Perspective

I actually took these photos. Isn't that crazy? I was actually in Paris! 

I went to an Al-Anon meeting last Saturday.  It's almost funny.  If you would have asked the 16 year old me, or the 20 year old me, or even the 30 year old me, if I ever imagined myself at an Al-Anon meeting I would have been completely bewildered by the question.

For some reason accepting that my husband is a sex addict happened so gradually that I guess there was never a drastic moment where I was shocked to find myself at a 12 step meeting.  But there aren't really any 12 step meetings in the city where I'm living, besides Al-Anon, so per my therapist's suggestions, Al-Anon it was.  (No, Pete has not taken up drinking as far as I know...)

That meeting drastically changed my trajectory.  It was so amazing. I got weepy from the moment I walked in, from the courage and vulnerability of everyone in that room, the utter, unapologetic honesty and the compassion that made me feel like I was high.  (Ironic, huh?)

The things that were shared, the reminders of ideas and concepts I've learned and then neglected, it felt like home and it was so wonderful.  It really is a sacred space, and for all the joking that goes on in t.v. and film about 12 step meetings, it is a remarkable place, that can only be understood by the those who have lived a rock bottom and then discovered acceptance, validation and liberation.

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A few weeks ago I was in Paris.  As we approached the Eiffel Tower Pete and I remarked about the park landscape.  Why there was grass there, and not here... silly things.  We waited in line and rode the elevator to the top with our children.

The first stop is the first viewing deck. It's high, for sure, and from there I could see the pattern of the landscape in the park.

"Ohhhh! I get it.  It makes sense from up here.  There is a design that can't be fully appreciated from ground level."

Then we took the lift to the upper viewing deck.  From 1,000 feet up everything was even more orderly.  Building complexes, street patterns, city archicture, landscape design,  It all made so much more sense from up there.

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Al-Anon was like a ride in the elevator for me.  I could look back on the last few weeks, and even months, with better clarity and perspective.

Oh I see... THAT is why I felt that why... Of course- no wonder this was happening...  There is definitely a pattern there...

And then I can trust; trust in a grand design.  An even Higher Power, with an even broader perspective.  There is so much that doesn't make sense from down here.  But I know, I KNOW there is a better way to live than obsessing about why things aren't the way I would make them if I really could control and manage.

And the view really is beautiful when I get the space I need to see it.  And I feel relief.  And I feel hope.  And I feel loved and adequate and strong again.

Could we have been so mistaken in the men we married?

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Our library of recovery books just keeps growing and growing.  I love to read but I can't say that I love to read recovery books.  I follow my gut and read the things that speak to me.  The other night Pete was reading to me from the book Alcoholics Anonymous, and there is a chapter for wives.  I highly recommend it, especially if you are just embarking on this journey.  Ultimately the goal of the chapter is to provide guidance to wives of alcoholics, but the beginning reminded me so much of my own experiences with Pete's pornography addiction, and the experiences I've heard from friends, that I wanted to share it here.

I'm sure we don't relate to all the problems or all the feelings, but I think we can all probably relate to many of them.  What part speaks to you?

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"We have traveled a rocky road, there is no mistake about that. We have had long rendezvous with hurt, pride, frustration, self-pity, misunderstanding and fear. These are not pleasant companions.  We have been driven to maudlin sympathy, to bitter resentment.  Some of us veered from extreme to extreme, ever hoping that one day our loved ones would be themselves once more. 

Our loyalty and the desire that our husbands hold up their heads and be like other men have begotten all sorts of predicaments. We have been unselfish and self-sacrificing.  We have told lies to protect our pride and our husband’s reputations. We have prayed, we have begged, we have been patient. We have struck out viciously. We have run away. We have been hysterical. We have been terror stricken. We have sought sympathy.

Our homes have been battle-grounds many an evening.  In the morning we have kissed and made up.  Our friends have counseled chucking the men and we have done so with finality, only to be back in a little while hoping, always hoping.  Our men have sworn great solemn oaths that they were through [acting out] forever. We have believed them when no else could or would.  Then, in days, weeks or months, a fresh outburst.

We came to live almost alone.

There was never financial security. Positions were always in jeopardy or gone. An armored car could not have brought the pay envelopes home. The checking account melted like snow.

Perhaps at this point we got a divorce and took the children home to father and mother. Then we were severely criticized by our husband’s parents for desertion. Usually we did not leave. We stayed on and on. 

As animals on a treadmill, we have patiently and wearily climbed, falling back in exhaustion after each futile effort to reach solid ground.

Under these conditions we naturally made mistakes. Some of them rose out of ignorance of [addiction]. Sometimes we sensed dimly that we were dealing with sick men.

How could men who loved their wives and children be so unthinking, so callous, so cruel? There could be no love in such persons, we thought.  And just as we were being convinced of their heartlessness, they would surprise us with fresh resolves and new attentions. For awhile they would be their old sweet selves, only to dash the new structure of affection to pieces once more.  It was so baffling, so heartbreaking. Could we have been so mistaken in the men we married? Sometimes they were so inaccessible that it seemed as though  great all had been built around them.

As wives of [addicts] we would like you to feel that we understand as perhaps few can. We want to leave you with the feeling that no situation is too difficult and no unhappiness too great to be overcome.”

Be Kind Be Brave

Another Camp Scabs is in the books.  My cup runneth over with gratitude for the opportunity I have to meet such remarkable women. I really can’t get over that.  I’ve recently started reading Glennon Melton’s book and she talks about how we are truly living when we let our walls down and share honestly with our friends and in our relationships.  Camp has a way of making that feel natural and even though it’s not easy, it’s fulfilling. 

Thank you to all the women who have had courage to take such a risk. 

There is a tsunami coming.  I’m not sure exactly what it will look like, but it’s a wave of knowledge, empowered women, education, bravery and change.

Forgive my clichés, but YOU can be a part of this wave. 

Never in my life have I been so convinced of the power of the individual.  If we have the courage to work from the bottom up, God will work from the top down.  

Years ago, before this was part of my life, I didn’t know what I didn’t know.  It’s taken years for me to understand the lies of my husband’s pornography addiction. 

Unfortunately the world is full of people who still believe those lies.  They don’t know what they don’t know.  And if it took me, in my brokenness and desperation, THIS long to start to understand the truth about sexual addiction, it will surely take patience and persistence as we watch those around us learn and understand. 

But we can be the instrument of change.  There is a quote that is often attributed to Ghandi that says “Be the change you wish to see in the world.”  But what Ghandi actually said was this-

“If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. ... We need not wait to see what others do.”

If it’s compassion we are looking for from the world, let’s offer more compassion to the world.  If it’s knowledge and understanding, let’s boldly share ours.

I’m not necessarily talking about shouting from the rooftops, although if that feels right to you, go with it.  I’m talking about our private conversations with our therapists, our church leaders, our friends. 

If you don't know where to begin, begin by being willing to begin. Send an email, open up to a friend, trust your gut.  

Let’s not wait to see what others do, let’s follow our hearts and share our truth.   

As For Me...

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First of all- thank you so much for the outpouring of love and support you sent my way via comments, emails and texts.  There is power in solidarity and I FEEL it.  I love you for it.  Sometimes when I comment on blogs I feel small and insignificant.  But each comment here, EACH one, and every email MEANS something to me.  It makes me feel like I matter, I am loved, and people care.  That never gets old for me.

Finding out about lies, and dealing with a relapse after Pete's longest stretch of sobriety in years was hard.

But peeps- I've been doing this recovery business for a few years now and I think it's actually working! It's hard to put my finger on what exactly feels differently about my life.  Especially since I'm STILL dealing with these issues, as much as I've wished them away.

I took a parenting class a few years ago where the gentle, grandmotherly teacher suggested that perfection wasn't the goal of the class.  It was just decreasing percentages.  Instead of yelling at my kids 90% of the time when I was frustrated, the goal was to only yell 70% of the time.  This is how recovery has helped me.  I still have codependent behaviors, I still trigger back to trauma, I still hold a grudge sometimes and I still get angry.   But my percentages are down.

I am less panicked and desperate when Pete acts out.

I am less irritable and anxious when I see my lack of control.

I spend less time in bed and on the bathroom floor.

I personalize Pete's behavior and resentments less.

I feel more acceptance and patience.

Forgiveness comes more easily.

There are so many analogies about perspective.  But I love the words to "Let it Go" from Frozen.

It's funny how some distance, makes everything seem small. 
And the fears that once controlled me, can't get to me at all. 

A couple years ago, even months ago, Pete's pornography addiction seemed like a mountain ahead of me. So HUGE, so overwhelming, so consuming, so terrifying, so traumatizing.  But gradually it looks smaller, takes less of my energy and I find myself being more easily distracted from it.

I wouldn't say that my fears can't get to me at all.  But they get to me less.  And I can spend more time in gratitude and less time in despair.

So I'm doing okay.  Better yet, I think I'm doing well, all things considered.  Thank you again- so much!

Our Gift

At long last recovery was taking hold for Pete.  And I felt like a plastic swimming pool on summer day, filling and filling with fears of vulnerability and emotional reconnection.  Wise people told me, “you’ll know it when you see it.”  And I saw it.  And I knew it.  But knowing he was in true recovery didn’t erase the trauma and distrust. 

Okay- he’s doing better, but what now? Can I love him again? Can I connect with him again? Can I ever have sex with him again?

I felt stalled out and stuck.  A few therapy appointments were helping me but the progress felt infinitesimal.  I wanted it, but I couldn’t resist slamming the proverbial door in his face whenever I didn’t get my way. 

Then something came along.  An opportunity for Pete, and me, and our family.  Something we’d talked about and dreamed of in the early days of his career. 

It caught hold.  It took flight. We started talking.  We were excited.  Ideas, dreams, hopes, feelings began to pour out of me.  And he ate it up. He listened, and like he always has, worked and made phone calls and sent emails to execute my wildest ambitions. 

We researched, we laughed, we exchanged giddy texts and eager phone calls. 

My faith still lacks the gumption to notice God’s hand in my life on a consistent basis.  But for once I see that he has undoubtedly given us this gift. 

It is a gift.  It has been the ice breaker of all ice breakers.  It has destroyed the awkwardness and hesitancy that held me captive.  It has reignited a shared goal inside us that has brought us together again.  It has given us pillow talk and passion.  My fervor and longing for this opportunity has trumped my pride and stubbornness.  We couldn’t do this if our marriage was rocky.  We couldn’t do this if Pete wasn’t in recovery.  We couldn’t do this if I couldn’t decide that I was committed to him.  As much as I wanted it, I wasn’t blind to those facts. 

As the holidays upon us I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for this life-changing gift.  A healing balm for my wounded marriage.  After Pete and I had done all we could do, after we put forth our efforts and reached out for help, we needed something more. 

And God gave.  

Happy New Year everyone.  Cheers to a 2014 that brings us all a little more peace and emotional safety. 

A week in the life of Jane

It has been a tornado of emotions in the last couple weeks.  In addition to all the confusion and then clarity that surrounded last week, I had made a decision about doing something I felt right about that Pete vehemently disagreed with.  I did it this week.  And it hurt him. 

MONDAY: I shared my (and by obvious association, Pete's) story with someone close to Pete and me.  I had felt strong impressions to do this, and felt that I needed to be honest and real with this person.  It went well, I felt a loving response.  I also felt strongly that by doing what I felt was right, I could confidently trust that God will help me cope with the fallout.  I told Pete what I had done and left it at that, knowing he was going to need some space.

TUESDAY: Pete had a business dinner that night that I was supposed to attend with him.  But the idea of sitting through a celebratory dinner with his coworkers with him oozing hatred out his eyeballs toward me was not appealing.  So I told him as much.  What I said was "If you are angry with me that's fine, but please don't ask me to be your date."  What he heard was "If you don't hurry up at get over this I'm not going to your dinner with you."

We squabbled via text about this all day long on Tuesday.  And then I had a realization. 

Jane- every time you put up a wall, he is going to put up a wall.  (My therapist prefers to talk about doors instead of walls.  Doors can be opened and closed.)  Jane- You have closed your door.  And locked it.  And refusing to go to this dinner is a deadbolt. 

***BIG DISCLAIMER*** Vulnerability with an addict is not always safe.  I get to decide when it's safe. When I'm ready to take a risk and open my heart is my choice with my gut.  Same goes for all of us. 

And it felt like it was time. It felt like I could board up my door and close my heart forever, and get the same response back from him.  All of the sudden I was feeling a desire, a longing, and inkling to open that door.  So I called him. I said

"I want to go to this dinner with you.  But I don't want to sit next to an ice cube."

To which he vulnerably responded.

"I really want you to be there. I won't be an ice cube." 

WEDNESDAY: Pete came home from his meeting and we put the kids to bed. He asked me a few details about my conversation with said person and I answered them.  By now I was thirsty for anything from him.  I just wanted so badly to know what he was thinking and feeling. I could feel old desperations rising up, willing to give up anything to get something back.  But he said he wasn't ready to talk about it yet.  He went into our office to answer emails from work and I started cleaning the house.  I put on some empowering music and got to work.  But I started to feel hot.  It felt like my insides were a furnace burning intense feelings as fuel.  I went out to the porch and sat down.  It's cold at night my part of the world.  But that furnace felt warm inside me.  HOT inside me.  I looked up at the stars and listened to Adele.  (Music is this weird medium that is like a soundtrack to my soul.  It causes thoughts to rush out of me like a bursting dam.)  These were the thoughts.

Jane- (I guess I sort of talk to myself, or imagine God or sanity or some third party talking to me?)

Jane- you have something to offer.  It's time to stop taking taking taking, and start offering.  It's okay, it's okay what you've done to cope, how you've dealt with trauma, the mistakes you've made. It's. Okay.  But it's time to stop obsessing about this.  It's time to give Pete a chance.  It's time to quit feeling sorry for yourself.  It's time.  You're strong.  You're good.  You. Are. Good. 

It's hard to put into words the feelings and thoughts I had. But something clicked and I felt whole. 

THURSDAY: I spent the day doing volunteer work, which as cliché as it sounds, is really so healing.  There is a time and place for service, and it's not during the crisis.  But I am feeling drawn out of my crisis and it was so good for me.  I was still feeling strong and good.

That evening after the kids were in bed Pete asked me to listen as he read something he had prepared about the experience from earlier in the week.  The statement was half-hearted.  He wanted to be over it, he wanted to not be angry, the words said he wasn't but his demeanor felt otherwise.  He asked me that from now on, before I share his story with anyone we meet with a counselor to discuss it.  This bothered me.  I closed my door.  He locked his. I deadbolted mine.  It was a standoff.  We started to argue.  Then he said this

"I'm not the only one with problems in the marriage!"

And I lost it. I walked away. I went in my room and literally closed and locked the door.  Then I went into my bathroom and closed and locked that door.  I was PISSED and I was HURT and I was CONFUSED.  Why is he still saying that? Why is he always blaming me? Why does he insist I'm not recovering the "right" way?  I crumpled to the floor and sobbed.  I hit the wall with the palm of my hand so hard it made my skin sting.  I thought I was strong. I thought I was ready. I thought I couldn't be affected by him like this anymore. 

I heard him knocking on the door.  So I grabbed a bag and shoved some pajamas in it and opened the door.  But he stopped me.  He put his hands on my shoulders, softly, and gently pushed me back until I sat on the edge of our bed.  He knelt down in front me.  With tears in his eyes he said all the things I've been waiting years to hear.

"I'm so sorry.  I wish I could take back those words.  I don't care about being right. I don't care about my pride. I don't want you to leave. Now, or ever. I don't want to lose you.  I love you.  I want to fix this.  I've made mistakes, I'm going to make more mistakes.  I'm learning, but I am giving this my whole heart. I am really trying recovery.  I wanted to handle this the right way and I tried so hard, but old habits die hard.  Please forgive me.  Please. Please. Please."

He went on for about ten minutes before I would even look at his face.  And then he went on some more.  He talked about his pain. He talked about how much it hurt him what I had done.  It was humiliating.  He talked about the last six months and the anguish of watching me pull away from him.  He talked about fears and he talked about recovery.  He was so real.  He was so vulnerable. So humble.  So meek.  So honest. 

After awhile I asked him.  "What stopped you from realizing all these things before, and from sharing them with me?"  He talked about addiction and how it makes chaos in his brain. About how without some sobriety he couldn't see things as they really were.  He talked about how God has given him a sponsor that sees him when he can't see himself.  Like really sees him. 

I realized how healing and helpful it was for me to hear him be honest about his feelings.  But I also realized how he was incapable of doing that for so long.  Yesterday was 50 days of sobriety for him.  That's the longest he has gone in a couple years. 

I don't know what the future holds.  Last night we watched Brene Brown's TED talk on vulnerability and she talked about how relationships have no guarantees.  It's probably a little different with an addict, it takes longer to be willing to take the risk.  But Pete IS in recovery.  I know it.  So I'm taking a leap of faith, and starting the hard road to healing our relationship.  More therapy.  More hard conversations.  And I'm sure many more mistakes and disagreements. 

But I feel hope, and I feel love for this man.  For the work he has done to get where he is.  I caught a glimpse of how painful HIS road has been and I felt a wagonload of compassion. 

And now I'm going to Yoga- and I'm going to hit publish without finding a cool pic and without reading through this.  Love you all for reading-  Jane

Addo Recovery

I first learned about Addo last spring. But I was in my angry, cynical place and I didn't make time for it. But my friends did, and they loved it.

So I started the second round a couple weeks ago and already feel heard and validated. It's a really great program. It's all about you.

The program is free. It consists of online lessons, assessments, homework and journaling. Once a week the local group meets together in Utah and the rest of us can watch online. It's simple. It's gentle. It's anonymous.  It's at your own pace and accommodates your schedule.

  Register here.

But you don't have to take my word for it.  My brave and lovely friend Kami has graciously let me share her story with you.

 
Kami's Story (Full) from Addo Recovery on Vimeo.

The Heart Of The Matter

I had so many thoughts tumbling around in my head.  I was trying to make sense of one, to mold it into a coherent blog post, when Pete came in the room.  Seeing what I was up to, he informed me that his sponsor blocked my blog (on Pete's computer) via his "Net Nanny."  I get limited info these days about the workings of his sponsor, but he did tell me that he finally found some software that was compliant with his employer's computer/internet policy.  His sponsor manages the filters for him.  Apparently my blog was "a drug for his emotional dependency."

Honestly I'm not sure what to think.  It's weird to not really be sure if he will ever read this.  I've grown so accustomed to writing with him over my shoulder - so to speak. (Not literally.)  His work computer is really the only computer he has access to. 

Anyway.  That mini-conversation added even more thoughts to the mix and now I'm sure I can't compose anything coherent. 

BUT!

THIS!

This is very important to me.  Please watch.  Please donate.  I opened my own bank account a couple months ago.  I've been saving to establish financial independence.  But I think I'm going to drop a fat wad on this project.  I really believe in it. 

Sunday School

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It has been easy for me to become disillusioned with the church  programs I was raised with as I cope with the damaging effects of pornography and addiction. 

“There was never a lesson in Sunday school about boundaries.” I’ve been known to spitefully accuse. 

A few weeks ago as I brushed my little girl’s hair for church I had a strong impression. I realized that at church she is learning all the important things she will need in order to face the challenges ahead of her. 

It’s possible that women all over the world have wondered why Sunday school lessons weren’t “relevant” to their crisis. For example, there wasn’t a lesson about how to cope with losing everything in a natural disaster, or how to process through the feelings of an untimely death of a family member.  I’m sure there is a broken heart who wondered why she never had a lesson in young women about the anguish of a double mastectomy. 

The gospel is universal.  It is designed to offer peace and joy to the souls of all who suffer.  And while I still plan to teach my daughter about boundaries and self-care, I realized that at church she is learning exactly what she needs to know.

There is a loving God in Heaven who knows her.

Blessings come from living in obedience to God’s commandments.

The safest answers will be found in her heart, planted there by God through the Holy Ghost.

Jesus Christ suffered an atonement that qualifies him to be her most loyal friend and advocate.   He will always remove her pain and shortcomings when she turns to him.

Joy is found in kindness and charity. 

Her body, no matter what it looks like, is a sacred creation and can be capable of amazing things when she cares for it. 

Her virtue is hers to protect and respect.

Honesty and integrity will give her a clear conscience and confidence. 

Reaching out and offering love to others will be her greatest source of happiness. 

I find myself occasionally facing fears about the suffering my children will inevitably face.  In my codependent moments I become desperate to control the information they receive and the circumstances they face.  But when I look back at my own journey into recovery I see a beautiful patchwork of guidance, friendship, leadership, lessons, websites, and resources.  A friend here, a blog there, a 12-step meeting, and a “chance” encounter. 

God can’t possibly have individualized Sunday school lessons for each of his suffering children.  So he sticks with the essentials.  And then with providential power, God orchestrates His world to provide what each of his children need, when they need it. 

He is the God I worship, and the God I want my daughter to worship.  He can be trusted.  He will provide. 

Is Deliverance nigh?

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I get to write about hope.  I get to write about hope!

Both Pete and I rememeber hearing or reading somewhere

How will I know if my husband is in recovery? 

He won't shut up about it.

I went through that phase.  Over a year ago I went through my zealous recovery where I felt like I couldn't get enough.  I talked about it to Pete non-stop.  Pete hated it.  He felt like it defined our lives.  He was still reluctant to acknowledge that the "problem" in our marriage necessitated the response I was giving it.  He resented all the attention, even obsession, I had with all things recovery.  He usually just listened quietly while I pontificated about my many insights and epiphanies.  But once in awhile he expressed his frustration that he felt like it was all I ever talked about.  I didn't really care, I was in it deep and loving it.  Eventually I backed off from sharing everything with him, and eventually I backed off of recovery in general.  It was discouraging and my initial flame of enthusiasm and motivation was burning out.

Last night Pete and I had a conversation that was the antithesis to the horrible, repeated conversation we've been having for months.

In place of blame-shifting, minimizing, victimizing and a general lack of empathy, there was empathy.  And personal responsibility.  And genuine remorse.  And honesty. 

Gun-shy and nervous, in the dark of our bedroom, I tentatively expressed an idea.  I was still unsure if any minute the conversation would turn and he would go back to being defensive.  But I timidly tested the waters.

"I feel so relieved that we both understand that the sexual problems in our relationship aren't my fault."

"I'm sorry" was all he said for a minute. 

Pete used to say he was sorry all the time. Until at some point along the way either I screamed at him that his words were hollow, or he just realized that those words were grossly inadequate as consolation to my pain.  Regardless, he quit saying it.  When he said it last night it was the most genuine and profoud apology I've heard in years. 

We talked more.  He owned more.  I was relieved of a huge burden.  I couldn't stop smiling.  I fell asleep smiling.

Last Friday night Pete and I went to dinner.  Across the table from him I started to chuckle. 

"What's so funny?" He asked. 

"You won't shut up about recovery." I said. 

I'm not even going to put any disclaimers about what the future may hold on my hope. I'm just going to let it shine brightly before me. 

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But you don't have to take my word for it.  Read about Pete's recent and raw recovery here.

Dear Me

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For delivery 8 May 2011 (Mother's Day)

Dear Me-

What an ironic way to celebrate the holiday.  I know last night was possibly the worst in your memory.  I know how hard it was for you to hold your newborn baby in an easy chair in the basement of your grandparent's house.  All night.

Now, with puffy red eyes, and the single Mother's day card you received from you six year old, it's a new beginning.  It is time to face the problem that has been escalating for years. Denial is over.  Reality is here.  It's time to sort it all out.  Take a deep breath.  Lean into the struggle.

For a few months you will try to carry his bag of bricks that has been handed to you. Until you know better, you can't do better.  But then you will learn, and you will pass the bag of bricks on to a Higher Power.  And you will be free to heal.

I know you will turn into a sponge.  I know you will read and read and read. And study and learn and your understanding will grow and your ideas will jumble and resolve, confuse and then clarify.

Because of the way you were raised, because of your hyper-sensitive conscience, and your propensity for guilt, the shame will be overwhelming.  Feel it.  Let it open your eyes and tear down your walls of naivete.  The new world that opens up will fill your heart with empathy and compassion.  Humanity will be different to you.  You have an opportunity to finally discover who YOU are, and let go of everything you've been trying to prove to the world that you were.  You will take the opportunity, and you will be empowered and liberated.

There will be friends. Amazing friends.  They will carry you, they will answer your sobbing, incoherent phone calls.  They will love you and teach you how to love in a new way, you've never known.  Don't be afraid, don't feel inadequate. Their love is unconditional.

It will take work.  You will spend time and emotional energy learning how to cope.  You will have to face your pride and own your vices.  You will make discoveries about Pete, about marriage, about YOU that will feel complicated and hopeless.  Then you will make discoveries that will immerse you in hope.

But it WILL be okay.  If you can't believe anyone else, believe me.  Because I am you.  A new you.  A redeemed and reformed you.  It's not over for me either.  Maybe in a few years I'll write another letter to the "me" that writes this.

In the meantime, buy Apple stock.  And don't buy Facebook stock.

Love you dearly,
Me

P.S. Read Scabs's letter here. 

Self-Determination

Buy this print here. 

When I was 12 years old I went on a business trip with my dad to San Diego. I remember it well, we stayed in a nice hotel downtown called the Horton Grand. It was charming with white bird cages that had live, brightly colored chirping birds in them. One morning we set out on our way, the weather was beautiful and my dad had planned for us to go to the zoo. But he wouldn't tell me that, he teased and tortured me with suspense about our destination until I couldn't stand it anymore. With a little attitude, and fierce determination I turned around and stomped off down the street. Sure I wouldn't last a block, my dad kept walking, expecting me to rejoin him any minute. But I didn't, and with prepubescent irrational self-confidence, I found my way back to the hotel and patiently watched the birds in the lobby.

Meanwhile my dad flagged down a police officer, feeling horrible for losing his daughter in a large city. Eventually he returned to the hotel and found me there, shocked that I had found my way back so easily, but relieved that I was okay.

Aside from my fickle spite, my dad had only himself to blame. Not for his teasing, which was innocent enough, but for the way he raised me. He raised me to be confident and determined. He taught me I could do what I wanted when I set my mind to it. Throw in a touch of spontaneity and stubbornness and he had created an independent girl, albeit a little feisty.

To this day I still consider myself to be determined and strong-willed. It is only when someone else's feelings are a factor that I hesitate to accomplish whatever task I've set forth for myself. On Thursday when I decided to leave I became set on the idea. It wasn't until I was packing that I thought carefully of how hurt Pete would be to discover his family gone for the weekend. In spite of that, feeling committed to my decision I threw some food in a cooler and we got outta Dodge.

As with most of my goals, it wasn't without it's obstacles. I had to jump through some hoops that were out of my comfort zone in order to make it happen. I had to make some tough phone calls to cancel other plans, drive through a blizzard and put chains on my tires. But it was worth all my efforts and I found satisfaction in my ability to act of my own accord. In fact, once Pete found out we were leaving he did nothing to try to stop me, likely because he knew better.

One of Pete's redeeming qualities is that he has ambition. This was one of the things that drew me to him when we dated. He had a plan, and he worked hard to execute his plan. Like me, once he sets his mind to something he follows through. And more than once it has been his efforts that have helped me to accomplish my own goals.

So I guess this is why I stay. I know that once Pete sets his mind to recovery he will figure it out and conquer. And since he has loyally stood by and given me his best effort to see through my own wild ideas, I feel like I can muster the forgiveness and patience to stand by while he works his way through this, so long as he is willing to do so. With a little attitude and fierce determination I know he can do just that. He will have to jump through some hoops and overcome some obstacles that will likely be outside his comfort zone and test his commitment. But I have confidence he is capable.

So with that, I'll let go of my fears and dig deep for that prepubescent girl who took no thought for worst case scenarios or what-ifs. And that's the best I can do for hope today.   

The New Year

I am getting a sense that New Year's Resolutions are out of fashion, too cliche and ridiculed for lack of follow-through.  But I'm going to set them regardless, because if I don't I excuse myself from making any effort at all.  And as Victor Frankl says

"Life can be pulled by goals just as surely as it can be pushed my drives." 

So, without further ado my resolutions.

1- Give up sugar for one month, beginning today.
      - Having become somewhat familiar with addiction, I've seen all the signs in my own compulsive behaviors toward chocolate, baked goods and candy.  Signs such as but not limited to
          * Eating it with reckless abandon.
          * It's never too early in the morning for it.
          * Endless justifications
          * Eating sugar whenever I [watch tv, work on my computer, drive in the car]
          * Eating it to cope with emotions
The difference here being, that I don't intend to live a life of sugar sobriety, just a month, to help me break habits, gain a new perspective/appreciation for it in small quantities, and practice self-control all while finding better ways to cope with emotions.

2- Read two books each month.
      -  This is a stretch. I love to read but have given up my reading time to Pinterest, Facebook, and blogs.  I'm excited to get sucked back into a good book, something that will challenge my gradually diminishing attention span.

3- Finish my 12-step program.
     -  I've been on Step 7 for months.  This means reading the steps, studying and pondering them, writing about them, and trying to apply them into my life.

4- Not say critical things about my family. 
      - Except to Pete.  One step at a time.

5- Once a week spend meaningful one-on-one time with one of my children.  
   
Even though all the old sayings about the new year seem cliche, and even though I know that self-improvement should really be something I focus on all year, I really can't help but feel new hope at the beginning of each year.  Tennyson said it best

"Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering 'it will be happier...'"