Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro

I have a cool bishop. About 6 years ago he and his wife and friends climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro. The hike took them 9 days. 9 days! Wrap your mind around that-that's more than one week doing the same thing,  with the same people; no tv or bathroom. And what do you do if you run out of chocolate? When he started telling me about the climb, it was just a story. Yet by the way he talked about it, I could tell it was a treasured memory--truly an achievement. Quickly, this fascinating story turned into quite a metaphor for me for my own journey. Here are some of my takeaways:

Hire some guides
Although an experienced hiker, bishop hired several local guides to go with them. These guides likely climb the mountain several times a year. Their bodies are acclimatized to the mountain air, they know the trails and the demands required to be successful. Bishop told me he was inspired by them. In some of his past hiking experiences with scouts, he would go ahead and then would turn around and cheer the little scounts on. But the Kilimanjaro guides didn't do that; they stayed by the newbie-hiker's side, encouraging them each step of the way.

As a good friend texted me today, "Skills for coping are critical, but so are mentors." He was referring to emotions surrounding an addiction and relying on others, but I think it ties in very well to this metaphor. When I think about guides, I think about sponsorship, and how these wonderful people are hiking side-by-side with a newbie. I think about our Savior. I cling onto faith that He is really there with me every single step. I think about my bishop(s) and their willingness to cultivate and help me aspire to have the Holy Spirit in my life.

Poli-Poli (slowly-slowly)
The hike up the mountain is a potentially dangerous one if not taken at a good pace. The local guides frequently said, "poli-poli" as a gentle reminder to the hikers to take it slow because they knew with each new height the body need to acclimatize. The air gets thin and the body literally needs to make new blood cells to increase oxygen levels.

With each new height in recovery my bottom-line creeps up a little higher and I will have periods of time where I'm out-of-breath as I come to terms with that level of commitment. Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro is not a comfortable hike and the body experiences fatigue and headaches; how coincidental that it reacts like that with sobriety, too. Your body is not exactly the same as your hiking buddy's: you may acclimatize at a different pace than they do. Remember no matter which height of the mountain you are on: poli-poli. Don't run faster than you have strength.

Climb high, then come down and rest
I think this was the most intriguing strategy of all. Bishop's group would climb to a point higher on the mountain than they'd reached yet, only to be instructed to descend some to rest. To me, that sounds discouraging! I'd argue, "We're wasting time and energy! You're telling me I'm going to rewalk the path that I just walked?" This was actually another strategy for acclimatizing. As I understand it, as they hiked higher they were exposing their bodies to thinner air stimulating the need for blood cell back up! Then they would set up camp down in a place where it was easier to breath as they rested. By morning, they'd hope their bodies were prepared so they could successfully and more easily make the next part of their climb.

I think that moments in the temple, reading the scriptures, attending church and fervent connection with the Spirit are resting times. These moments are instrumental to our being able to "make the climb" the next day or even next hour. Recently I've felt impressed to follow some "simple" steps. I've done my best at being obedient and even had some days where I felt like I could walk 22 hours straight! I found a moment to rest and reflect everyday but the other day when it was go time again, I didn't want to leave. I lost sight of my guide and my goal and selfishly disobeyed His counsel. As a result I lost my breath, became discouraged and only saw the entire mountain! It was very overwhelming and I don't like how that feels.

Conversely, from my last week's experiences I know I'm capable of reaching those heights now. I will continue having faith in my guide, the Savior and try again today. Let's keep climbing--poli-poli.

Photo Credit

Resting

Sometimes I want to curl up in a ball, so no one can see me because I'm so small.

But really I want to be seen, for someone to walk with me. It's not realistic for someone to hold my hand every step of the way, but I really wish someone could. Who literally could be next to me. That I wouldn't feel pangs of embarassment when I show myself.

At this moment, I literally don't believe I can do it. Even with such an inspirational story I heard from my bishop tonight I left wanting a guide. I feel very alone. In my marriage. In my ward. In Washington.

What's the opposite of addiction?

Tim wrote something on his blog that gave me an immediate perspective shift and I don't want to forget it, so I am reposting it here:

The opposite of addiction is not sobriety, it's connection.

Life is...

Today I feel good.

Yesterday I felt good.

Friday I felt good.

Life is good. Especially when I look at it through the right lens.

I love the Stephen & Sean Covey books and what they teach me about positive self-paradigms. One of my favorite stories I've come across is this one (read it, I beg of you!):

King Louis had been taken from his throne and imprisoned. His young son, the prince, was taken by those who dethroned the king. They thought that inasmuch as the kings son was heir to the throne, if they could destroy him morally, he would never realize the great and grand destiny that life has bestowed upon him.

They took him to a community far away, and there they exposed the lad to every filthy and vile thing that life could offer. They exposed him to foods the richness of which would quickly make him a slave to appetite. They used vile language around him constantly. They exposed him to lewd and lusting women. They exposed him to dishonor and distrust. He was surrounded twenty-four hours a day by everything that could drag the soul of a man as low as one could slip. For over six months he had this treatment--but not once did the young lad buckle under pressure. Finally after intensive temptation. They questioned him. Why had he not submitted himself to these things--why had he not partaken? These things would provide pleasure, satisfy his lusts, and were desirable; they were all his. The boy said, "I cannot do what you ask for I was born to be a king." 

I do not write this story to remind myself that dang, I am not that good, but because it reminds me who I am, why I am on Earth, what I am striving to become and how grateful I feel for my testimony of the Gospel today! Even though I have moments where I want to throw in the towel, leave this life, or just be someone I'm not, I somehow get over those moments and keep on trying. Why? Because I know God is real.

Life is good, whether or not I believe that tomorrow, it is still good.

It's not about chocolate donuts

My favorite part of the Ensign is the back pages where people share short stories and their testimonies of different principles of the Gospel. Whenever I read your blogs, my fellow blogging friends, it's like reading an extended edition of the Ensign. :) Your stories are inspirational and very honest. I love them!

This morning I grabbed a chocolate donut intending on eating it after my Cheerios. As I ate my cereal I pondered over the last couple of days. I started praying asking God what He would have me do today. Immediately the "answer" came, "Not eat that donut."

You have no idea how lightning quick I shut that thought process/impression down and attributed it to my own thinking, not as God answering a simple prayer. But just in case, I decided to not pray again until I had eaten that donut that way He couldn't tell me not to eat it.

Of course, I started to breakdown this whole thought process while I was eating it which didn't allow me to enjoy the donut all that much.

I am a follower of Christ. I am learning exact obedience, and desire to submit my will to His unless...

...He asks me to do something that I believe is too hard to do

...It feels better to entertain lustful and unholy thoughts

...Following a prompting will make me miss my favorite TV show

...He comes between me and my donut

You get the idea. My list can go on and on and I'm just becoming more aware of the insignificant things that I keep placing in between me and my Savior. He is so good. He is compassionate. I am nothing without Him, and am so much more whole and at peace when I center my life around Him.

It's not about the donut. This is about me recognizing that I need to give my whole self to Christ.

Read this post Everyday

"I challenge you to commit to reading the scriptures daily. 

Do not go to bed tonight until you have read."

-Elder Michael John U. Teh of the Seventy, March 2013 Ensign

Vulnerability

From my daily journal: March 7, 2013

I met with Bishop tonight. And right now I feel angry at myself. I am talking down to myself like no other. I'm embarrassed on how I portrayed myself. Bishop knows nothing about me. This was an opportunity to make good impressions--maybe to let him see the committed side of me. But no, I'm full of eye-rolls and pride. Why even see him at all if I'm not willing to do what he asks me to do?

He assures me I'm not a burden. He'll need to keep assuring me because lately that's all I feel in my bones. Shame. Shame. Shame. Inability to be vulnerable. Fearful of feeling. Fearful of chastisement. But I want what's on the other side of vulnerability, fear and chastisement; at least what I hear is there: Joy, forgiveness, wholeheartedness. What is holding me back?

Journal: Dear Amy

I have always been a fairly diligent journal writer since I turned 8 and received one as a gift. Yes, early on there were six month gaps between entries, but I applaud my young self for keeping at it, because there is so much I treasure and memories I have because of my journaling.

I have a journal which I named Amy. (She was kinda like an awesome therapist ;) ) and I remember that I once wrote in her about my first time looking at pornography--and even to Amy, an inanimate object, I felt a certain level of shame for sharing that I went back and tore out that page. A small shred of paper remained though and tonight I went looking for it. 

Reflecting back, I recalled my first time viewing porn was when I was about 11 years old, but now I am beginning to doubt that. You'd think that moment would be frozen in time-which ironically the first image is still there as if I'd viewed it yesterday. But this ripped out journal entry was from late 13-early 14 years old. 

Here is part of my entry that I wrote. Note the burden of secrecy I was carrying. But also I'm kinda proud that my little 14 year old self had it somewhat together and knew where she needed to turn. 

Sept 26, 2000
Even though seminary is boring it has helped me with advice and things that I need to tell people about. Now don't think of me as a bad person, but there are so many bad things in the world today. Stay away from the wordly things. Stay as close to The Lord as possible. Yes, I did something that I regret and I really regret it. I have only told 2 people about it and that all. So, even though you are a book, there are people reading and I just don't want to say yet."

Oh, but only ten pages later Shame was taking its toll.

August 14, 2001
I went to a Bishops interview. I told myself that I was going to tell him. But as the days got closer, I knew I was going to chicken out and I did and I lied. I know. I am a bad person. 

No! I want to scream out now and hug myself and tell her no, youre not a bad person! 

And, oh the irony of the final entry. At this point, I was just over 17 years old. I had just exposed all my secrets a few months prior and now felt hopeful. But, I think I also thought my woes were over. 

December 2003
Amy-this journal is thick. I came to the conclusion after skimming through this journal that my life was totally bombarded and confused, but I think this journal shows change. In early entries, for years I fret, complain, and worried constantly. After doing as I should new struggles arise, but old ones slowly dissappear. A lot of what I struggle with seems to be typical teen problems. I have a feeling things will get better. Things are good. Live life happily. That's my advice, because I feel I've wasted too many years of my life. 

This journal holds many secrets. More than I would tell one person. I am so happy to be putting it away for many years. So long, Amy!

I only hope my current journal will end on such a positive vein, too. That I again will feel changed, full of hope, and with faith in The Lord; to just move forward and to live life happily.

You're in my bubble

I have categorized my life into three bubbles:
1) my recovery bubble--aka cultivating Wholehearted Me
2) my marriage bubble
3) everything else and all the relationship entailed therein

I feel like giving energy to one bubble means lack of energy and attention in another. It's a juggling act. Anxiety comes when I feel like I am investing too much time in the Me bubble.

Yes, I've heard it over and over-- you need to take care of yourself! Once you take care of yourself and are a more wholehearted individual the other areas will improve. I can believe that. The problem is I don't think the Marriage bubble has the stamina to last until the Me bubble is better. And with every hour I spend in the Me bubble, the Marriage bubble actually seems more difficult to manage.

This doesn't make sense. My brain is rattling. I am having a hard time doing the hard things. I want to run away.

Workbook: Phases

I'm currently studying the shame cycle and specifically the control/release phase. LifeStar puts it nicely: ...the shame based person will enter into the shame cycle either by acting out (release phase) or by using compulsive behaviors as a cover up or means of control (control phase). I've learned that the higher stress moments typically means more energy is put into the control phase.

In my experience, without understanding this as a shame cycle phenomenon, I have always referred to this as my Rubberband Snaps! I begin to stretch like a rubberband but eventually I go as far as I can until one end has to give and *snap* the pressure is gone and I'm just a normal relaxed rubberband again. Here are a few examples from my life that I used to refer to as Rubberband Snaps:

Finances
(Control Phase) Things are financially tight with very little wiggle room in the budget. Even purchasing a shirt or a new pair of shoes could compromise not being able to pay a bill. I'd run our numbers accordingly and then restrict myself from any clothing shopping, telling myself that I have plenty or anything else that would talk me out of making the purchase.

(Release Phase) Like clockwork, every third month the financial stress would surmount and I'd just toss aside the budget and spend upwards to $100 on clothes during one trip. Sometimes to relieve myself of some of the guilt, I'd end up returning one item, but this was just the bridge back into the control phase again.

Nutrition
(Control Phase) I am a chocoholic/lover of all things sugary. At one point I started recording the amount of sugar I consumed and determined to do something about it. I read so many books that would surely scare me out of eating sugar again. I measured and kept diaries of my intake. I allowed myself treats but within reason.

(Release Phase) A lousy, depressing day hit and I are markedly more sugar than I had the past six weeks. The amount of shame and hopelessness that I'd ever feel good inside was an unpleasant consequence of this phase.

Sexually
(Control Phase) Sundays are typically my reset button. I make a determination that this week will be better than the one before. My scripture study starts strong, and I have work for the first four days of the week which help buffer me acting inappropriately and keep me distracted.

(Release Phase) My day off rolls around and the playing field is wide open! For the last two months (basically since I've started this process), I have acted out consistently on my day off. And as you can see in my last post (a Friday), I am flooded with shame.

My workbook tells me that recognizing these extremes is the first-step toward breaking the cycle of shame. Lets hope so!

I have one anxiety though, that perhaps just going to my new therapist to learn about sexual addiction, writing this blog, and checking others blogs everyday is its own control phase. I keep imagining this big, looming release monster hiding around a corner and its gonna hop out and consume me.

Rock Bottom: I Haven't Hit It

I read about people hitting Rock Bottom all the time. I don't know exactly what that feels like and don't believe I've hit it. One of the things about recovery, and my decision to start down this path was to prevent hitting that bottom point, because it sure sounds miserable. I plan on paving the path now hopefully to protect myself from it.

But I think I'm doing this all wrong.

I believe there are generally times when I am motivated and willing to do the work. But, mostly I think my attempts to never hit "rock bottom" is closely related to pride. Rock bottom sounds painful, and I don't want that. Repentance and restitution is painful, and I have kept myself so closed off to feeling chastised even though I know it's a necessary part of the process. I am scared to feel humble.

Today I feel miserable and depressed. I acted out today; it was on my mind the minute I woke up. I tried to fight it, but I don't really know how.  And even though I told myself that this time I wasn't going to let the shame in, that this was going to be a shame-free ride, it came. It always does. Bring me a bottle of pills.

A Note from the Addict Me

Dear Me,

I see how you are feeling today. Perhaps it would be best to withdraw yourself from your family for a while. Yes, they should be the ones you are closest to, but for now you may be better without them. You hurt them too much. Everything you do will only cut them more, so it's better to isolate so you can't do that anymore. Yes, the isolation will hurt them a little bit, but it will hurt much more if you stay.

Better yet, if you get away now you won't have to feel guilty for flirting just a little. You can date again. You can have a fresh-start. You can be honest right from the beginning, and your communication will be perfect, and you will live happily ever after.

Sincerely, the Addict Me



Dear Addict Me, 

I think I'm wise enough now to admit I wouldn't be doing that in the name of my recovery. It would just be a big bite of indulgence into my addiction. And the selfishness of such an act directly affects my son. And when I think about that, I feel immensely sad and heart-broken. 

In fact, right now as I'm typing this I'm listening to Elder Oaks recent talk Protect the Children. He teaches that if I look upon marriage as a mere contract that may be entered into at pleasure...and severed at the first difficulty...is an evil meriting severe condemnation, especially where children are made to suffer. My son would suffer, and I don't want to do that to him.

You, Addict Me, promise to please without hurting anyone. It's so convincing most of the time. But that argument won't work anymore. I will continue to fight it. I have the Lord, friends, and leaders on my side who know and have experience. I will choose to take advice from them.

Sincerely, the Bigger Me

Journaling: First Group

I received a surprise text last night from my dear former bishop informing me that a neighboring stake had a women's group! He knew what kind of group I was seeking, and that I preferred all females, so this was a welcomed surprise. I didn't have much time to prepare, so I just made myself go rather than give myself time to talk myself out of it.

Let me just get straight to the point: it wasn't the right type of meeting for me.

Yes, it took me a bit before I realized that the lady was changing all the words in the manual from "addicted" to "circumstance" or "healing", and that's because the audience was one of women with loved ones with an addiction. Oi! It didn't help that they were reviewing step one: honesty! I felt like the most dishonest individual in there--nodding my head some, not revealing my secret identity.

I actually pulled out a paper and vigorously "took notes", when in reality I was writing down all the generalizations the leader kept saying about addicts, and everything else I disagreed with. Ugh. This meeting was not for me, and honestly I still don't appreciate much of her preaching like she knew all about how addicts think. But....it is what it is, and I didn't say anything about it so I guess I shouldn't now.

Towards the end of our time, I realized that despite it being the wrong meeting, they were still using the same manual and that I could probably still get something good out of this. Honestly, my take away message was this paragraph:

"The central feature of pride is enmity--enmity towards God and enmity toward our fellow men. Enmity means 'hatred toward, hostility to, or a state of opposition.' It is the power by which Satan wishes to reign over us. 

Pride is essentially competitive in nature. We pit our will against God's. When we direct our pride toward God, it is in the spirit of 'my will and not thine be done.' ..."

And that, my new blogger friends, is who I have been this week--the self-proclaimed commander in chief hanging onto my pride and its not getting me anywhere.

Surprisingly, although I bolted out the door quickly, I let the embarrassment consume me and the tears come for only a few seconds but that was all I needed. I determined that the Spirit could've touched me had I let it. And now as I reflect back on the night and how I feel at this moment, I think it did. Perhaps a brick off of my wall of pride did get chipped tonight. I don't feel angry or bitter right now and that is something to celebrate. That, and my bishop's birthday. Happy Birthday, Bishop.

All of Me

I feel incredibly sad right now. Borderline angry. Mostly just sad. I just got home. I've lost all my energy. I just want to curl up in bed and cry myself to sleep. I don't want to go to work. I want to leave my son at preschool.

I just went to the church building to play the piano. I regularly play the same songs over and over. The song I've primarily been working on is one I learned during my teenage years. I loved the song, listened to it all the time, and finally sat down to deconstruct it note by note. Although I practiced it a lot, I didn't practice it slowly. As a result, I ended up adding my own notes, omitting too many and the tempo wasn't consistent. To one unfamiliar with the song, it probably sounded just fine. Yet I noticed spots where improvisation took over, as well as slurs, bumps, and incorrect keys were pounded. Likewise, there were spots I was completely unaware that I was playing it wrong. I was just happy to finally show off my piano playing skills to my friends who also knew this song (some of which were also the ones who pointed out my flaws).

Once I got married, the amount of time I spent at the piano dropped dramatically since I was hardly around one. This song I once loved I could now only play two lines from memory two years ago. Since then, I've pulled it out more regularly and just kind of dinked around with it. As the familiarity came back I immediately started playing it faster.....and then a little bit faster. Until suddenly I was playing it just as quickly as I did at 16 years old again! Strangely enough, my fingers were also playing the notes the same way I did at 16 years old, too.

I slowed down. Reeeeaaaaalllllly slowed down that I almost bored myself with how slow I forced myself to go. I am really trying to retrain my fingers to do this the right way--the way the composer meant for it to be played. But, it didn't seem to matter. I've practiced this one page over 10x each day I sit down at a slower pace, but the minute I start to pick up speed my fingers snap back to how I used to play it.

It is so frustrating. Sometimes I laugh at how interesting it is. But, today I just felt angry. I was in the church building and I just wanted to CURSE SO LOUD!

I finally stopped myself from playing and just left. As I drove home, I realized that the anger wasn't truthfully coming from the piano playing. However, this song brings back so many memories from my youth. I think about my friends, my family, how life was, who I was, and where I am today. I compare yesteryear with today and think about how much I just want to go back. How today just seems impossible. And when these feelings of discouragement arose, I naturally put more passion into my playing. I played harder and faster--messed up more--got discouraged--tried to slow down--insert more emotions--played harder and faster--messed up more--more discouragement. See where I'm going?

I'm sure I could turn this all into some sort of metaphor. I'm just bubbling to the brim with emotion over the littlest things now, and it's almost just as unmanageable as the addiction itself. Someday, my brain will retrain my fingers to play the song correctly. And someday my brain will be better balanced in regards to the addiction. But both, I sense are going to take a reeeeeeaaaaalllly long time and will require me to just slow down. *sigh*

Workbook

I've kind of looked forward to getting to this point:

Only a month in and I'm already on Workbook 3. It seems ridiculously fast, but I'm going to break this one in well.

Where there is addiction there has been shame. To heal the addiction we need to heal the shame.

Chapter Two

Being released from probation was a good thing, in my opinion, because all of the sudden I had the opportunity to take the sacrament. I wasn't going to take it lightly. I journaled about my concerns and anxieties of this moment. I really tried hard to center my thoughts and actions on Christ throughout the following weeks. For a moment, a few weeks, I was doing very well spiritually. I felt fortified and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was going to be able to do this; to stand on my own two feet!

But, temptations were just around the corner.

I started attending my new ward. I was reserved and shy. I focused on just trying to make Sunday a day of worship. I fasted for 3-4 Sundays in a row. I knew if I wanted to keep cultivating the spirit it would need to be a conscious everyday effort. The high desires to read my scriptures daily dwindled but I reminded myself that commitment was continuing after the desires are gone sometimes. I did continue my studies, but obviously wasn't on guard enough. Feelings of loneliness and bitterness and shame were prevalent as I struggled with being involved in my new ward.

Around Feb 7 I became fixated on a thought of pornography. Doing as a I regularly do, I discounted the severity of it, and even though I eventually knew I was caving into that temptation that day, I typed in a general search term that was innocent enough that "I wasn't really looking."

I sought out porn for the first time at age 11. It wasn't my biggest vice, but it was always there on and off throughout my youth. But then I had several years of sobriety from it. I got married and never really desired to look at it. But when a earthquake shook our marriage, I dove right in. I was a mess. An absolute mess. I discounted my actions though as something little, that once I got my spiritual self back in control and focused my attention back on Christ, this ugliness would be suppressed again. Although everyday acting out changed to once a month acting out, I still decided it was best to share that information with my bishop. That was hard. Mostly because of everything else that we were trying to work on, I felt this just dug my grave a little deeper. Surprisingly, it was never really treated like a big deal. We didn't talk about it again and it was never even mentioned at my DC. All of this just reinforced that it was just a little problem and that it will go away with time. I never brought it back up again.

So fast forward to Feb 7 again, this search that I made ironically led me to a website titled Rowboat and Marbles a blog about pornography addiction, specifically from a Mormon standpoint. The first article I read was long, but it was just for me! Everything this guy was writing was about me. I continued to read this blog and like clockwork, acted out after reading. I guess the text was triggering enough for me. It was/is bizarre. But each and every article resonated with me. Could it be? Am I a sex addict?

The next article I read was written by Sidreis' and that's when I truly decided to reach out and get some help. First, I texted my former bishop to ask him about sex addiction groups in the area. Next, I emailed my therapist of the last couple of years and asked her if she thought I had a sexual addiction. Bishop called me the next day, and I was grateful for a fairly comfortable, respectful conversation. Both he and my therapist referred me to a new therapist who specialized in sexual addictions.

But the back and forth battle in my mind prevailed. Everyday I talked myself out of believing I fit the bill. I was kidding myself. I didn't have an addiction. I can take care of this, just like in the past. I mean, until now my viewings were months and weeks apart! Nevertheless, all this denial made me more depressed and full of shame--don't even get me started!

I decided to meet with this new therapist because I thought he could help me determine if this was truly a problem, or not. I also made an appointment with my new bishop because my spiritual resolve by this point, was completely gone.

And now I'm on this journey of recovery. I am a slave to my addiction. I can see that now. My entire youth years were up and down due this addiction and the shame that always accompanied it. I still know so little. I'm still trying to be honest with myself. I'm really trying to not use a title of addict as justification to do what I'm doing. Rather, I'm trying to let this awareness help me boil this part of me I hate to the surface so I can extract it and get rid of it!!!

Honestly, when I read Sidreis' blog, I was filled with hope. She bore testimony of the Atonement and how she truly felt it's affect and power in her life more than she's ever known before. She also made mistakes, but she was changed.

I believe recovery is my way to change. To actually become a new person through the atonement of Christ. For me to truly Go and Sin No More, I believe this journey/process has to be walked so I can truly forsake these behaviors and forgive myself.

So there you have it. I've been on this journey for one month now. It's been a big headache. I'm so weak and give in a lot to my carnal desires. I am withdrawing myself from my family and the Lord. I am filled with shame and embarrassment at myself. I'm trusting the process, as my therapist has asked me to do. I am recognizing more and more my dual nature: the addict me and the me that just wants to do what's right. Before I would only let one show it's face. But now, within just a few weeks, both of these individuals are at the surface--it's a face off everyday. That's the best way I can explain it. May the best me win.

Chapter One

Moving day had come.

I was really anxious to move and to switch wards. But most of my anxiety came from losing such a huge support: my bishop. I had a disciplinary council earlier that year, and was given temporary probation. I viewed that restriction as a motivation to continue on my path of spiritual edification. The goal was to get me to serve and to spark that feeling and desire for the spirit to be fully present in my life again. This was hard for me to do--pride has had a huge hold on my heart. In my final week, I met once more with my bishop. Because I was still on probation, I felt I needed his permission to take the sacrament. He said he viewed me in a favorable state and that I should go forth and make a splash in my new ward--accept a calling, do my visiting teaching, etc...

I sat across that desk from him and just stared. At that moment I really tried to put words to what I was feeling. I don't recall all the specifics, yet I remarked, "But I'm not changed." I don't know what more I expected from this journey, but after meeting with him during the year and "paying my dues" I expected to feel different; to be different. 

I left that final meeting unfulfilled--dissatisfied with myself. Someone can tell me, you're being too hard on yourself." But it doesn't matter. I know what I am feeling inside. God knows what I am feeling inside. I have hardly become something more than I was the year prior. My heart was still in the same place--protected by pride. And worst of all, when I searched myself the following evenings, I could sense the same carnal desires lurking underneath. I believed wholeheartedly, "This is all going to happen again."

Continue to Chapter 2

Read My Story before Chapter One

The Day I Took My First Step

I'm a recovery-infant. I just took my first steps one month ago, but still prefer to crawl most of the time.

I've been so inspired by the many honest women out there who have shared their experiences with sexual addiction, and their hope in Christ as they walk the road of recovery. One month ago I was in the muck of my addiction, had just lived a terrible weekend of acting out time and time again. But then I came across Sidreis' blog .

This moment is glued in time.

As I read, I was sitting on my rocking chair, curled up in a blanket crying tears of sorrow and relief all at the same time. I was grateful for the feeling of normalcy that momentarily shooed the depression away. She led me to other women just like me, and now I have a sounding board to share my feelings, without the shame that typically accompanies it. Her blog is heaven sent. She is heaven sent! Thank you, Sidreis for encouraging me to take my first steps down this road of recovery.