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).
Friday, 24 January 2014
Tuesday, 21 January 2014
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.
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.
Tuesday, 14 January 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, 4 January 2014
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.
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.
Tuesday, 24 December 2013
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!
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!
Saturday, 21 December 2013
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!
Thursday, 19 December 2013
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.
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.
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