Holding on tight to very little, and still singing.

Music so often speaks the words of my heart!


From Adele.... "Hello, how are you?
It's so typical of me to talk about myself, I'm sorry
I hope that you're well
Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened?"

That town called CrazyTown. So much seems to happen yet nothing really does, unless you can get out....

I'm not out. I fool myself sometimes thinking I've managed to cross outside the town border. But it's all still the same. With a few minor differences to mix things up a bit.

It has been a year and a half since I have written. So much has changed in my life, yet SOOO much is still the same. Stuck. Trapped. Fighting to break free, desperately holding on.  My sad realization is that there isn't a lot for me to hold on to anymore. Anywhere.

From Wilson Philips....
" I know this pain
Why do lock yourself up in these chains?
No one can change your life except for you
Don't ever let anyone step all over you
Just open your heart and your mind
Is it really fair to feel this way inside?

Some day somebody's gonna make you want to
Turn around and say goodbye
Until then baby are you going to let them
Hold you down and make you cry
Don't you know?
Don't you know things can change
Things'll go your way
If you hold on for one more day
Can you hold on for one more day

Things'll go your way
Hold on for one more day"

More major discoveries. Not disclosures - DISCOVERIES. Then lies, more lies and seemingly endless lies. Then pitiful admissions when there is no way to hide from the evidence. Our life has been turned upside down. We lost our business, my husband is not well (in so many ways), and in the process we've had people showing up at our home threatening our family.  Our HOME! My life and MY PRECIOUS CHILDREN's lives! I am constantly looking over my shoulder, watching to see if I'm being followed, jumping at the wind, and hyper vigilant in locking the door and not leaving my children alone whenever possible.
My mind and body shut down at one point and I went into shock, with uncontrollable convulsions, disorientation and sensory overload. I am now the provider for our family. And although the timing of finding and getting the job is a gift, it is SOOO hard. I almost lost my job early in my training because I had an emotional breakdown at work. My brain and body are barely functioning, but somehow I am getting through each day. Some days better than others. But I'm holding on.

I've isolated myself from almost everyone. I have left Facebook. Almost a month ago now. That was my biggest connection to others. Part of the reason for leaving was because all of the uproar about the new policies from the Church. I am in a deep faith crisis still and I knew it was not healthy or helpful for me to keep reading it all (either side). Plus I came to wonder if I had been fooling myself, thinking I actually had people in my life and wasn't really alone. Stepping away has opened my eyes to how truly lonely my life is. On one hand, I don't have much to give towards building or maintaining friendships right now, and I don't want to be "that" friend that always burdens people with my woes. And my family relationships are either unhealthy or inconsistent. I also feel a strong need for anonymity in my pain. Part of it is shame, part fear and lack of trust.

But it is LONELY being lonely.

So here I am, again. Needing a place to share yet holding on to whatever anonymity I may have left. Although I know some who read this know my identity.


Hi.

I have started counseling. I'm not sure how that is going yet. It's only been 2 appointments so far. I feel defensive there. Like I have to defend why I am staying in my marriage. She bluntly stated that after all the therapy me and H have done, yet he still hasn't changed and is continuing to make the same choices, he may be a psychopath and I am likely deeply naive. She is hoping to break my naïveté. That scares me. I want to be open to hear hard things, but I also know I am very impressionable right now. I need to be vulnerable, yet firm in what I want for my life.

It also turns out that in order for my bishop to pay for my therapy, particularly since she is not LDS nor "approved" by ldsfs, my bishop sent her paperwork to sign agreeing to disclose personal information to him about my sessions. I don't like it.

Right now, I'm confused. And scared.

All of this has added to or magnified my struggles with the church. I trust no men. I had one I fully trusted (95% = full to me) as a father/leader figure, and when I turned to him for counsel and shared my heart and painful life with him, he showed me so much love and hurt to hear about my pain... And then told me he too considers himself an addict.

SHOCK.      SADNESS.       DISCOURAGEMENT.         HOPE (if HE is an addict and so good...?)

But more alone, feeling there is no escaping this HELL.

I want to, NEED to, get into 12 step again. But I am stuck. I DO NOT trust God. Especially as the "Father" "Male ruler" figure we are taught at church. I am in need of Female Divinity, nurturing, LOVE and direction in my life and that is not acceptable to seek that in our church. Men hurt my heart right now. They are not safe to me. None of them. That includes a Male Father in Heaven. Yet all 12 step requires trust in God and I cannot get there. It has been 3 years since I started 12 step and I have yet to get past step 3.

I have battled to retain what faith and testimony I can. I have spiritual (and some physical) battle wounds. I am tired. So tired. God is either stringing me along or giving me just enough oil so my lamp doesn't completely go dark. It's flickering.

From Great Big World...to God from me...

"And I... am feeling so small.
It was over my head
I know nothing at all
And I... will stumble and fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you."

I want HIM to say something, yet I know I don't trust what He may say. But I need something.

I need a hug. A great big soul encompassing hug that will continue to hold me for a very long time.

In the meantime, I will hold on. I have learned somehow to fight. I will keep fighting!

From Rachel Platten.... "This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I'm alright song
My power's turned on
Starting right now I'll be strong
I'll play my fight song."

And I'll always keep singing.

Obi Wan, you're our only hope!

I'm having visions of Princess Laya pleading for help from the wise Obi Wan Kenobi as she faces possible destruction of her beloved people. I can relate.

I have put so much trust in our counsellor. Since therapy is the only consistent thing my husband has been doing, I have felt like our counsellor has been our life line. He has responded in times of crises (outside of office hours), he has set his client schedule based on what is most convenient for us, he has come to our home, had us in his home for sessions, spent hours on the phone talking us through disasters, built my confidence in myself and my worth.

He has given me hope.

When my husband has shown almost imperceivable indication of progress or change, our counsellor has given me things to hold on to for survival.

He has been my Obi Wan.

And now he is closing his practice, and we are on our own. When he called me to tell me, it was as though he said, "your husband has been taught and trained in the ways of the Jedi (ie. recovery). The force is within him. It is now up to him to learn to use it...or face destruction."

Great.

I have taken my hope out of my husband's hands a long time ago, and placed it completely in the hands of our therapist. Grateful that he was even willing to go to counseling so frequently, I held on to the hope that maybe one of the upcoming sessions would be THE ONE that made the difference. And since that ship is sailing away in a couple of weeks, I am now wondering where I am to put the remaining fumes of my hope. I'm not giving it back to my husband to take care of. That would just be silly. But I'm not ready to let it disappear.

Without hope I have nothing. I cannot let it dissolve before my eyes.

And so I see that having no other earthly source to put my hope in at this point, I must give it all and completely to God. When other sources cease to make me/him/us whole (borrowed from the beautiful hymn "Where Can I Turn For Peace?"), I can turn to the One who is called the Hope of Israel. I place my hope in the hands that created the universe, and created me and my husband. Hope in the wisdom of an all knowing God whose timing is always perfect (so I've been told). Hope in the God of miracles.

Obi Wan is NOT my only hope!

I love the words of this hymn "Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me"
"Jesus, Savior, pilot me over life's tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll, hiding rock and treacherous shoal.
Chart and compass came from thee: Jesus, Savior, pilot me,

"As a mother stills her child, Thou canst hush the ocean wild;
Boist'rous waves obey thy will when thou say'st to them, "Be still!"
Wondrous Sov'reign of the sea, Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

"When at last I near the shore, and the fearful breakers roar
'Twixt me and the peaceful rest, then, while leaning on thy breast,
May I hear thee say to me, "Fear not: I will pilot thee."

And I may or may not still wish that Yoda will appear!

I found a new part of CrazyTown

Have you ever lived in the same town for a long time to discover a new area you had never been to? I have lived in my town most of my life and I could drive the streets almost with my eyes closed, but I know there are some places I have never been. I am always amazed when I make these new discoveries.

This happened to me the other night, except the town was CrazyTown. I have (unfortunately) been in and out of CrazyTown many times for many years. But most of the time I go to the same parts of "town". The other night was new to me. I had heard about it from other's experiences. It has a reputation of not being a very great place. I can now add my witness that it is true. I would be happy to never go there again.

It has been a rough few months for me. Some more discoveries, a lot of tears, painful detachment, dwindling hope. Then this week I received an upsetting phone call from our counsellor telling me that our time with him is ending. He also told me he has given my husband all he has to offer over the past several years, and it is now up to husband to decide if he is going to put to use all the tools he's been given. This information hit me really hard. It feels as though we have been in a hot air balloon and have just been told there is no more gas and we have to figure out how to land safely on the remaining fumes. I have felt such despair over this and have been in a very low place for the past few days. All of that is in addition to the painful discovery I found just a couple of weeks ago. I have very little confidence in my husband right now that he will actually do anything with the remaining bit of therapy we have left. He hasn't done much so far (from my perspective...a hot topic with us to say the least). Therapy has felt like my only hope. And it is ending.

The pain is heavier than usual.

Which brings us to the other night...

Feeling very insecure and fearful, I looked up on our gps to see if my husband really was where he said he was going to be (this isn't new to me...it's almost unconscious now how I look it up at times). He almost always is.

That night, he wasn't.

My heart started racing and my mind was ignited. I texted him, "why are you there?" No answer. I sent a few more texts, again with no answer. He almost always answers. Then I phoned. No answer. I was beginning to reel. I was planning on running an errand that evening anyway and was waiting for my kids to finish getting ready for bed. My oldest was going to babysit. When they were ready, I rushed out the door.

The plan was I was just going to run my errand and come back home...possibly bug him with a few more texts. But when I got to the crossroads of go straight for my errand or turn left to go towards where the gps was saying he was, I took a quick look to see if he was still there (and he was), I swerved left.

I have always been a very careful driver. Cautious, rarely speed. I actually had points deducted from my driving test because I was "too cautious". That night...not so much. I felt like I was flying on a rocket, speeding down the highway, checking the gps every 2 minutes to see if he was still there. I had given up control of myself. My mind was flying as fast as my car, thinking about what he might be doing there, with whom, and what I was going to do when I caught him. I even found myself praying out loud "please bless me to catch him in whatever he is doing."

I was getting frantic because I got caught in busy traffic. There is never traffic at 8pm in this part of town, but there was that night. I even found myself considering swerving into on coming traffic to pass the slow people in front of me - I drive a big SUV, but I could picture myself driving over the other cars like I was in a monster truck....Like I said, control/logic GONE.

From flying down the highway, to crawling behind slow evening drivers, to winding through residential areas dangerously fast...I made it to the gps location. With my heart racing and making final plans of what I was going to say when I "caught" him, I pulled over in a place where I could sort of hide the vehicle and watch (sneaky stealth spy!). He was there, with other youth leaders and youth...just like he was supposed to be (except I didn't think they would be there!). I was speechless and deflated. Then they all started coming out to their cars and I had to get out of there fast before being discovered. So I turned around really fast and flew down the street the opposite direction.

Good thing there is more than one way to get home!

And what a drive home that was. I just started crying. I was grateful he wasn't doing anything wrong, but I was so ashamed! What if they had seen me? How would I have explained to the other leaders (and youth!) why I left my kids at home to come and spy on my husband during a youth activity? I spent that drive slamming myself on how ridiculous I was and how I can't believe that I just did that. Where was all my recovery? Where was my strength? Where was my brain? I really can't adequately put into words how I felt about what I had done.

I was drowning in a tsunami of shame. Yet I was so angry that this is even my life...that this is even a possibility that I could have "caught" him doing something terrible. And how I almost made things worse by ME being "caught" out of control spying on him.

This has compounded the funk I've been in. This stinks. Like, make me want to gag, stink.

BUT, I have to learn from this. It is a wasted experience if I don't learn. Sooo...

I have come to realize that the step back I took from recovery work, and blog writing and reading, in what I felt was a needed break because I had become too consumed with it all...it was a bit too much of a break.

I have learned that writing in my blog keeps me more grounded and helps me process. Working my steps keeps me breathing normally (most of the time...we can talk about the step 4 breathing problems I'm having another day!), connecting with others who get it (by reading blogs and reaching out online...since I don't really have anyone in person to connect with) keeps my heart from being completely locked up alone in its cocoon.

I'm sure there are other lessons to be learned from this crazy adventure into the new part of CrazyTown, but the lightbulbs are slow to come on right now. I think I may have used up too much energy powering the rocket I rode on into CrazyTown. Back to step 1 I go.

And once I can get a handle on my shame spiral, I'm sure that I will be able to actually laugh about this experience (and tell my husband about it...one day). Hopefully he will laugh too.

Good grief.

truth, confusion and cooking

Well, I have found some truth. My feelings over the past few months that something is not right... my feelings were right. After a very LONG night of discussion, much more disclosure has been brought to light. All these feelings, all these times saying "I just feel that something isn't right", doing my searching and monitoring came up with nothing. But I couldn't shake the feeling.

God is a God of TRUTH. He will bring the truth forward in His time. I received truth last night (and a bit more this morning). I am grateful I worship a God of truth.

Yet there still lingers this confusion about the label of addiction. I have gone back and forth several times (via email) with my counsellor about my husband and whether he believes my husband has an actual addiction. MY TRUTH....I believe he does. No, it is not as severe/deep rooted as others. But there is no question that my husband cannot stop his behavior on his own. Even if it comes up every few months, and is not a driving force of his daily thoughts. When it does come up, he cannot always resist. Sometimes he can. My counsellor claims my husband is dancing on the line of addiction versus chronic behaviors that lead to addiction. My husband feels that the title doesn't really matter right now because it doesn't change the fact that he needs help to overcome WHATEVER THIS IS HE KEEPS DOING.

I am a word person. Proper use of words are important to me. Improper use of words BUG ME. Especially when they change the meaning of something very important. But perhaps that is a hang-up I need to let go of? perhaps I need to focus more on the HOW for recovery and change instead of the definition.

I hate cooking. I detest, loathe, abhor, dislike with a passion cooking. But for some reason my brain is creating a parallel here. If I focus on the WORD, does it really change what needs to be done? I could not tell you the difference between sauté and fry. But does that really matter? If I know that I need to heat up a pan, put the food in, leave it there for a few minutes, flip it and leave it there for a few more minutes (depending on what is being cooked)...the finished product should be fairly similar, no? Maybe some things need to be pushed around the pan a bit, some things need a different amount of time in the pan. But the word used perhaps isn't as important as the steps required to take you to your end goal. I'm sure that a professional chef may completely disagree that it DOES matter the difference between sauté and fry. But for my purposes right now, to get to the goal of a nicely cooked meal (lets not even get into talking about seasoning!) that will not leave you with food poisoning from undercooked meat...or to end the behaviors...perhaps the word doesn't really matter. Get the basics covered and then you can expand into polishing.

Addiction or addictive behaviors...the end goal is to STOP. To HEAL. If my husband (or myself) is willing to really work a 12 step program, receive counselling and dig deep in his/my soul to find healing and to stop the destructive behavior, isn't that what matters? If we are clearly aware that there is a problem that cannot be overcome on our own, and are willing to work to overcome it, isn't that what matters? Then, once the main demon is tamed/destroyed, we can work on polishing the rest of our self.

I think too, part of my struggle with this word is the impact (unexpected) it had on me to no longer feel like I "fit" anywhere. Feeling like a misfit in the world of addiction and certainly not fitting in a "normal" marriage. That is a deeper issue (polishing?) that I need to address. Coming to really believe that I am meant to be clay and molded as the Master Potter would have me, instead of squished into a cookie cutter (really, does ANYONE fit the cookie cutter? I think that may be one of my false beliefs).

And maybe I am completely off base and wrong. BUT, I do know that my God of TRUTH will help me figure this out. In the mean time, we will keep working on cooking that food so we don't get food poisoning, and one day get to enjoy seasoning techniques. (well, except for the fact that my husband is a GREAT cook and very talented with seasoning and various other culinary techniques...but that's beside the point).

Cookie cutters and clay

I have always liked cookie cutters. They are precise, you know what the finished product is going to turn out looking like, they are less messy. They just fit nicely.

I have tried to fit in various shapes of cookie cutters my entire life, but just never really fit any. I was involved in sports, but not an athlete; the arts, but not an artist or star performer; the intellectual/smart kids, but not really fitting there either. One teacher once told me you are either "artsy fartsy" or smart. Hmmm. I was both, I knew it. But to my young mind I was so torn because I just didn't FIT.

I tried being friends with "popular" kids, but only a bit because those kids at my school were doing things that did not sit right with my soul. I tried, experimented, made some friends, and then moved on. Never really finding my place. I had friends in different groups and felt torn trying to understand which group I fit in the best.

Even in my family I never felt like I really fit. I was loved, yes. But I was different, sort of. Even being "different" didn't totally fit because there were so many similarities.

When I began looking into religion, I thought I was looking for a church that fit MY beliefs, but really, deep down, I was trying to find a cookie cutter I fit or that fit me...I just wanted to fit. Then I learned about the Gospel of Jesus Christ, according to the teachings of the LDS church. It fit my heart more than I had imagined I would find. It even had a choir I could join (which was one of the things on my list I was looking for in a church)!

I felt that I didn't really fit when I was baptized (or afterwards) because of my life experiences. How could a person like me fit the cookie cutter mold of a Mormon? I was different from most of the other people my age because I was a convert, had experienced much that they never would have to face, I didn't have pioneer heritage or traditions of much that fit with the Gospel. I didn't have an eternal family. But I worked HARD to try and make myself fit. Sadly, that isolated me even more because in my efforts to fit what I thought was the cookie cutter, I became a sort of zealot. I was intense. The harder I tried to make myself fit the mold of a "good latter-day saint", the more alone I began to feel. For awhile I felt I just didn't fit in the Church at all. But Christ was in my heart and I had to find a way. Try harder, do it a bit different, look at how other people are living and try and be like them. Anything (almost) to FIT.

I married a returned missionary in the temple...isolating myself from my family, but determined that THIS was how I was going to finally have my cookie cutter life. It was a struggle from early on. I just didn't understand it. I tried to do all the things that we were taught we should do for the ideal family, but it just wasn't turning out like the cookie cutter. Lots of trials and struggles for many, many years. Our family just didn't fit the mold. Our counsellor even said to us one time, "the church teaches about the ideal, and you just do not fit the ideal mold." He was trying to be helpful to encourage me to look at other options that might make our life a bit more doable for me and my husband, but it was just another way that I didn't fit. I just wanted to FIT gosh-darnit!

And then D-day #1 happened. Any hope that I had been clinging to of progressing to a place where I fit was gone. My world had collapsed and I had no idea which way was up. We tried to rebuild, tried to overcome, tried to get back to "fitting" as best we could, but that cycle just always brought more problems (and more d-days). I did not fit the ideal LDS marriage/family, and I never would.

But then I discovered the world of WoPA's. I studied and read and learned and tried to morph myself and come to terms with my "new" identity as a WoPA. I joined forums and other groups, I read blogs and started my own, I began working 12 steps for betrayal trauma and recovery for loved ones of addicts. I learned a lot and felt like I may have found a place that I fit. Not the shape of a cookie cutter that I ever wanted to fit into, but part of my heart was happy to finally feel like I fit SOMEWHERE.

And then last week that all got flipped on it's head again. After over a year of counselling, we were told that our therapist does not believe my husband is an actual "addict". He is bordering on the line of addiction, had addictive tendencies and an addictive personality, but he is not to the point where he can be diagnosed as a sex addict or money addict or any specific "addict". He's close, as our therapist said, but doesn't quite fit the definition. My identitiy that I had come to accept (as a WoPA or WoA -wife of an addict) dissolved right in front of me. I no longer felt like I fit in the places that had become safe to me...the forums, blogs, support groups. Gone. Poof. Sure, I have faced betrayal and have experienced betrayal trauma. That is true. But I apparently am not a true WoPA. I am a WoAA...wife of an ALMOST ADDICT. I almost fit, but not quite. And that has been a hard blow. Reading the blogs and forum posts is just different now. It feels like another loss.

How is it that I am grieving losing my identity of being a WoPA? Really, that just sounds crazy to me, but it actually hurts. A lot. Because I want to fit. I want to feel like I'm not different AGAIN.

Additionally, with my "miracle" I received last week, that opened my eyes about my own destructive patterns and behaviors, I still don't "fit". I don't know if I have an actual addiction. I have researched this and while I fit SOME of the "qualifiers" of addiction, I don't fit all. It's like I just don't have enough dough to fit into all the corners of the addiction cookie cutter...as a wife or as an individual.

That should be a good thing, right? But it doesn't feel good. It hurts the part of me that just desperately wants to fit.

As I have pondered more on this, I am starting to gain a different perspective. Or perhaps, God is helping me to see it differently. Maybe God doesn't want me to be a cookie cutter? Maybe He wants me to fit HIS mold. But His mold for me isn't the same shape as anyone else. And I'm thinking He isn't wanting me to be the same as anyone else. He is a potter that molds the clay how He wants.

"But now, O Lord, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand." Isaiah 64:8

I think God sometimes lets us try and help Him shape us. He wants us to be involved in bettering ourselves, actively engaged. But sometimes (and occasionally more than sometimes) we make a mess of the clay. And that is where the Master Potter steps in (if we let Him) to FIX us, instead of trying to FIT us into a certain mold. To smooth out the bumps, fill in the cracks, reshape the warped and wonky, to guide our hands as we try again (and again and again).
http://www.lds.org/general-conference/1982/04/beginning-again?lang=eng

"Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will cause thee to hear my words.
Then I went down to the potter's house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels.
And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it.
Then the word of the Lord came again to me, saying,
O house of Israel, (O Steel Cocoon), cannot I do with you as this potter?...Behold as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are ye in mine hand." Jeremiah 18:2-6

I think it is time I stop trying to fit a defined mold and embrace the vessel the Master Potter is shaping me to become. And if that doesn't fit in a certain group or category, that is ok. It does not take away the validity of what I am living. Jesus didn't fit the cookie cutter either.

Requested and unexpected miracle

So the past week and a half I have been praying fervently for a miracle to occur in my family. You know the kind...that my husband will have a real and lasting change of heart and will REALLY choose to pursue recovery - and find success. I had even told my husband that I was praying for a miracle (and strongly encouraged him to do the same) as we prepare for our next counselling session in a few days. My "recommendation" to my husband was quite strongly worded and did not go over too well. We both had withdrawn and our home felt like it was a part of the major deep freeze that has been happening in parts of North America (not where we live though).

On Sunday I fasted. Fasting is REALLY hard for me. I usually end up nauseous and with a headache, sometimes dizzy, physical pain and pretty grouchy. This time it was different. I hardly felt hungry at all and really didn't struggle with it. This was HUGE for me. An indication to me that God recognized the sacrifice I was making to fast and that He was aware of me and my needs. That increased my faith that I may actually receive the miracle I was seeking.

I know miracles happen. I have seen MAJOR miracles happen to people I know. I wanted it to be my turn.

I fasted for specific revelation to know how to move forward with my marriage (or not), for a major change to take place with my husband that I will be able to see. I also threw in at the end of my day, "and bless me to be able to recognize what Thou would have me change/improve about myself". I was thinking letting go of the trauma, control, self care, getting my life in order....you know... personal growth kind of general stuff.

I felt nothing. I received NO revelation. Not even a hint of inspiration. Crickets. AND, my husband was still withdrawn and still didn't apologize for some of the very hurtful things he had done that week...even though I DID!

Sheesh! WHAT'S THE DEAL???

Monday came around and we had a long talk that just went around and around in circles. Not much changed. My frustrations were growing and I felt so discouraged.

And then my miracle came, completely disguised as a swift kick to my gut.

Monday night God opened my eyes. And it HURT. Something happened and as I went out that evening to run some errands and think about my life, God showed me that I have an addiction too.

GASP!!!

It is different...different theme, different ways of "acting out". But it is the same. Addiction is addiction. I actually am not sure if it is a specifically defined "addiction", but being a destructive behavior pattern that causes harm to myself and my loved ones, that has continued on even though I have taken steps previously to try and stop it...sounds pretty fitting to me. I am not stuck on the label. Addiction is the word I am familiar with and for now, that is how I will look at what I am facing.

I knew before that this was something that isn't good. But it wasn't so clear to me as it was on Monday that this goes beyond a character weakness and will continue to progress unless I do something about it now. As I pondered on it I saw this pattern: Sometimes I can see myself heading down that road and can stop. Other times I see myself going there and don't stop or CAN'T stop. And still other times I find myself in the THICK of it and wonder "how the HECK did I get here?" and either get control of myself or let it snowball.

Now I'm not really surprised that I have an addiction. Being raised with addiction all around me, and then (unknowingly) marrying someone who would become an addict (yes, it came after we were married...but the core issues are lifelong), it is sort of to be expected that there is some sort of addictive issue with me as well. I have believed for a long time that if I were to begin drinking, it would lead me down the same tragic path as my precious Mama. I have been proud to tell myself I couldn't hurt my kids like that and thus I loathe alcohol with a passion. (Insert a nice self-righteous pat on the back here).

But the truth, the PAINFUL truth, is that my addiction is JUST as destructive to the well being of my family (and self and marriage) as my husband's or my parents.

This is really hard to swallow. For so long I have focused on the pain my husband (and parents) have caused me, of the rotten things done to me. And I have ignored, minimized, rationalized or justified my own behavior and the damage it is doing. To be clear...my husband and parents are not off the hook...they HAVE caused a lot of pain and harm and my husband still has a lot of work to do for his addictions. But God has shown me it is time for me to take responsibility for my actions and change. As I woke up this morning I found myself back to minimizing and rationalizing away all that I had felt last night (Monday). All of those things that "addicts" tell themselves..."it's not THAT bad", "don't tell anyone", "you can just overcome this on your own", "it could be WAY worse"...and on and on and on. But I cannot listen to that. I know enough about addiction and recovery now (thanks hubby and parents!) to know those are huge red flags. And so somehow I am able to let go of those thoughts and remember what God showed me last night and remember what I have learned along this journey of learning about addiction.

OUCH.

This is my miracle. This is NOT what I prayed for (or at least not what I MEANT to pray for). This is not what I WANTED. I don't feel good about this...yet. I have faith that with time and work I will come to be grateful for this miracle. I can see that it is a blessing (or will be). But right now, it hurts. A LOT. There is shame and pain and guilt and self hatred and .....a lot of tears. Sorrow. But underneath (or maybe above?) all of that is the very quiet voice that is whispering "you CAN do this. It will be ok. There is healing available for ALL."

Right now I feel a very strange sort of compassion for my husband (and parents). A better understanding. Still much pain from their choices. And I still need healing for that. But there is this new dynamic that still has my head spinning a bit. Just as I believe the Savior can heal my husband, so can He heal me...from my trauma and my addiction.

God is good, even if He makes us exclaim OUCH! sometimes.

Darkness painted with words

Darkness abounds.
It is winning today.
Screaming and fighting children.
A house in shambles.
An empty fridge.
A dwindling pantry.
Financial prison, with a very small hope of parole or pardon.
Job lay-off.
Future employment prospects low.
Dreams shattered.
Recovery progress slower than the slowest snail.
More non-disclosures discovered.
The pain of detachment.
The loneliness of living with secret pain.
Anger rages inside like a storm.
Sadness thicker than the earth's crust.
A mind frantically searching for answers.
A soul yearning to feel God's love and direction.
Silence amid deafening sounds.
Exhaustion that prevents sleep.
Hiding in bed.
Unable to cry anymore.
Stuck.

Reflections on Mary

As the busyness comes to a boil and we are finishing up our preparations for Christmas, likely we are doing so with a heaviness in our hearts...a silent sorrow for the burdens we are carrying in our lives. The unfulfilled or shattered dreams; the pain of our husband's choices - possibly his rejection of us; an unsure future; a long road ahead of us; desiring to provide the best for our children but feeling limited in our ability to do so; wanting to protect them from the evil we know is out there but knowing that we cannot completely protect them - instead realilizng that preparing them for their life is the best we can do - and try to find joy along the way.

My heart is turning to Mary and pondering on what she must have experienced. This woman lived a virtuous life, desiring to live according to God's teachings. I'm sure she had dreams of what her life would be like...who would she marry, how would he propose, what would her children be like? The dreams of most young women.

And then the angel came...

How did that message he brought change her life? Did she struggle to let go of her plans, her dreams? Did she fear the road she had to walk?

At what point did she surrender her will and say to her Father in Heaven, " I can't do this. This is too much! I need Thy help!", recognizing that she HAD to rely on God and TRUST Him?

How did she feel when Joseph initially chose to not marry her? Did she question her worth? Did she wrestle with feeling rejected and alone...not good enough for Joseph?

Now I am not trying to imply that Joseph's choice is AT ALL the same as our husbands who wrestle with addiction. Instead I am looking at Mary's possible feelings about it. Feeling rejected and abandoned is what it is. It doesn't mean that is what Joseph actually intended to do, but if she FELT that way, even though she was pure and righteous....how did she deal with that? How many tears were shed asking God to comfort her heart? I believe the only way she would have made it through that was by recognizing, believing in, and trusting God's love for her.

And what about the reaction of others? Did people believe her? How many people shunned her because they just didn't understand? How was she shamed? She didn't ask for this in her life, and she didn't do anything wrong. Yet there she was, unwed and pregnant. Did she feel her life had become unmanageable? Were her character weaknesses brought out in the open by others pointing fingers (or by her own mind telling herself that she was not good enough for the calling she had been given)? Did people who DID believe that the Child was to be the Son of God doubt her and question "why her? How could God choose her?" Or did she receive support all around her from people who truly knew her, giving her strength and encouragement that she COULD do this, that she was strong and worthy and capable of doing hard things? Did she have a strong support circle?

And then when it came time for the trip to Bethlehem...was she frantically busy trying to get last minute preparations done, exhausted at the end of her pregnancy? How long did she labour? How did she feel having to face this birth without her mother? Without the rest of her support circle, other than Joseph? Was he supportive? How hard would that have been for him?

She gave us her dreams. She sacrificed in more ways than we can imagine, but also in many ways we can imagine...in ways we can understand. ..a little bit.

Today, I am grateful for Mary. To me she is the epitome of courage, strength and surrendering to God. I admire her greatly.

As we hurry around with our last minute preparations for Christmas, may we take a moment to remember the woman who prepared to bring forth our greatest gift...our Savior.

God bless Mary and all strong and courageous women (ok, and men too 😉) who are striving to live their best life according to God's will and purposes...women who CAN do hard things!

Smashed and burned

So I was given a very nice gift today. The bishop's wife and daughters took my load of kids to their place to bake cookies and allow me a couple of hours to finish up shopping. I made sure this week that I was done my shopping before today so that I could have that time to myself. And what did I do, you ask?

I smashed and burned.

I made a quick trip to the second hand store and carefully selected some items for this adventure. So many times I have wanted to smash and burn things because my anger has been so deep and raw. But I have not had the time to myself or had anything to use. There is one catch with today....

I wasn't feeling angry. Go figure.  My husband even asked me what my plans were and I told him. We had a bit of a laugh together at how silly this seemed since I was actually feeling kind of light-hearted and un-angry. But I did the exercise anyway. I also took pictures.

An empty red container (to minimize the mess) with a rock. This symbolizes rock bottom and the heavy rock I feel in the pit of my stomach.

 

The rim of this plate symbolizes the lies that just went around and around, seemingly never-ending...which left me feeling like my life and mind was constantly going in circles.

 

 

Oh the contradiction and symbolism of this next one! Life can be sweet, but when he chooses to indulge in his addiction...well...

IT'S NUTS!

He chose (chooses?) his indulgences and desires over our family and marriage so many times. And we have been damaged by it. But even when the shell of our life gets cracked, if we get down to the nut (root), that is the good part anyway. (This cup took six throws to actually smash the "indulge" part...how many attempts will it take for my husband to smash his addiction?)

 

 

 

And next comes the forbidden fruit and the thorns of addiction. What could be so sweet and delicious brings sorrow and pain. It looks so appealing but if you are not careful, it will tangle you in its thorns. Who hasn't reached for that big berry deep in the bushes that you just KNOW how good it will taste, and end up getting scratched and tangled and bleeding trying to get there (or get out)? Also, a reminder that we must know the bitter to be able to understand and appreciate the sweet.

 

This next one symbolizes how empty and alone I have felt. How I have been abandoned by him in some of my darkest times, to face death and sorrow alone because he was not capable of extending support and empathy.

But it also symbolizes the ability to become clean - him and me. We can heal. I can heal. My heart can become clean and pure, letting go of this darkness and anger that resides there.

 

The shattered pieces. Even my rock broke.

 

And then I burned...

 

 

 

So although this didn't release the anger that I was thinking it would (doing this while already angry would have been much more effective!), it did help me release some and I learned. I yelled, I cried a bit, and I listened. Things don't always go as planned, and I still had a mess to clean up afterwards. But I am ok. That is what I have learned...I will be ok. I have the ability to clean up messes. I cannot prevent them from happening, and I cannot control when they happen or how big they are. But I have the ability to clean up, find something to smile about (my kids all had a blast baking cookies and were well behaved and happy while I smashed and burned), move forward with my life, and then I can share my experiences with others...finding support, understanding, and possibly even sharing laughs about how smashing dishes doesn't even go as planned sometimes!

 

And at least I didn't set anything else on fire! ;o) Now to eat some of my kids cookies!

Anniversaries

December holds a lot of anniversaries for me. All of which are extremely painful.

The end of my mom's life.

A hugely destructive fire deliberately set by an unknown arsonist.

Major heart surgery for one of my children.

A miscarriage, followed a month later by massive D-day #1 (which means I faced the miscarriage alone because my husband was so deep in the dark and drowning in lies he had no idea how to support me).

Learning from D-day #1 that December was a big month for my husband in his addiction...some of the more painful things he did were in December.

Traumatic surgery (and horrible hospital experience) after the birth of my last baby.

Discovering with major D-day #2 (this past January) that another big (read: escalated and more painful) event with his addiction occurred just a week after my surgery (as I was recovering in bed)...last December.

These are some of the more prominent ones that are floating around in my head and heart everyday. I have been struggling to get into the Christmas Spirit, to feel the peace of the season, the excitement with my children, the joy of celebrating with family. My heart feels heavy and I feel like I have had a little black cloud over my head this entire month. There are reminders all around me of the pain of Decembers past.

But with those memories comes the whispered reminders, "look how far you have come! Look at what you have faced and are still standing and moving forward!" I could have crumbled (permanently). I could have chosen so many other responses instead of taking a deep breath and pushing on toward healing. Looking back, it is clear that I was given strength beyond my own capacity.

I was buoyed up by unseen angels. I know this.

And so although December brings anniversaries of deeply painful experiences, it is also the anniversary of strength; of a time of the ministering of angels in my life. There is no earthly explanation as to how I was able to still function some years.

The explanation comes in the anniversary that most of the world celebrates each December...the birth of Christ. His birth was the beginning of the path that allowed (and continues to allow) me to move forward each day. His birth brings promise of hope, renewal, courage to face difficult roads ahead because it lead to His journey of overcoming ALL. It brings love. His birth brings the ministering of angels.

It was the start of the journey of all of our hope. It provides me with the hope that I can be reunited with my mom (and other loved ones); that when all seems lost, all is not lost; that all can be overcome (including addiction and betrayal trauma) through Him; that healing can occur even when a full restoration cannot be achieved in this life; that when I feel completely alone, I can be surrounded by angels who will lift and love me.

We must know the bitter to fully appreciate and understand the sweet.

Celebrating His birth is the sweet in my December of anniversaries. 

Rounding up with Christ

Recently one of my kids was learning rounding at school. She really struggled with the concept for some reason. She asked for help at school and home. My husband and I each tried to explain it to her in various ways but it just wasn't sinking in for her. Sometimes she would think she understood and then a new problem would send her right back to confusion. A few tears were shed as well as many roars of frustration.

I too have been struggling to figure out an equation. I have been trying to understand what the recovery literature and others have been saying:

A + B does not = C

Meaning: my husband's addiction and betrayal does not mean there is something wrong with me. (ie., my fault...not good enough, pretty enough, etc...). This has been a very hard concept for me to understand. Sometimes I think I get it, but then a new problem (or trigger) will come up that will send me right back into confusion and self doubt.

Here's a problem:
A + B COULD = C. It just depends on the variables. It is possible that my husband could choose the way he does because I am not a good wife or not good enough for him. Reverse the tables and I could choose to leave my marriage if I feel my husband is not doing enough to fight this addiction.

A + B = C (addiction + betrayal = casualties, CrazyTown, crying, corruption, etc.)

I suppose we need to look closer at the variables. What makes a good wife and a desirable wife? Looks? Skills in the bedroom? Skills in the kitchen? What about loyalty, ulnerability, dedication to the marriage, family and God? What about other talents or skills? Personality?

If I have traits that qualify as a good wife, that enhance my husband's life and help him come closer to God, in my opinion, that makes me a good wife. Perfect? Not at all. But when looking at the variables, my good traits out weigh my weaknesses. And not just as a wife, but as a person...me, just on my own. I have to acknowledge that God has blessed me with talents and traits that are honorable and virtuous and valuable. So I am good. I am valuable. I have much to offer. It is possible that it isn't what my husband wants or chooses, but that doesn't change my value. My variables demonstrate I AM good.

Jesus Christ was PERFECT. Without fault, encompassing all that is good. Yet He was/is rejected and betrayed by those who were closest to Him and what He has to offer is not desirable by many. But that does not mean there is something wrong with HIM or what He has to offer. Just because someone (or many) turn their back on Him or choose something other than what He has to offer does not diminish the value of Him or His offerings.

Now, to be very clear...I am not perfect and the good that I do have to offer is not perfect quality either (not to mention the character flaws I have...step 6). But that is where rounding comes in. My best efforts, rounded up with the Atonement of Christ, will allow me to become a Celestial being.

A (the Atomement) + B (my Best efforts) = Celestial Me.


Nowhere in that equation is ANYTHING to do with whether my husband sees value in me or if his choices can change the results and value of me. My worth is connected to Christ. Period. Does it hurt if my husband doesn't choose me? Absolutely. Deeply. The Savior was known to weep and feel pain because of the choices of those He loves (which is all of us). He hurt deeper than I do. But that doesn't change the value!


Truly, when you take Christ out of the equation, you will never get the results you want! Rounding up WITH Christ is always the best deal!

Lonely in the majority

Recently I read a great blog post about how the majority of men are involved in regular pornography usage, which means that, for those who are married, there is a majority of wives who are facing this. I too am one in the majority. But my corner in this majority is a really lonely place.

I personally know only one other woman in my entire stake who is also in this majority. I know there are others out there. I read the blogs, I am on a fantastic forum of women fighting this battle everyday. But in my corner of the world, where there are people you can reach out to and phone and hug...there is me, and one other. I am deeply grateful that I know her. Yet because it is just the two of us, it still feels kind of lonely, like we are in this bubble looking out at everyone else who are living normal lives...or who are blissfully ignorant of the problems that are going on. I was there at one point. So was she. Sometimes I wish I could be back there again.

There comes a point each day where my heart cries. Sometimes tears come. Sometimes only me and God know. But everyday it is there. I look at the other women at church and wonder if they are part of this secret majority, and wonder if we would become friends if we knew we shared this life. The ward (congregation) I am a part of has a reputation of being very cliquey and exclusive. Adding the stigma and shame of this addiction, which none of them know we are battling, makes it even more isolating. I KNOW we are not the only ones. I don't know who else it is that is a part of this 70%, but I know they are out there. I wonder if THEY know. My guess is that there may be a small number who do know, who are silently living with heartache and tears, putting on the public happy face, thinking that they are alone. But I also believe that there are many others who are going to have their worlds crash down around them sometime in the future. It is my hope that I can work on my recovery so that I can be in a position to offer them support and strength, and be someone they can turn to. Because I know how much it hurts to feel alone.

My loneliness also runs through my marriage. Finding the balance of detachment and boundaries with connection and love is a challenge. I worry about how my reactions will impact my husband and I don't know what is the healthiest way in various situations. My pain runs so deep and he is not able to heal that for me, and is not a safe place yet to rely on. Living this way feels so lonely.

I want to reach out, seek comfort and support, be understood and validated, GIVE support and validation. Connect. So many factors seem to make this so hard to attain, even when the majority of people around me are facing the same pain.

And then I receive the sweet whisperings of the Spirit reminding me where I can turn...

"Where can I turn for peace?
Where is my solace when other sources cease to make me whole?
When with a wounded heart, anger or malice,
I draw myself apart, searching my soul?

"Where, when my aching grows,
Where, when I languish,
Where, in my need to know, where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand? HE, only One.

"He answers privately,
Reaches my reaching
In my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend.
Gentle the peace he finds for my beseeching.
Constant he is and kind, Love without end."
- "Where Can I Turn for Peace?" - lds hymn book p129

In the depths of loneliness, surrounded by others, the answers always seem to point back to HIM.

The secret life of a porn addict's wife

I used to be quite social. I had lots of friends, would chat with or visit people throughout the week, I looked forward to meeting new people and loved making new friends. I wasn't shy to strike up a conversation with someone I didn't know. I had a bubble around me but it felt more like "how many people can I fit inside my bubble?" instead of a bubble to keep people out. Even as a child, if my usual friends weren't available I would open up the phone book and start calling anyone that I knew that I might enjoy spending time with. Sure, I enjoyed time to myself. But I also loved being around others. It filled me up and gave me energy.

Today my world is very different.

To others I may come across as a loner, a stuck up snob, a person who severely lacks in conversation skills, cold, rude, uninviting, antisocial, unapproachable and just unfeeling.

Here's the truth. I am living a secret life. That secret life makes it look like I am all of those things, but that is not me. Really, it isn't. Here's the secret...my husband is a porn and sex addict and, as a result, I've got some major trauma I face every day.

For me, leaving the house when I know I will have to be around other people causes HUGE anxiety. I have to put on full body armor just to feel like I can make it without falling apart around others. Body armor is hard and cold. But it is meant to protect the tender and warm person inside. Right now, I do not know who is safe, and so I feel the need to protect myself from everyone. I want to enjoy the freedom of friendship, but I am so scared to be hurt or to let out my secret.

I see the other moms at the school picking up their kids. They stand in small groups laughing and talking away. Everyday, I stand by myself waiting at my child's classroom door. Occasionally someone will come up and make a comment to me about my baby or one of my kids. But that is it. No one really knows me or anything about me, other than the fact that I always have a ton of kids with me (some mine, some daycare). I am sure it seems I don't want to talk to anyone. But the truth is, I don't know what to say. Right now my life is consumed with taking care of children and trying to heal from betrayal trauma due to my husband's addiction. So even a simple question such as, "so what do you do in your spare time?" is dangerous territory because what I do when I have spare time is work on my 12 step recovery program. I can't say that. My kids are not in any extra curricular activities and so that is not a venue of conversation. There really isn't much else to my life right now. I am not trying to be a snob.

I have at times tried to just turn conversations around to talk about other people. But I realized, that is what my husband has been doing his whole life. A friend of ours recently said to me, "I've known him (husband) for 20 years and I just realized I know very little about him. He is always a great friend to me, willing to listen, be supportive, etc. But he has always turned conversations around to be about me and hasn't let me get to really know him." I just said, "oh. hmmm. Isn't that interesting." She doesn't know my secret either, and she is one of my dearest friends. So as a result of my husband's addiction that stems from his fear of letting people get close to him, I am adopting his same behavior of keeping people out. Sometimes I would rather just avoid conversation than follow in that pattern.

I also have huge anxiety about leaving my house because I know the world is oozing with triggers. There are half naked women everywhere, jokes about sex and pornography and affairs (is that really funny people??), conversations about what people are keeping from their spouses or about how wonderfully perfect their spouse is. There are comments that come out of nowhere about how perfect my life and family seems, that really are laced with barb wires. Or if they are sincere, are based on a false perception. How do I respond when someone says, "oh you have such a wonderful family! You are so blessed and must be so happy!"? It's the same sort of thing when I was in the thick of postpartum depression for the first time...people would come up to me and say "don't you just LOVE being a mother?? Isn't it the best thing EVER??!!" To me, at that time, it was pure misery, sprinkled with the occasional smile. Hearing people talk about how glorious and wonderful marriage is makes me want to scream. So, on goes my armor so that I DON'T scream.

I screamed on facebook the other day. I couldn't take it anymore. There was an article that about 10 of my friends had shared saying how this is the ultimate truth to marriage and how we should be in our marriages. "Only think of your spouse. Love them more. Try harder to make them happy. Their happiness is your number one priority". I ended up in a heated discussion on my wall for 2 days about this because I tried to share that it isn't always healthy to do that (without screaming..."when your husband is an addict, that is the OPPOSITE of what you should do!"). I had people throwing scriptures and talks from church leaders at me, telling me I was selfish and not following God's teachings, how marriage is beautiful, etc. When stuff like that happens, my armor becomes reinforced and glued to me.

I also recently read that when we try and numb feelings, we cannot pick and choose which to numb. Its an all or nothing approach. And so in order to not break down in tears as I stand at the school, or sit in church, or anywhere else I may come across others or triggers, I choose to temporarily numb. And that may seem to others that I am unfeeling, but the truth is, my feelings are so deep and powerful. I am living the opposite of unfeeling.

Now I will admit that if a woman passes by me that looks like half of her wardrobe belongs to her young daughter, there may be some truth to my being angry, cold and antisocial. Right now, because of my trauma, women like that are walking pain to me and I want as little interaction with them as possible.

If you have ever seen the  Twilight saga, one of the characters, Jane, has a special power. She can cause even the strongest to writhe in pain on the ground with just her mind. It is only perceived pain. She actually does nothing to them. But they feel it, vividly.

This is how I feel when certain women are around me, and especially if I am with my husband. It is as though they walk past and say "pain", and if I didn't have some sort of armor on, I would be on the ground in agony. Instead, I stand in agony but come across as stone cold. I am sure that most of these women would be fantastic friends and that in another life, when I wasn't brought to my knees by the pain of my husband lusting after other women, we could have some great times together. But today, you are my Jane.

So to those of you who notice me standing alone at the school, or sitting alone in the back corner at church, or not phoning anyone up to get together...please know that it isn't that I have become a cold, antisocial snob who has turned her back on everyone. It is because I am living a secret life as a porn addict's wife, and I haven't figured out how I fit in the world with this new part of my life. Eventually my bubble will grow to include others again. If you are still around when that time comes, I look forward to some great times together!

Shame, Shame, SHAME

Have you ever seen someone being publicly shamed? Someone pointing a finger very close to their face and saying phrases over and over again like, "how could you DO that?! What were you THINKING?! WERE you even thinking AT ALL? Do you have a functioning brain? Do you understand...have ANY IDEA...even the slightest hint of what you have done??" Meanwhile, the person being shamed shrinks lower and lower. Sometimes you can physically see them get smaller. Eyes cast downward, shoulders slumped, shallow breathing, hands hanging lifelessly by their side or frantically wringing their hands behind their back. It is a heart wrenching sight.

This is happening to me. Just not publicly.

I recently was working on my Addo Recovery program and one of the assignments was to write my story. I went deeper with this writing than I had ever before. I hadn't even shared all these details with my counsellor. And while it felt good to get my story out, it brought up some deep emotions - namely, shame.

I think back to the first time I found porn in my home. It was a magazine in my husband's bedside table. I found it completely by chance as I was looking for something else face down, under a small crate of tools. My husband is not a reader, so it was very strange to see a magazine in there, but I was going to just ignore it and keep looking for whatever it was I went there for originally. Something on the back cover caught my attention enough to make me pull it out and see what it was. I was stunned. My brain actually began to misfire. If I had pulled out a baby unicorn, my brain would have had the same reaction. "It is not physically possible for me to be holding THIS magazine that I found in HIS bed side table. NOT POSSIBLE."

Yet there it was. In my hands. In my cold and trembling hands.

Then something clicked in my brain and I hid the magazine and went looking for my husband. I asked him about "a magazine" and he seemed clueless. Then I said WHAT magazine and he acted completely dumbfounded, claiming he had no idea where it came from and that it was NOT his. Part of me inside was saying, "of course it isn't his! He isn't like that." But the other part of the brain, that had just started to work again, said "how could it NOT be his?"

He gave me one suggestion of where it may have come from. I didn't believe it. That seemed just as ridiculous. I dropped it for a bit, took the magazine outside and ripped it up and burned it in my driveway. I was shaking and my mind was spinning. A few days later I brought it up again because it just wasn't sitting right with me and I had to know where it came from. Then my husband suggested another possibility. I will not get into it here...but I will say, it was a story line you would find in a movie. I remember just staring at him and asking, "really?" He said, "I don't know. Maybe. I just know it isn't mine." He asked me multiple times to believe him, promising it wasn't his. As I think back to that time, there was almost desperation in his pleading.

So, I decided to believe him. I don't know why. And believing him led me down a road of paranoia. To believe this lie meant we were not safe. And I started jumping at every sound in and out of our house and began looking for a new, "safe" place to live. I later found out the truth, of course.

But this is where I have wrestled. I have stuffed that experience way down and tried not to look at it. Writing my story brought it up and flooded me with shame. "How could you BELIEVE that?! What were you THINKING?! WERE you even thinking AT ALL? Do you have a functioning brain? Do you understand...have ANY IDEA...even the slightest hint of what you have done?? You are so stupid! So gullible! YOU ARE AN IDIOT! So much for that intelligence you have liked about yourself all your life...that doesn't exist anymore." With each slam of shame, my breathing would get shallower, shoulders would hunch and I had a hard time looking myself (or my husband) in the eye. Sometimes I felt lifeless. Sometimes I frantically would wring my hands. I have also come to believe that my husband will never take me seriously again because I was so dumb to believe such a flagrant lie. And how do I move forward in my healing and rebuilding of our relationship when I am so fearful of being duped again? I don't want to feel that awful humiliation again.

Shame, shame, SHAME!

So, as with every other emotion that my recovery work brings up, I have the option of shoving it back where it came from or facing it head on and trying to heal it. But how do you heal shame? Do I just rationalize it away? I don't think so.

I did a search online about shame and have learned a few things. I found some wisdom from Brene Brown. I love her! She is one of my new favorite people. I found two great clips here and here and here. This is some of what stood out to me:

"Empathy is the antidote to shame. If you put shame in a petri dish, it needs 3 things to grow exponentially...secrecy, silence and judgement. It will creep into every crevice of your life and shape your life. If you put the same amount of shame in a petri dish and douse it with empathy, it cannot survive. Shame cannot survive being spoken."

"Shame depends on me buying into the belief that I'm alone."

"Shame breeds fear, blame and disconnection."

"Shame is the intensely painful feeling that we are unworthy of love and belonging."

"The less you talk about it, the more you got it."

I also found a clip that talks about "6 types of people who do not deserve to hear your shame story". Do we have people in our lives who we can share our story with and will sit with us in that pain, hold us through that journey? Do I? Is there someone in my life who has earned the right to hear my story? I'm not sure. I want to create a relationship like that.

Courage is telling our story from our heart. The way to get out from under shame is to tell our story.

So right now, by typing this blog post, I am turning the tables on my shame. When that monster (that looks like me, but is really shame) rears its head waving the finger in my face, I will take a breath and douse myself with empathy, understanding and love. I was vulnerable, I got burned. Yes. I may have responded by believing because I was afraid to face the truth or maybe I was inspired to give him a chance (multiple chances) to be honest. Whatever the reason, it is a part of my story and is some of the thread in the tapestry that makes me who I am today. I will look myself in the eye and say, "it's ok that you believed. I know it hurts. I love you."

Bam! Suckerpunch!...shame is KO!

Character Weaknesses - Part 1

I have more to say about my experiences with character weaknesses, but for today, this is part 1 that is on my mind....

In the 12 step phone in group I attend, we recently read step 6 in the LDS ARP manual, and it talks about over coming our character weaknesses. It felt like kind of an intense step because most of the time it seems my character weaknesses are blaringly right in front of my face. I look at them and agonize over them every day. I have come to believe that one of those character weaknesses is that I do not spend nearly enough time looking at my character strengths. Constantly beating ourselves up about our flaws is not the way God intends us to address our weaknesses.

However, every now and then I am faced with a situation where my character weaknesses take hold and I dig my heels in and completely justify my behavior or reaction. I tell myself, "you have every right to respond this way! In this case it isn't a weakness, it is an expected reaction to the situation." This happened to me this morning. I was faced with a situation with my in-laws where it tested what is already a weakness of mine.

I am not really a generous person. Because I live in so much fear of more loss, I have a hard time giving (time or things) if I am in a state of perceived shortage or struggling. I go into a mode of "my precious, my precious", trying desperately not to lose anything else. Now, on the flip side, my heart does desire to be generous. I just really struggle at it. And when I have been hurt by someone, it is WAY harder for me to be willing to give anything to them.

I have been hurt deeply by my in-laws. DEEPLY. My contact with them is pretty much non-existent at this point. They never call our house anymore, even to talk to our kids. They only have contact with my husband when he is at work, so as to not cross paths with me. We are in a very hard financial situation in our family right now and I had my husband approach them recently and ask if we could have some help so we could try and dig out of some of the debt we are drowning in and for some basic living. We proposed a plan and they said no. And it isn't because they don't have the means to help.

So this morning, the phone rings and it is the in-laws. My husband was home at the time and he talked with them. They were calling asking for some help. They wanted him to drive around meeting one of them and then the other to deliver something that neither of them had time to do themselves. He was supposed to leave for work in about 20 minutes. He agreed to do it, as he always does (he is generous with his/our time and money...sometimes to a fault).
My weaknesses were ROARING! "Why should we help them, when they wouldn't help us? Why can't they do this themselves? Why are their appointments more important than our need for an income (opening the store on time)? Why should we spend this money on gas and parking when they wouldn't help us?" and on and on and on it went. I tried not to ROAR at my husband. I explained my feelings and he pointed out that they have helped us many other times in different ways. I was in such a state that I could not see how they have. He quietly (yay for him overcoming his weakness in that moment and not biting off my head as he usually would!) reminded me of some times when they have helped. I was humbled and apologized to him.

And then I found out that he was an hour and a half late for work (because the list of favors kept growing) instead of the 45 minutes I originally thought. His work is a store we own...so the store was an hour and a half late opening.

ROAR! GRRR! HIIISSSSS!

How quickly the weaknesses return!

"This change of heart or desire is the purpose of step 6. "How?" you may cry. "How can I even begin to accomplish such a change?" Don't be discouraged by these feelings. Step 6, like the steps before it, may feel like an overwhelming challenge. As painful as it may be, you may have to admit, as we did, that recognizing and confessing your character weaknesses in steps 4 and 5 did not necessarily mean you were ready to give them up. You may realize that you still cling to old ways of reacting to and coping with stresses in life - maybe even more so now that you have let go of your addictions." (ARP manual, step 6.)

I know I need to change this about myself. But right now I just feel really grumpy about it. I don't want to be generous to people who have hurt me repeatedly.

But, Jesus Christ, our Example, gave EVERYTHING for all of us - not despite the pain He experienced, but BECAUSE of the pain He experienced - so that we can overcome our weaknesses and have a more full and beautiful life - here and beyond. He KNOWS what it feels like to be betrayed, lied about, abused, shamed, and abandoned. He didn't say, "I will only pay the price for those who are always kind and loving to me." If anything, His kindness extends even deeper to those who did hurt him.

"Give to him that asketh the, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away.
"Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, hate thine enemy.

"But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you;

"That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.

"For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye?

"Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." (Matthew 5:42-48 , 3 Nephi 12:42-48)

Sometimes, being a disciple of Jesus Christ is just down right tough. Worth it, but tough!

Addicted to FEAR

You know those jobs around the house that you put off and put off because they are so big and potentially require making a bigger mess in order to tackle the job? Cleaning out the garage or a storage closet, sorting through multiple children's multiple season and multiple size clothing, cutting down wild blackberry bushes that are threatening (or succeeding) to take over the back deck....you know the ones. They call at you repeatedly, 'I know you know I'm here. You can't ignore me forever. Hey you! Nudge nudge. I know you can hear me! Come on, don't be scared." I have those all around my house. But I also have them inside me.

Whether it is a weakness I know I need to dedicate more time to overcoming or something I need to repent of, spiritual house cleaning is a regular part of all of our lives. With the journey of recovery for us as spouses (and children) of addicts, there is a lot that calls to us for some cleaning and work. One of those things for me right now that is getting louder and louder is the fear inventory in step 3 in the Healing Through Christ manual. For that we are supposed to write a list of all of our fears - ALL of them - and then with each one we are to write how we know we will be ok even if it happens because the Lord will sustain and support us.

To me, this is a bigger job than any chore calling my name around my house. This is bigger than 3 garages. Number one on the list would be "I am afraid to write my fear inventory because of the mess I think it will make when I pull out and look at all of the other things I fear." I have stopped working on my program with HTC for awhile because I was scared to do this step. I told myself for awhile that I have to do everything in order in the book, and if I get stuck on something then I need to stay with that until I can move through it. But I was stuck for a long time. And then I stopped working my program because I just was too scared to do that step. It feels SO BIG. Recently though, as more disclosures or "finds" have happened in my marriage I have really needed to dive back into my healing program. So, I changed my opinion and just skipped past that scary part of the fear inventory. I felt good as I worked on the other parts of the step. But I still hear it calling to me. "Don't forget about me. You need to face me. I am a part of this program for a reason. HEY YOU!!! I KNOW YOU KNOW I'M STILL HERE!" Sigh.

But I am scared. Really scared. I have SO many fears. I have lived in fear most of my life. So the thought of even just taking the time to write those down is a bit daunting. Not to mention the energy that it will require to open that can of worms and look at each wiggly one and give it a name. It is so much easier (or so I tell myself) to keep them out of focus, stuffed in a can (or storage locker the size of an airplane hanger) off to the side where they can just keep each other company, and try and continue on with my life. But the problem with these fear worms is that unless they are dealt with, they just wiggle and squirm, causing trouble even when I am not paying attention to them.

And so today as I was driving, I thought about them again and knew I had to face them. But then I had a new perspective as I pondered on why I was hiding from them even though I knew I would heal faster if I faced them.

I think I am addicted to fear.

In pretty much every situation I face in my life, big or small, I look for what I can fear. Even something as simple as going to the bathroom...I do a visual sweep of the room, especially near where I will be, looking for spiders. I'm terrified of spiders. So I am always on the lookout for them. I can become paralyzed trying to make decisions because of fear. As a child I used to constantly ask "what if". I drove my parents crazy. I remember one day driving down the road and after a barrage of "what if" questions, I asked my dad, "what if that telephone pole broke and fell down on top of our car right as we drove under it?" That was the end of the conversation. He told me I couldn't talk again until we got to wherever we were going. The strange thing about that conversation is that I don't actually remember feeling scared about the possibility of our car being crushed by a telephone pole. I was just investigating whether that should be feared or not.

Sometimes looking for what is to fear is a wise thing and can provide safety. Other times it is just a direct path into CrazyTown. If we look at the definition of addiction as a behavior that one repeatedly chooses, even when it is detrimental to their own well being or the well being of their loved ones, and has negative consequences, yet they can't seem to stop doing it....that fits the bill with me and fear. I seek it out even though I know it isn't helping...even though I know it is causing harm. And I dwell on it, over and over again. But the CrazyTown part is that I'm not looking to let it go. And I'm rarely willing to listen to suggestions on how to let it go. Sometimes I don't even WANT to let it go. Fear is familiar to me. I have learned how to function in fear (sort of). When I feel safe and don't feel the constant beating drum of my fears, I become scared that something big is going to come along and give me something new to be afraid of. Then I become afraid of the unknown, and back into my familiar, fear-filled cycles I go. So I guess another fear added to my list is that I'm afraid to learn to live without fear.

"Hello, old friend. You are a pest to have around, but you are familiar....so I will let you stay."

The second part of the fear inventory rarely comes into my consideration...the part that says I am to acknowledge that God will support me even if that happens. Stop and consider that statement. Even if my fear comes to pass...God will support and help me through that. There is power in that statement. He knows exactly how to overcome fears and exactly how to heal and help me when my fears actually happen.

HE KNOWS HOW! And He wants to help!

So what am I going to do about this? Well, just like every other path of healing from addiction...I will take it one step at a time, recognizing what I cannot control...not fearing it, but trusting God will take care of it. One spiritual squat at a time. Look at what I can control - I can start by writing down one or two fears each day AND acknowledge that GOD WILL SUSTAIN ME EVEN IF IT HAPPENS. If I get brave, I can look at more. Line upon line.

Isn't it interesting that an exercise in facing our fears is in the step about trusting God???

Spiritual squats

The other day I bent over to pick something up off the floor and my legs almost gave out from under me. I had no idea why my legs felt so weak. A little while later (and many times bending over to pick something up...an occupational hazard as a mother) I remembered that a day or two before my family had gone to clean our church building. One of the jobs I had was to clean both sides of all the glass doors. It is a big building, and there are a LOT of glass doors. My 8 year old joined me on this task and we did a lot of squats as we cleaned and dried up and down the doors. Occasionally, well, more than occasionally we had to redo a door because one of my younger kids would come running up and see me on the other side of the door and plaster their handprint on the glass to say hi. It is not a stretch to say in the space of about an hour, I cleaned almost every door at least twice.

That's a lot of squats. My body for two days afterwards proclaimed, "I protesteth!"

At the strangest times, even just standing still, one of my quads would give way and my legs would buckle. I was wobbly, my balance was a bit off and there was definite discomfort. But, knowing what I do about our physical bodies, my legs actually GAINED strength from that exercise. If I keep it up (which sad to say I'm not inclined to continue doing a bunch of squats everyday), my muscles will become stronger, my balance will improve and I will not experience the same discomfort...until I push myself beyond my comfort zone again.

This got me to thinking...

In my 12 step group for spouses of addicts, this week we read step 3. It is all about trusting in God. This is one area I have struggled with from the time I joined the church 17 years ago. Some stages in my life it has been more of a struggle than others. Discovering the multiple betrayals by my husband deeply impacted my ability to trust ANYONE. Including myself. I felt everyone, including myself, had let me down. I had no idea how to just trust God and give Him my burden to carry. It sounded so easy, so simple.

I tried to visualize the words "my trust" written on a pretty piece of paper and wrapped up in a present with a bow that I handed to the Lord. I tried to visualize myself kneeling at his feet and asking Him to take it. I said it multiple times in prayer..."God, I give this to you. Please take it and take care of me."

I noticed no difference. I still felt distant and alone. It was as if I was on the other side of the glass door and couldn't access Him or hear Him. I knew He was there, busily working. But I couldn't seem to get to Him. Every now and then I could sense a small wave or smile from the other side of the glass letting me know He sees me too. But it was still so frustrating to not be able to get to Him.

I am sure that I have left many of my own hand prints on the glass as I tried to get to Him or even as I have tried to work "with" Him. And almost every time, He would have had to clean off my smudges as I fumble my way along.

So how is it done? How do I come to trust Him? If that is essential to my growth and healing - which I know it is - how do I do it?

One spiritual squat at a time.

My little children do not have the physical strength to spend an hour doing squats cleaning windows. They would tire out before we were even half way done. I know this, and because I know their ability, I do not expect them to do that job on their own. They were given smaller tasks suited to their strengths, abilities, height and attention span.

God does not expect me (or anyone else) to be able to do more than we are capable. Yes, we are expected to stretch. But there is a limit to that as well. If we stretch for too long or too far, we will injure ourselves. He is not asking me to give Him my complete trust right now. He knows I am not capable of doing that. But He is asking me to give all I can. To stretch. To work up a bit of a sweat. To be willing to have wobbly legs.

Here are some ways I do spiritual squats:
-pray, even or ESPECIALLY when it is hard.
-read my scriptures, even or ESPECIALLY when it's hard...and look for evidence in the scriptures of how others have trusted God and how He blessed them.

Nephi is an amazing example of this. He was willing to try - "And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them." 1Ne 3:7. He trusted that God would lead him, even when he didn't know the way: "And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do." 1Ne 4:6. He was obedient, following the promptings he received, even though it was hard....VERY HARD: "Therefore I did obey the voice of the Spirit." 1Ne 4:18.

-look for tender mercies from God in my life and show gratitude for those gifts.
-testify to others of how God has blessed me.
-express a desire to trust...or even a desire to WANT to trust and ask God to build on that.
-look at and learn from past experiences where I have tried and was successful and was not successful. Ask God to teach me what happened in each situation. Don't beat myself up for when I wasn't successful. Learn from it.
-act on promptings or impressions I receive, even if I'm not sure. The ONLY way to learn the difference between my voice, the voice of the Spirit or "other" voices, is by experience. I can use the knowledge we have been given about how the Spirit works to try and decipher the source of my impression. But the only real test (so far as I have learned) is to act.

"For behold, the Spirit of Christ is given to every man, that he may know good from evil; wherefore, I show unto you the way to judge; for every thing which inviteth to do good, and to persuade to believe in Christ, is sent forth by the power and gift of Christ; wherefore ye may know with a perfect knowledge it is of God." Moroni 7:16 "And behold, there were divers ways that he did manifest things unto the children of men, which were good; and all things which are good cometh of Christ." Moroni 7:24.

And if I find I followed the wrong voice? Well, God has an amazing glass cleaner that can remove any smudge I leave. He can even repair the entire glass if I really mess up and break it.

God teaches us line up on line. That is how the Savior learned as well. I can learn to trust Him line upon line, baby step by baby step. Squat by squat.

Yes, it is hard. VERY HARD. But we can do hard things. We can do ALL THINGS with Christ. We don't have to do this alone. He doesn't want us to do this alone. That is not His plan. His plan is for us to try, to get wobbly legs, get off balance, FALL OVER, and then, using the strength we have built up in our spiritual legs by the exercises we have already done that build our strength, TAKE THE LORD'S HAND, and try again. Each time gaining strength, courage and stability.

Occasionally we will fall and have a hard time getting back up again. Sometimes we are just so TIRED. He will wait for us, as we spend a bit of time on our knees (or flat on our face on the ground) resting, praying, regaining our courage and belief in ourselves, and allowing His power to restore us with enough strength to lift our leg. Just one leg at a time.

That is how I am coming to trust God.