First ARP Meeting Worries & Tender Mercies

I met with my Lifestar therapist for the last time a couple of night ago. We went through 4 workbooks (all of Phase 1) together, but for various reasons we are now separating ways and I have been left to question my therapeutic goals.

On my drive home from his office I decided to make a pitstop at the temple. I wanted direction. I wanted motivation. I wanted to sort out thoughts from all along the spectrum of life.

Then I came home and pulled out my journal and received a subtle impression as I wrote. It wasn't  absolute words that I heard, rather feelings and words that I was trying to discern. I carefully wrote out what I believe God was trying to tell me. Moments like this help me validate my Heavenly Father will speak to me, personally.

Therapy has been incredibly wonderful and I've been very proactive in utilizing this resource, however I'm not so consistent in my spiritual endeavors. I believe that it's time now to channel my recovery efforts in a very sincere and serious way in a spiritual direction. I determined the first thing I needed to do was attend my stake's ARP meeting.

Yesterday night I was full of worry. I worried that I'd be the only female. I worried that someone I knew might be there. I worried that it wouldn't be for me. I worried I'd be too prideful to even make the meeting worth it. I worried my husband would be mad at me for taking another night away from home. I worried about everything!!! During my drive there I remembered this quote, rather I think the Lord brought it to my remembrance. I knew the discomfort was just a sign that I was on the edge of change; good things would come if I leaned into the discomfort.

Despite all of this worry yesterday, I was blessed with an incredible amount of courage.

I was 5 minutes early. No one was there. I sat outside the high council office. Was I in the right place? The Stake President came out of his office followed by.......I couldn't believe it.....my bishop! What?? I was a little surprised and embarrassed that they saw me sitting there, but then I decided that this was a small tender mercy because I love my Bishop. And do you know how some people make you feel better just by being around them? Well, my Bishop is kind of like that--just a simple unexpected hello from him boosted my courage a little more.

The meeting started. I was happy to see that I was not the only female. And I took more courage knowing the facilitator was "a LifeStar guy" as my therapist told me. The meeting was somewhat different than I expected. I've heard that in a general ARP meeting that people don't share their addictions and that things stay at a very general level. (That was actually one of my worries--that a general meeting wouldn't be a good fit for me.) But that's not how this group rolls. During introductions we were asked to share our name, addiction, and stating sobriety if we felt comfortable with it.

I thought for sure, I would pass during introductions, but my heart took courage and I shared my addiction and sobriety! *Breathe* I didn't feel alone! Not one wit. Thinking about it later, I found a lot of comfort in the fact that we shared our addictions. Otherwise, guaranteed I would've believed I was the "only one". We all know that feeling.

And, then guess what. I even shared later! I felt like I was at testimony meeting at girl's camp--you know that moment when everyone else, but you has borne their testimony. Your heart begins pounding and you want to share, but you're not exactly sure what to say? Courage overcame me again. I shared in the last five minutes how excited I was to be there. I realized this was my ideal meeting: a good mix of educated facilitating with a spiritual core. Seriously so blessed.

I even ended up staying afterwards casually talking to people. It was wonderful! I was so happy I went. I came home and wrote a little bit about my experience in my journal, and at one moment looked up and saw my face in the mirror. This may sound a little narcissistic but what I saw was beautiful. There was a happy radiance coming from me. I even glanced back one more time to see if that beauty I saw was real--yep, still there. I was vulnerable. I was courageous. I didn't dance around anything. I was truly and completely, 100% me. That whole evening was incredible. I even dreamt about ARP meetings all night! I am definitely looking forward to going again.

Proactive Mondays

I'm discovering more how recovery is a proactive ordeal. Living the gospel is living an active life. 

It was very therapeutic in a way to write out, or breakdown my emotions from yesterday because I was able to identify my pride and how debilitating it is for me. I know no one who is free from pride, but I don't remember it being so real and prevalent in my life as it has been the last 2.5 years. I've expressed and illustrated it several times; it's like a brick wall that is surrounding my heart. And sometimes circumstances arise and I feel a brick fall off, and it's a reason to rejoice! Other times I add more brick and mortar strengthening that blasted wall. ugh-I want it gone.

Last night, I recognized two things I needed to do immediately if I wanted to feel better. My misery far outweighed the pain of change, so I determined to do them. 1) Apologize to my husband for my reactive and rude response to his thoughtful question. 2) pray. 

I offered an apology, a simple sorry at best. I said a prayer, muffled words with no true feeling. But I did it. And, I printed out more Dailies sheets because I rewrite them every Sunday. I decided I needed to get back to some basics, and basics only since that's all I have energy for.

Then I went to bed.

And today has been much better. I've decided to start working on Step 3. I think it's time.

I cuss too much

I can't hang onto Hope. Hope, where are you?

Oh, I know. You're tucked inside the pages of my scriptures. You're snug inside some of the hearts of those who've walked where I'm walking. You probably were served on a platter to those who were aware of it, at church today. Somehow, I only got a nibble. But the minute I walked back in my apartment door, you vanished.

I look around and see him. Still in his pajamas, unshowered, clicking that controller and shooting the hell out the imaginary creatures, talking with his "friends" on his headset. I want to get on my high tower and proclaim how his choice to choose *that* over church is disgusting. I want to believe I am the better person for choosing to go to church. 

I am a jerk.

Truth is, he is far better than I. 

My son is hungry. More resentment builds as I prepare lunch by myself. Did I not spend the entire morning getting our son ready for church, by myself? I don't want to do this by myself anymore! 

I go to my room. If I nap, it'll go away. I'll feel better. 

That didn't work. You still irritate me.

Maybe if I get 3 stars on all my Angry Birds levels than I'll feel better. 

That definitely didn't work.

Maybe if I post an ad on Craigslist, just to get some emails.... I wouldn't actually go out and meet any of them. No, I'll just text that guy friend of mine. That's less harmless. 

None of it works. What would work? Communicating! Wow! Wonders, right? I'm learning recovery is a proactive effort. Recovery is often looking beyond the symptoms and looking to the root.

My husband came in. He asked, "Are you having a bad day?"

Perfect opportunity to communicate, right? But instead I pushed him away. And now I have to apologize for *that* too.

I am so unhappy right now. I have no hope because I won't let go of my pride. I know it. And the fact that I know it makes it that much harder, because now I have to own it. 

But why wouldn't I want to??? Don't I get that hope is on the other side? Isn't that what I want? Why is this so damn hard?!

Dialogue

Whenever I don't have the spirit and become so self-consumed and wrapped up in harmful behaviors, my entire world and perspective crumbles and I come to believe that I don't want or deserve peace anymore. 

I am looking at the world through addict eyes right now. I don't want to let it go. I know you understand this. The addict presents a carefree life, instant gratification, lack of responsibility, and escape. Yes, please, take me with you.  

But, oh wait, we've been through this before...1000x! It never ends positively. My husband will find out when I come to my senses and confess. I will not escape anything! I'll just have a bigger mess to clean up. I like being responsible. Instant gratification doesn't help me become a patient, selfless person. I don't *really* want what you have to offer. ADDICT ME, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! I hate you.

Caring vs Really Caring

The number one thing on my mind right now: caring

What do you mean when you say you care about someone? What does it feel like to have someone care about you?

I watched some Full House today, DJs uncles really cared about her. I remember watching that as a kid and wishing I had that. And today, that familiar thought crossed my mind. I was viewing the show from 26 year old eyes and experience, but was still responding like my ten year old self. Weird, I know. I know no one will understand why recognizing what I did while watching that show was of any importance but it is, to me. Those pangs of desiring to be cared about so deeply and lovingly come from somewhere. And it's bugging me.

I have held very strongly to the paradigm for almost a decade that there are only three people in this world who really care about you: your parents and if you have one, your spouse. And it's a belief that I think I'm beginning to believe is weighing me down...or as Brene Brown and my therapists keep saying, it's based on the faulty core belief that I am not worthy of love.

But I believe I am worthy of love. I can say that. Maybe I don't always feel it, but I can say that I am worthy of love just as easily as I can break out singing I am a child of God. 

Maybe what I need to figure out is what my definition of "really care" is. 

Do I think people care about me? Yes. But only to a certain extent. And if I'm not careful then they'll stop caring and instead be annoyed of me.

So do people really care about me? No. I think my parents care about me and they just will no matter what. But how come their "caring" has no/little value to me, when everyone else's caring does? Is this some insatiable need to be cared about?

Problem Piles

A post I read this morning reminded me of of this quote @LetHimHealYourHeart 

I'm going there some day!!!

I typed in "worthiness" on lds.org because I knew later that evening Bishop and I were going to center our discussion around the temple. I came across this talk: https://www.lds.org/general-conference/1989/04/on-being-worthy?lang=eng

It's titled "on being worthy" by elder Ashton in 1989.

Several things stood out to me and intrigued me that I listened to it again. And then again. What wasn't I getting? I compulsively replayed it and read along with it--I knew there was some application to his beautiful words that I was having a difficult time, well, applying.

forgive me if I misquote but here are the principles that stood out to me again and again:

• we are our own worst judge. Sometimes it's necessary to involve a third party in helping us judge our worthiness.

• some people have grown comfortable with their unworthiness

• sometimes there is a need for us to be chastised or corrected in a spirit of love and hope

I met with Bishop and told him about my recent slips and then unexpectedly he began pointing out some changes he saw in me already just in the way I reported my slips. I must say I disagreed with his favorable viewing of me because in my mind: I certainly wasn't worthy of his compliments.

And then he began to talk about the goal of getting back to temple. He said, "Lets shoot for the beginning of June." If I had had any liquid in my mouth at that very moment, it would've spit all over him and out my nose at the same time.

"What?!?!?!?!? You're talking like June 2014, right?" 

He shook his head. He was serious. 

And my thoughts were, Bishop, you have way too much faith in me. You have faith in me? It shook me. Literally, I began shaking.

What was I feeling? Why was I so uncomfortable? I hadn't lied to him; I'm not deceiving my way back to the temple. I want to go there. Why don't I have as much faith in myself? What is he seeing in me that I'm not seeing in myself?

I voiced my concern over setting a date and then "white knuckling" my way to that point; he understood. Instead he asked me if we can start with a limited use recommend. He wants me to go with two new converts in our ward and do baptisms with them. The excitement began to replace the discomfort. Hope poured into my soul. I went home on the brink of tears. Hope was back; something I thought was so unattainable is within my grasp!

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I may or may not have talked to myself. ;)  Bishop believes you are worthy enough to get a recommend. Elder Ashton's talk came to remembrance--trust what your bishop sees in you. Oh my goodness, was my next thought, I am comfortable in my state of self-proclaimed unworthiness! Elder Ashton wasn't kidding! I am shaking and fearful because I am actually scared to be "worthy" again!!! 

But after acknowledging that fear, I was overpowered by excitement! Now, my spirit inside me is jumping for joy. I am ready to hang up a picture of the temple at my bedside, in my car and at work. I want to do everything I can to be that person my Savior sees me to be. I recognize I will still have my downs, but that I can continue to cushion those falls with working my recovery and utilizing all these tools I have obtained, and that I can be proactive and get back to doing what I need to do to keep my heart turned towards my Savior. My dear Bishop, I love you! I still think you are crazy to say three weeks, but I'll take it. Today I am really, really looking forward to the temple.

My journaling didn't do justice to what I was feeling so like a 6-yr-old I expressed by drawing.

~Hopeful in Seattle. 

Why women should wear make up. BS.

About 3 years ago I was caught up in a conversation with a friend in which she was telling me about her uncle's affairs and how her aunt was still married to him. I don't remember the exact nature of our conversation, but I do remember one thing she said--the biggest lie I've ever heard: "Well, you know, I've heard that the wife needs to take some accountability for affairs, too. It's her job to keep the man interested; keep herself well put together and make sure his needs are met, if you know what I mean."

And do you know what I did? 

I nodded my head right along with her. I'd never heard that lie philosophy before and agreed there must be some truth to it.

Actually, that conversation stayed in my head for quite some time. It wasn't too long after when I started pursuing an inappropriate relationship and I admit using her story as justification for my own actions at times--as if my flirting was somehow my husband's fault because he didn't fulfill a certain need for me.

Fast forward three years and a whole-lotta-change-of-perspective later, and this friend is on my couch. Our sons are now 5-years-old and playing quite well together. We had plenty of time just to talk and somehow our conversation turned to women in our church culture. She expressed how she felt there is a lot of pressure for women to remain well kept, to wear make-up, always have their hair done and look their best. I could sense where this conversation was going, and sure enough she got to her point which was: Because it's the woman's responsibility to keep her spouse interested.

I don't know that I've ever said a mean word in front of this gal in my life, but on my couch that day, in front of our sons, the word bullshit shot out quite impulsively. 

That shut her up for a minute.

 I wondered if I should tell her my experience; I decided against that. But I wished so badly that my life could be a more open book than it is; free of judgement. That she could see all of me, where my perspective was coming from. That she could hear, straight from someone who has put her husband through that hell, that it was in no way his fault. That I am accountable for my actions. And that no sexual act, pretty body or well-dressed day would've realistically prevented that. 

But mostly I felt sorry for her. As she began breaking down why she even believed that philosophy so wholeheartedly she described to me how her mom was always well aware of every break-up/divorce in their ward and the family. She heard the gossip and her mom constantly pointing her finger at the woman, assessing her hygiene and hair-dos to determine whether it was truly just the man's fault or not. As a result, she has raised a daughter who is now so terribly wrapped up in keeping herself as impossibly perfect as she can all in a vain effort to keep her husband's eyes from wandering. Oh my dear friend. I wish I would've called that bullshit three years ago.

Step one: admit that you and probably everyone else around you is addicted to something

This is actually From my journal feb. 24, 2013.

I've been thinking about addictions lately and reading about them. The more I read, the more I'm convinced that everyone must have an addiction of one kind or another. I've also reflected on all the "little things" humans do to perfect themselves. Of course we know that perfection won't be achieved. Yet, we spend our time, energies and advertising promoting healthy eating and exercising 30min/day, massage therapy, vision therapy, emotional therapy; things that restore perhaps the body to as perfect state as we can imagine. But perhaps we are meant to be imperfect.

Hmm, that fully supports the talks I've been reading on perfectionism (an unhealthy obsession towards being perfect). The perfectionist may have a hard time accepting that this is unachievable and suffers with invulnerability never truly experiencing a joy that I hear is available.

Currently I'm tackling (or attempting to tackle) an addiction that despite the fact that so many people have it, it affects me and my happiness and of those around me and so striving for perfection, rather striving to be the best I can in a healthy way, will be beneficial. But I can't imagine tackling other addictions (like to chocolate) in such a serious way as being necessary. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we are expected to "recover" from all addictions.

The final thing I've contemplated is: who is our control group? In any addiction the addicted seem to desire normalcy. Yet, who determines "normal"?

Engaging in the addiction only brings despair

I love journaling but sometimes I just don't want to litter and overwhelm the pages with details of my addiction. So I'm grateful for this outlet. Today's entry I'm going to try to breakdown some of my behaviors and thoughts before acting out and after.

It's been 40 days meeting my bottom line. But then...

Two days ago, I dropped my son off at preschool. I'm home alone. I have my routine: eat breakfast, shower,  turn on the heater, get a blanket and do my scripture reading. Well somewhere in this mix I felt the itch. I don't know if I had hopped on my phone, I'm sure I was done with my scripture reading at this point, and was now being idle--not really engaging in productive or constructive activities. My mood was depressed--I had felt extremely irritable and depressed the day before and had expressed that to my husband the day before. He was immensely kind and accommodating to me. At a moment where I didn't express any love in return, he just loved me. Those depressed thoughts still lingered though, I thought for sure I must be pmsing

 Anyway, the itch took forefront of my mind. I wondered, "should I text anyone?" I didn't want to. And for the first time in many weeks I realized my better half was not winning nor really talking me out of this. I fixated on the thought so much. I wanted to feel it again; I remembered it felt good, but it had been so long it seemed. And at that point I blocked out everything else---even time couldn't compete--I masturbated till I was satisfied and then had to rush out the door to pick up my son. My phone had k9 browser now, but I was still able to recall enough visual junk that it didn't seem to make a difference whether I was literally seeing it with my eyes or not.

I feel so sick just writing this. I feel like a disgusting individual.

Yesterday I was at work all day. I've done really poorly on my dailies this week and I'm sure that made me more susceptible to relapse. As my therapist says "doing dailies is like when the rubber meets the road." I avoid praying because of all the feelings of self worth or the lack thereof. How am I going to repent--again? How can I ask for blessings when really I am desiring to dwell with apathetic feelings. Prayer seems useless unless in willing to be a humble individual.

I came to the conclusion last night that I truly am a selfish individual. My husband has still been so kind and loving toward me. He created a safe enough spot that I even told him about me masturbating. It was a beautiful discussion. But the next day when I was feeling somewhat better, I still didn't return any favors of love or simple gratitude. I selfishly want it and expect it from him, but am not willing to go the extra mile to return the favor.

Today--didn't pray. I did sort of before reading my scriptures. I enjoyed my reading. I got ready for the day. Made some phone calls. And then I was on Facebook - imagine that. And got caught up in watching a survivor clip and then once again idleness just ensued. The itch didn't really return this time, but the thought of looking at pornography came first this time. There's this brief moment--indescribable-where I can gage the amount of resistance I will give to a thought. This one just seemed to be like a command in the computer system and I just followed my orders. I didn't fight it. I just switched websites. And that was my first viewing experience on my home computer. I thought that was safe--since I'd never done it before. Pshaw.

Almost immediately I recognized the impulsive desire I have to go spend money we don't have. This happens regularly. Thought behind this impulse: I've already screwed up! I don't care anymore! Budget goes out the window.

As I walked to the park today, my son grabbed my hand and that was the first time in a while that I remember that icky feeling of disgust and that he shouldn't touch me. And it's a huge reminder of this double life I'm trying to lead.

A lot of hopelessness surrounds me. Discouragement. I want to quit doing the things that matter most, like somehow that will take away the discouragement--but I know it won't. Even stupid things like I want to quit my calling--because then I won't have to deal with that responsibility. But really, I don't. I want those opportunities. I need them. And I need to pray. I just don't know what to say.

About Masturbation

Over the past several years I've struggled with the difference in opinion between the church and the world on masturbation. It seemed as though within the church the only advice on the topic was "Don't  do it." Conversely, it is easy to find and even hear coworkers and friends not of our faith to talk about it like its not big deal; it's necessary and normal, it flushes the system of old sperm (ok that doesn't relate to me but still it's a valid argument on the topic).

 I think this quote, taken from this source sums up rather nicely what's so dangerous about masturbation--it's the explanation I wished I had had, more than just the "Don't do it."

 This is where neurochemistry comes in, too. Sexual climax involves incredibly powerful chemical events that can even be analogized to the effect of powerful drugs. Both make the brain perceive incredible pleasure. Because of neuroplasticity (the brain’s tendency to rewire itself so that a stimulus and its response are closely associated with each other), sexual stimulus will be associated with its incredible neurochemical reward. Some of the chemicals that are released during sex are the same as those released after a woman gives birth. And just as these chemicals help a mother to bond with a newborn child, they also help sexual partners to feel bonded to one another.

   But when sexual stimulus comes in the form of masturbation, completely devoid of the sharing and vulnerability and complementarity of marriage, then the brain can become wired so that it is primarily masturbation that produces the reward, and an individual can become increasingly unable to sexually respond to a spouse. Masturbation and intercourse are simply different. One who masturbates frequently has a very direct knowledge of what actions bring pleasure most effectively. It can be difficult or impossible for a spouse to reproduce the pleasure that a masturbator has learned how to produce on his or her own. Thus, sexuality, if not expressed in the context of a loving and devoted relationship, turns inward and becomes a focus on self. It is spiritually dangerous to use 
sexuality for self when God intends for it to be used to help us overcome our love of self.