Leaning into joy and later disappointment, and I'm still okay

This post really has no direct correlation to addiction, but this is a good place to journal some thoughts and my personal breakdown and experience with vulnerability, and of leaning into discomfort and joy. Yet, it very much is related to addiction because I would've never delved so deeply into these topics had it not been for propelling numbing and addictive behaviors that I have been trying to understand.

Brene' Brown teaches me not to rob myself of joy with the "what if's" (at least that's how I think of it). I practiced that when I took a positive pregnancy test in October. *This* was a joyous moment for me, or at least I suspected it should be, but within moments of actually accepting the reality of what I was looking at on my bathroom counter the "what ifs" began to enter into my mind:

"What if he/she isn't healthy?"

"You can't/shouldn't tell anyone because you might miscarry." Essentially everything that could possibly go wrong knocked at my door. But I refused to let them settle. Why? Because they were robbing me of my joy! And although feeling that level of joy was somewhat uncomfortable and unfamiliar, I embraced it.

I embraced overwhelming joy and happiness in that moment.

But today I feel the opposite of joy. I haven't been shy in letting others know I hope for a girl. Did I know there was a chance for a boy? Of course I did. But I wasn't going to bury my reality of hope for a girl just because it could be a boy. I let myself feel hope. I allowed myself to dream and imagine life with a girl.

Only my son attended the ultrasound with me this morning. When the tech told us 1/2 way through, "It's a boy!" my response was, "Bummer." My son's was more excited, "Yes! I always guess right. Like this morning, when I guessed which elevator door was going to open, I guessed that right, too!"

The tech continued her work and I lay there silently, disappointedly. I honestly didn't anticipate how deeply the disappointment would settle if I learned it was a boy. Tears began to form. I didn't cry an ugly cry, in fact I'm sure the tech didn't even notice the few tears that ran down my cheeks. I felt a whole range of emotions, and exerted my energy into identifying them (in my head, of course) as the tech finished her measurements.

I felt shame knocking at my door ready to tell me, "How selfish of you to not be grateful for a boy", or "You're disappointed that you're having a boy? Some people can't even get pregnant. How dare you..." But I refused to let shame settle. Instead I decided to feel empathy for myself. I let compassion in. I reminded myself how it was okay to be disappointed and how proud I am of myself to let myself be vulnerable throughout this pregnancy thus far.

That's not to say I wasn't happy when the appointment was finally over. I went to Starbucks in the lobby to impulsively buy a hot chocolate. It was my attempt to numb at least some of the sadness. We browsed the baby shops and seriously the girl selection was way better than the boy's. Sadness overwhelmed me again. I just let it. I did come across some cute adorable baby bow ties, though! "This just might do it," I thought, "I will be able to get excited about a boy eventually."

I will be getting this boy a freakin' adorable bow tie eventually, just not one from the hospital that costs $26. It will stand as my reminder that embracing vulnerability is the way to wholehearted living. And that's one of the biggest things I want to teach my sons--to know who they are, to know they are worthy of love and belonging and to live life wholeheartedly.

Depression is a disease of civilization: Stephen Ilardi at TEDxEmory

Worth the share.

Disciplinary Councils

Have you ever gone through a disciplinary council? Why did you do it? (Not like...what landed you there, but why did you choose to have the DC).

Did you trust your bishop? Even moreso, did you trust his counselors (and, oh yah, the exec secretary who gets to join in for some odd reason)?

Perhaps I'm gawking at the order of the church right now, because I don't find it fair that I should have to share such personal information with mostly people that I don't know OR trust! I don't even feel like my Bishop really shows up for me, but when I say that, the shame gremlins enter my head. 

Shame Gremlin: You deserve none of his time. He's so busy helping other people.

Shame Gremlin: He cancels and reschedules on you a lot because you are not worth it.

Shame Gremlin: He doesn't care about you.

They're there. And they hurt. And although some of them gremlins I can logically walk away from other ones keep getting reinforced. I wouldn't say I don't like my bishop, but I don't like him as my bishop, right now.

And so then when it comes to thinking about being involved with a DC with him as the head of the meeting, I cringe. You don't care about me. I am not just a "process to go through". This is my life! This is my story--real, raw and even humiliating. I don't just attach my name to it with anyone--they need to earn my vulnerability. 

But unfortunately, I feel like I have to do it. If I want to go to the temple again...I have to endure this. I have to tell complete strangers my faults, so they can sit there and pretend like they care. But I don't believe them. AM I WRONG TO WANT THEM TO ACTUALLY KNOW ME AS A PERSON BEFORE A DC? 

Shame and Grace

These are two principles that I believe have created a positive turning point for me:

1) Recognizing shame

You have no idea how many times I have to advise myself, "Stop beating yourself up." For years over any given situation, shame could knock at my door and generally make its way into my soul. I can now recognize it's knocks, bolt the door and walk away. 

2) Learning more about Grace
I am so thankful for grace which allows me to admit I didn't meet up to my potential, and that I can try again.

If you haven't watched this yet, please do: http://a12stepjournal.blogspot.com/2013/08/brad-wilcox-his-grace-is-sufficient.html

I especially like his analogy about the parent paying the piano teacher for the piano lessons for his/her child. The child can only "pay back that debt" by practicing, and becoming better. Afterall, that's all the parent hopes for!

And does the piano teacher kick the child out as soon as he/she plays a wrong note? No! He asks that you try again, too. Practice! Practice! Practice!

A dream

So ever since my husband started reading my blog, I've become far less interested in posting. I can't really label why, but I do know that knowing who is reading my blog and then potentially seeing them in person after posting something, can set me up for feeling ashamed for what I posted. (Did you follow that?)

I really have to think about my motives behind posting what I am, I guess.

A few weeks back or more, I had a dream: I was at work getting a male patient set up for his appointment, when he started making inappropriate comments. At first in my dream, I ignored him and didn't give him the response I assumed he desired, but he was persistent with his flirting and eventually my brain just latched to what he was saying and I started responding flirtatiously back. The dream was short lived, however it held strong energy. Ironically, while I was eliciting some of my addictive behaviors, I was likewise struggling with my better-self; the part of me who knows who I am, and knows that engaging in this behavior is taking me away from becoming who I want to become.

Still in a dream state, I withdrew from him and began to pray. Heavenly Father, forgive me! Please relieve me of these feelings! Please! I don't want to do this!!! As dream's energy sometimes does, I woke up from that dream with the feelings and guilt so raw and intense, I continued to pray in my (somewhat) awake state. I was relieved that this was just a dream, but petrified at what I had chosen to do, nevertheless. A message burned inside of me: Don't think you are well, just because you've been feeling well. You are still very vulnerable to your addiction, and it can snag you in an instant. You must always stay on guard. 

I feel that God granted me the peace that I was seeking that morning. I felt He helped erase images from my dream (and the feelings associated with them) from my memory as well. But the message carried through to my heart; always stay on guard.

I don't know if it was coincidental, or if my dream just put me on edge to be wary of any male who walked through work's door the following day, but one certainly came in who was.....well, different. Everything about his body language, the way he hung around the office (after his appointment was over) made me uncomfortable.  He even came back into the office after leaving, just because he had more questions.

Ugh, it wasn't like my dream, but I couldn't help but believe if God hadn't blessed me with that message, that I would've been oblivious to all of this and probably engaged more with him than neccessary. Instead, because I was determined to stay on guard and remember my weakness, I either defaulted to making my coworker answer his questions and me leaving the room, or just giving him the answer and not following up to get more information (bad customer service?)

I have recognized for myself that to have a weakness isn't bad. I've thought of the analogy of the hen who opens her wings, inviting her chicks to come under them for safety. I've been more diligently trying to keep that image in mind and to catch myself when I am choosing to wander from the safety of His wings. My weaknesses will only hurt me when I choose to leave the safety of my Savior. Like the scriptures say,  "...if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them."

Paradigm Shift

I love my husband.

He asked me if I had done "anything bad today" and after I gave him my reply he said, "Well, that's one less thing than I thought, so way to go!"

And then I realized there was a victory among what I perceived to altogether be a failure. Thank you honey for helping me see that. :) I love you.

Okay *gag* at the sappiness. I know you want to. 

Acidic Addiction

Therapy today was like drinking a glass of acid. I've never actually done that, and don't really know how that feels, but the heart wrenching and painful honesty I was presented with makes my insides explode. I wish I could throw up until my insides are purged clean. I feel sick. I am sick.

The consequences of my addiction are, but not limited to, lack of trust in my relationships. Lack of trust of self. Losing my integrity. Poor self esteem. Lack of feeling joy. Loss of job. Financial strain from job loss and in paying for therapy. Lack of participation in spiritual affairs. Dents and misunderstandings in marriage. Ignoring my family and robbing myself of cultivating happy relationships with them.

And I could just go on...

But I can't. Rip my eyeballs from their sockets. Cut off my hands. Punch out my front teeth.

I keep thinking tomorrow I'll do better. God, what do you really see in me? What am I going to become?

I am a child of God, and He has sent me here. Has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear. Lead me, guide me, walk beside me. Help me find The Way.

Does God ever give us more than we can handle? Ya, right now, I think He does. But I am coming to believe that I can handle trials, but only through His Grace. Honestly, I don't know how I'd even rekindle hope again if it weren't for my Higher Power!

As Warrior puts so well: Seriously, I have no choice but to constantly connect with God. I can't handle lust. I can't handle any negative emotion. I can't bury either but rather acknowledge it and surrender it.  I can't handle oogling over an attractive girl. I simply can't handle it.  I can't afford to drink in lust on any level.  I can't resist this stuff with sheer willpower.  It is insufficient.  Recovery requires power. Power from a source greater than ourselves.

I cannot forsake my God.