have control. I never had it. I never can! This is not my world. This is God's world. I wish my life to be God's life. I wish to turn myself entirely over to Him.

Even as I write that, a calm comes over me, and I exhale peacefully.

I have been frantically trying to control everything at work so that I can control what my next shift will be so that I can more easily control my life and be home with my kids when I want to be. Because then my illusion of control will be more believable. I'll think I have some. I'll think that it's because of my awesomeness that I have a great shift. It's because of my needs as a single mom that I am home with them. I got this. I did this.

When I was in the prisons on Sunday, I was panicking because our escorts weren't there when I wanted them to be. We were going to be late! Then there were two surprise speakers at our first prison when we were supposed to be the only part of the program. I panicked because they weren't on MY agenda. This was going to ruin everything. At the 2nd prison, it seemed to take forever to get prepared (we had to wait for the rotation and it seemed to be taking a lot of time), and I panicked about time. Again. At the 3rd prison, it took also forever to get prepared and I remembered that at Christmastime, this prison was the one that is super finicky about time so we had to get started straight away. And the inmate choir director kept talking to me about getting them music for the Christmas program and I didn't really know how to make a decision and anyway, while we were doing our program, during the 2nd song which was a solo, I was looking out at all the offenders and suddenly this calm came over me. Suddenly I realized, this is not my program. This is not my choir. I'm here because God wants us here and because He loves these offenders so much. This isn't about me. I realized I needed to stop trying to control it. And I gave the rest of the day to Him. And I sat back and enjoyed the program, enjoyed the choir, without worrying about what is going to happen next. And I felt a Heavenly nudge to apply this thought to my life. I need to stop trying to control it! I can't anyway. I can make the best choices I know how. I can be the best mother I know how. I can forgive myself, and move forward every day. But even my best efforts cannot, will not, create the life I think I want.

Whatever happens today at work is what happens today at work. This is not my world. I will not fear because I don't need to. Oh, God, let me keep this reassurance throughout this day, especially at work!

Besides that, it's not what I do at work that matters most. It's what I do at home. And I've been really doing better at home, as a parent, as a responsible adult.

Addiction is an illusion of control. I don't mean the addiction itself. But when I rush to pornography, masturbation, food, kissing, Pepsi, Facebook, etc., it's because I'm afraid of real life. It's because something in real life has threatened my sense of control. And if I can't control real life, then I'm going to do something I can control. My addictive behaviors do give me a momentary sense of control. When life is crazy, I feel like I can calm it down with anything on the above list. But, I logically understand that the opposite is true. Those behaviors make my life even more unmanageable and quickly get totally out of my control.

Control itself is simply an illusion. I hope to soon understand that with my heart.

Do You Have the Time to Listen to me Whine

No one likes a whiner but I'm so . . . AUGH . . . that if I write at all, it will be in complaint. And I'm writing. So I complain.

I have this new crappy shift. I see my kids in the morning before school every day and that's it. They're in bed before I get home. I can't even explain how much I hate it. It's just unfair. Duh, why couldn't my sweet babies have been born to someone else who could give them a way better life? Because a life where you hardly see your mother is a life that sucks a little bit, and a life where you hardly see your kids is a life that sucks a lot.

I try every day- I really do!- to tighten my britches and have a good attitude. I spend my mornings missing my kids and trying to figure out what God wants me to do. I'm getting better at managing my time, too. Then I go to work and totally believe I'm going to rock, I'm going to have short calls, get sales, blah blah blah. But instead, inevitably, I have a horrible day. We have all these metrics that we're supposed to meet, and up to this month, I have met most of those metrics without effort. This month I might be meeting one of them. My performance is worse than it has ever been since I got hired, and, let me tell ya, it's not for lack of trying. I have put in more effort than ever because it is sooooo so so so important for me to get a day shift so I can see my kids again, and that depends on performance. At this rate, I will never ever ever get off the night shift. Ever. And I can't make sense of it. How can all the the things that came to me easily, consistently, over the past several months, suddenly not come to be at all? How can my effort yield horrible results? EVERY SINGLE DAY?

Every night on my drive home I cry. I miss my kids so much and because of my scores I will continue to have to miss them. I try so hard and for what? I'm so tired of putting out so much effort and getting the opposite of what I should get in return.

I thought this was a trial God wants me to endure, and I think I maybe still think that, but even though it's not death or severe illness or a real trial, it's too hard for me and I can't handle it. I wanted so badly to endure it well, to show Heavenly Father that I can make it, and make it with a grateful smile, but we're only just over 2 weeks into this and I already feel like crumbling. I already can't breathe. It's already too much.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. That's what I keep telling myself. Maybe one of these days it will be true.

On the other hand, I have been doing a dang good job of turning to God during this, instead of running to my easy places of coping. I do feel that He has been blessing me with strength.

The Only Answer is Trust

I will see my bishop on Sunday, and then I will confess my latest slip. I imagined the scenario today. I imagined what I would tell him. I wondered if he would be weary by now of my confessions. "Me again. Yep- did it again. So." How many times have I gone to him in confession? I don't even know. So many.

He is kind and full of grace. I know he will be kind again. Sometimes I think it will be the last time I get forgiveness and he'll say, "you're excommunicated. You've slipped one too many times. Sorry. See you in a few years if you can make it." Sometimes I get a little scared but I go anyway, and that never happens. Only mercy happens. Only encouragement happens.

I figured maybe he'll ask me what happened that led me to this. I figured I'll tell him my plans for the future to stay away. But I see him so frequently- WHAT IS THE ANSWER?! What is the answer, the cure? 

I think there is only one. I think it's trust. When I trust my God, fully, I don't freak out, I don't lose hope, I don't emotionally abuse myself, and I don't leave myself open for Satan's jabs. When I trust God, fully, I have peace. I have serenity. And when I'm in a place of peace and serenity, I am strong, I'm a freaking rock. Nothing, in that place, can pull me down. 

The only answer is trust. The hardest answer is trust.

Oh, God, teach me to trust!

The Miracle of the Atonement

I need to post daily but I don't know what to write about tonight so I'm going to post one of my favorite conference talks of all time. This talk was given just a few weeks after I attended my first ARP meeting. I remember weeping at the time it was given. I remember watching this talk over and over again on my DVR. I would play it in the morning as I was getting ready for work. I read it over and over, and I still go back to it frequently. The most astonishing thing to me was that Elder Grow's brother was called to be a bishop after his excommunication. I remember sitting in awe as I heard this story. I remember thinking that if someone who had lived a "hedonistic lifestyle" could come back from it, come back from excommunication and be a bishop, then maybe there was quite a bit of hope for me also. Maybe I could fully repent and forsake my sins. Maybe abstinence was possible.

With no further adieu,