Conditional Love

This morning as I was walking home from my children's school, I was stewing.  Just to give you a brief update -

I've been relearning about codependency, I've been attending Al-Anon and Skyping with my therapist.  I've been discovering loving detachment, and trying really hard not to totally check out of my marriage.  Things seemed to be looking up.  Pete has been helpful and responsive and we have spent quality time together.  But he is still an emotionally closed book, and refuses to share with me anything regarding his addiction or recovery.  

The other night he said some more hurtful things.  And I felt like I handled it well.  I didn't trigger into a pathetic, sobbing mess on the floor.  I listened, and then offered my best love and committment to him.  The next day I felt really good about maintaining some sanity, until he came home.  And then I couldn't handle it.  Anger and hurt bubbled up inside of me. I think I was hoping for an apology,  In any case, I had an emotional response.

So this morning I've been stewing, and as I was walking along, some advice I have given to multiple people hit me like a face-palm.  (This is yet another reason I try not to give advice.)

You don't treat people with kindness and love to get something from them.  Because some people will never give you what you are longing for.  You treat people with love and kindness because it is the best way to feel good about yourself.  

Love, kindness and forgiveness are my moral code.  And I'm most likely to maintain contentment in my life when I live in line with my moral code.

I think I've tried a dozen different, unhealthy ways to try and elicit empathy and compassion from Pete, with no success.  I know there is a compassionate person inside of him, I've seen it.  But there is absolutely nothing I can do to force it out.

Choosing to offer him love and compassion is a choice I make with no strings attached, no expectations, no emotional ties to outcomes.  Just a gift of love that I can give when I am emotionally strong enough to give it.  Which, I'm not sure if I am, today.

It Really IS All About Love

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For reasons that I’m sure stem back to my family of origin, I used to be a sinner-phobe.  I became wildly uncomfortable with friendships that involved people who didn't see exactly as I saw, or who made choices I couldn't understand.  I surrounded myself with people who were practically just like me; good Mormon friends who never talked about anything REAL.  And in the meantime I was completely denying myself any opportunity to understand what it really meant to love someone who wasn't a family member.

Then a friend of mine had an affair.   There was a distinct moment when I was sitting in my car outside her house prepared to go inside and COMPEL her back to being just like me, when I had a strong impression to NOT do that. 

Then my husband spiraled into his pornography addiction and I had to learn how to live with, be married to, and love a sinner. *Gasp*

Before actually having any people in my life who made spiritually debilitating decisions, it was so easy to sit in church and rattle off platitudes about “hate the sin, love the sinner.”  Whereas in reality I found myself incapable of setting aside my fears, insecurities and self-righteousness to truly love "sinners" (read: people who aren't just like me).  And I’m not just talking about adulterers and sex addicts.  This naive and pious goody-goody had trouble accepting people and feeling genuine charity toward much less grievous offenders.

Then one weekend I met up with a group of women who were everything I was afraid of.  They cussed and they used phrases like “blow-jobs.”  They weren't virgins before marriage or they weren't sure they had testimonies at all.  They turned my world upside down because they were the best friends I had ever had.  Without any deliberate effort, my heart changed.  Immediately I could love them, which opened my eyes to the possibility that I had never really known how to love.   

And then it happened again, and again.  At camps and events and through emails.  My heart began brimming over with what I really believe is charity, for all different types of people.  And it has been the most fulfilling experience of my life.

I recently finished the book The God Who Weeps.  It was the second time I’d read the first four chapters, and they were a spiritual journey for me.  But it was the first time I had read the fifth and final chapter.  I finished it on an airplane, flying through the skies on my way to New York, and when I closed the book I wiped away tears of gratitude and insight. 

T. and F. Givens laid out with perfect clarity why my relationships with my WOPA friends have changed my life.  We are relational creatures.  Our greatest happiness comes from meaningful friendships.  When we are most loving, we make ourselves vulnerable to pain.  Our faith is nothing when it doesn't motivate us to consider our obligations to our fellow humans. 

“However rapturous or imperfect, fulsome or shattered, our knowledge of love has been, we sense it is the very basis and purpose of our existence.

What we may have thought was our private pathway to salvation, was intended all along as a collaborative enterprise, though we often miss the point.

When we find we have attained our authentic stature, and only in such authenticity, will we be free to engage in relationships with authentic others.  As we engage in those relationships, we find once again that the perfect community of love enhances, rather than diminishes our differences. Love is what occurs in the face of difference, not sameness…

The divine nature of man, and the divine nature of God, are shown to be the same – they are rooted in the will to love, at the price of pain, but the certainty of joy.” 

In The Meantime

Gosh- how often I've mourned the lost time that has been dedicated to recovery.  My so-called recovery has ebbed and flowed, and ebbed to the point of obsession at times.  I'm starting to feel a longing to resume old interests, pursue new ones, and try to use my recovery time more efficiently.  But for anyone who has felt like pornography addiction, or another tragedy, or even just life, has gotten in the way of their dreams, this [cheesy mommy] song is for you.

But today, it is ESPECIALLY for my friend Alicia, because there have been moments when I have been that aching heart that only she could lift. 

Alicia- Heaven hears the joy of every victory in your life, and heaven hears your heart before you cry.  And girl- I KNOW you are being sanctified.




Thank you to all my other friends who have been a friend. And for each of you- don't doubt your place, or your ability to be a gift and blessing in someone else's life. 

Hang in there peeps.  

Though Your Sins Be As Scarlet

Saatchi Online

Late Sunday afternoon Pete and I found a babysitter and drove 45 minutes to a nearby town to attend a baptism.  As we drove west along the highway the low sun was so bright through the windshield I had to close my eyes for a minute. 

I thought back to almost two years ago at a 12 step meeting when my friend, whose demeanor is quiet and dignified, wept about her husband being excommunicated from our church due to the grievous nature of his sins.  She lifted her head for a minute to look us all in the eye. 

"But I think it's going to be a good thing."

It was about a year after that when I met her husband for the first time. He sang at a speaker's meeting for addiction recovery.  He had an amazing voice, and like so many of the men in our lives, when I talked with him I could hardly believe he was the same man who had made those painful mistakes.  Addiction makes soft men hard.  It makes kind men cruel.  It makes reasonable men stupid.  It makes humble men proud. 

The baptism was a spiritual experience I can't adequately give words to here.  But I just want to testify, with my little voice here on the internet that recovery works. 

Recovery makes hard men soft. It makes cruel men kind.  It makes stupid men reasonable. And it makes proud men humble. 

I'm sure my friend would say that the anguish was severe, the journey long, and the forgiveness slow but sweet.  None of us asked for this.  None of us thought this was the life we were choosing when we made our vows. 

But here we are.  And as Pete and I drove home under the full fall moon, I felt my heart overflowing with gratitude.  I witnessed the atonement of Jesus Christ firsthand.  I saw redemption in a man and woman I love like family.  I wouldn't go back if I could.  And I really mean that.  I wouldn't trade these treasures, these experiences, this taste of charity, these relationships for a different life.  I can genuinely say that in spite of everything I love the life I have. 

"When men know why they suffer, and realize that it is for a good and wise purpose, they can bear it much better than they can in ignorance...There is always a blessing in sorrow. They who escape these things are not the fortunate ones."

~Orson F. Whitney

Yoga

So it's no secret that I've been converted to Yoga.  When I say this to non-addict people they assume I love it for the exercise. It's physically challenging for sure, I underestimated it that way before I tried it.  But I love it because it is kind.  It's emotionally cleansing.  It really is healing. 

A friend of mine told me about this organization.  When I watched the video I thought "Yes! This is us!" We are women who know suffering, and we know the power of community. 

So if you are in the Salt Lake Valley take advantage of this opportunity.  She will be in Provo Friday evening and Saturday in Salt Lake.  You can find more information on the website.  yogaforcongowomen.org

No Ordinary People

I've recently returned from another Camp Scabs.  These retreats blow my mind.

How is it that a woman can get on a plane and fly to a city to spend a weekend with perfect strangers, and yet in those 48 hours share the most intimate details of her life?

Because the brave souls open their hearts first.  And they are met with a response so full of love, compassion and acceptance that the room feels sacred, and possibly the most safe place on earth.

I can not come up with adequate words to express my gratitude for the opportunities I have to meet remarkable women.  But the truth is, I believe we are all remarkable, we are just too inhibited by fear, and misunderstood by false ideas to be noticed. 

I love you all. Share your story. Reach out. Own your truth.  Be brave. 

Suffering

I made this myself as an experiment in graphic design. Don't mock.

There is a woman my mom knows, a mother of young children, who fought cancer and finds herself healthy again.  This woman is wealthy and attractive.  She lives in a house my mom thinks is ostentatious and drives new and expensive cars. She works hard to make herself and her children look well dressed and lovely.  They are all lovely.  But my mom felt like her struggle with cancer and the possibility of death would have changed her priorities and caused her to be more focused on "important" things.  (Church service, kindness, etc.) 

"Trials aren't an automatic cure for human frailties and shortcomings.  They don't automatically make saints out of those who suffer them."  I said to my mom. 

(Thinking of myself and my seeming inability to overcome my weaknesses despite my exposure to pain.)  

For that reason, I have a deep admiration for those who are profoundly changed by grief. Julie is perhaps the finest example I have of the refining power of grief.  I've mentioned her before on my blog.  I've never met her but am consistently inspired by her healing words and authentic writing.

Sunday would have been her sweet Jonah's third birthday.  In his memory she is asking/encouraging anyone whose heart inclines them, to be especially kind or loving that day. 

Read more here. 

I think I'll give each of my kids 30 minutes of my undivided attention on Sunday and make a couple phone calls to great-grandparents as a tribute to Jonah's legacy. 

If you have the opportunity to share the love, go back to Julie's blog and tell her about it. I'm sure she would love to hear. 

The Real Connection

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The other night Pete and I were being totally inappropriate and speculating about people we knew being sex addicts.  Eventually it got to our family and we started going down the list.   Now let me say, these days I'm so jaded it would take a lot to shock me with a sex addict exposé .  But when it came to my brother both Pete and I figured he was clean.

"No way he's a sex addict."  Pete said. 

"I agree, but how are you so sure?"

"He makes the real connection." 

Apparently that's a term they use in SA.  The elusive "real connection."  And it's true.  My brother really connects with people.  He really cares about them. He keeps in touch.  He loves and forgives.  He is unselfish enough to thoughtfully consider someone's feelings, and feel genuine compassion and concern.  But also he opens his heart and lives with appreciation for the care and kindness he knows others have for him.  He is the only member of my family I have ever considered confiding in. 

I think Pete and I are both heartbroken that we don't have a real connection between us.  For so long we have looked to each other to meet our needs.  [Forgive me Harriet!] But we have expected so much of each other and been so hurt.   I wanted his recovery so much it consumed me.  And he wanted my love and admiration so much he felt crazy.  And, for the last few months, we have both been incapable of offering what the other was so desperate for. 

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Almost exactly one year ago this weekend my heart raced as I exited the plane and stepped nervously out my gate.  From across the walkway I saw a the back of a familiar blonde mane and heard the familiar excited voice of my friend Mac as she approached.  I was vulnerable and humble.  I was frantic for a real connection. 

For the next two days I feasted on real connection. 

With Camp Scabs approaching I find myself feeling that familiar nervous and vulnerable feeling.  But I am confident that once more as I sit around the table with real and amazing women I will yet again watch my cup overflow with love and genuine affection. 

Never were friendships born and matured faster, never were hearts more open and accepting, never have women been so bonded as WoPA. 

God has given me real connections to emotionally sustain me while I repair my relationship with my husband. 

The finale of Les Miserables evokes strong emotions in me.  Together, Valjean, Fantine and Eponine sing these words. 

Take my hand
And lead me to salvation
Take my love
For love is everlasting
And remember
The truth that once was spoken:
To love another person is to see the face of god.

Making a "real connection" is truly the most healing, most therapeutic, most divine feeling I've discovered.  On my worst days, I can always take solace in the love (and humor) of my dearest friends.  Strip away fame, strip away power, strip away wealth.  Experience addiction, death, privation, and ridicule.  Eliminate beauty, intelligence, and skill.  And between two people can be exchanged something so powerful yet simple, we all become equals. 

That is the real connection. 

Expectations

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I have a sister in another city who has a gift for making me feel like pond scum.  I know she loves me, and occasionally she writes me thoughtful messages even expressing the ways she admires me.  And yet, nearly every time we get together she says something critical or condescending that knocks the wind out of me, emotionally speaking. 

Surrounding these painful and often awkward moments there are fantastic memories.  This same sister also has a gift for making me laugh, and when we were kids we would always get the giggles at family prayer. When we get together we can talk for hours and we understand each other in a way only siblings do. 

But each time after our separation I am haunted and hurt by whatever cruel thing she said to me.  I weep over my disappointment that my sister, who is supposed to love and cherish me, could be so terribly unkind. 

"Each time you approach a visit with your sister, with the expectation that she is going to be sensitive to you and masterfully overcome her character frailties and personal insecurities that cause her to be unkind, you will likely be painfully disappointed when she inevitably says something judgmental."  says my counselor.

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In AA they say that an expectation is a premeditated resentment.

I know that when it comes to the language of addiction, a lot of it is just semantics.  But my "expectations" are killing me.  I'm done with expectations. I'm done "expecting" people (including Pete) to be a certain way or "expecting" them to meet my needs.  I love the Courage to Change book, and this articulates me feelings perfectly.

"Turning to an alcoholic for affection and support can be like going to a hardware store for bread.  Perhaps we expect a "good" parent to nurture and support our feelings, or a "loving" spouse to comfort and hold us when we are afraid, or a "caring" child to want to pitch in when we are ill or overwhelmed.  While these loved ones may not meet our expectations, it is our expectations, not our loved ones, that have let us down."

And no one fails to live up to my expectations more than myself.  And in disappointment with myself some of my greatest resentments are born.  By releasing myself and the people in my life from my expectations, I can accept them for who they are, today.

"Today the [addict] may or may not be able to give us what we deserve. And no one person will ever offer all that we require. If we stop insisting that our needs be met according to our will, we may discover that all the love and support we need is already at our fingertips."

Don't get me wrong, I believe in boundaries.  I think by changing my mental vernacular to make my boundaries less about expectations and more about myself and my responses to my circumstances, I am more able to let go of my futile efforts to change other people. 

I have a friend who focuses a lot of her recovery on her values.  I'm not totally familiar with this model, but I like it.  And I like it because I can replace my expectations with my values.

Instead of saying to Pete 

"I expect you to attend recovery meetings." 

I can say

"I value recovery.  My relationship with you will thrive when you attend recovery meetings." 

Why does it matter? It matters at this point because I have no control over him.  I can only control me.  And I've already decided how I'm going to live/be whether or not he values recovery meetings like I do. 

I've spent my adult life "expecting" my family to be kind, accepting and compassionate, and been broken hearted every time they have not lived up to my expectations.  I value relationships with kindness, acceptance and compassion.  And I can do my best to offer those things to my loved ones.  But I don't have to let my love and gratitude for my family members be held hostage to my own unmet expectations of them.  

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 So my therapist counsels me. 

"Go visit your sister.  Laugh with her and be vulnerable.  But don't set her up for failure by "expecting" her to meet your criteria for what a sister should be.  Accept her and enjoy her.  When she says something that is cruel, tell her that it hurts. [Boundary.] And then go right on letting her work out her own weaknesses before God." 

(As a side note- if my sister had no redeeming qualities to offer our relationship, or if what she said was unbearably cruel or consistantly negative, I think it would be totally appropriate to not spend time with her as a boundary.  I don't believe that relinquishing expectations means accepting bad behavior.  It just means not trying to change a person to meet my needs. I am blessed with other women and friends who can offer me love and friendship. I can let my sister be who she is, today.)

Taking eachother seriously

Have you experienced H.O.N.Y?  If not, go there now.  It's my favorite place to bask in humanity.

I was really moved by Josh Weed's post the other day.  There is a woman who has in the past made (what I thought were) antagonizing comments on his blog.  But lo and behold, he being the loving person he is, became friends with her.  The whole thing was a real-life example of these words, I'll leave you with. 

“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which,if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilites, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - These are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously -- no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner -- no mere tolerance or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment”

C.S. Lewis

My Validation Fixation

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"I am insatiable for validation." I wrote in my 4th step inventory. Then I doubled the font, put it in bold, and highlighted it in the word document. It could not be understated.

I don't like using the word addiction loosely. So I will say that my fixation with validation stops just short of an addiction. It is my compulsive behavior. I look for a validation fix everywhere I can. In each email I receive from a friend, I hope to be validated. In the comments on my blog I long for praise. All around me on the internet I search for opportunities to be validated by writing comments or submitting guest posts. During my sharing at group meeting I look for approval in the faces of those who listen to me. When I bear my testimony at church I anticipate complimentary responses. During an emotional crisis I reach for my phone to call a trusted friend, someone I can count on to either validate me or talk me out of my desperate need.

When these sources all fail me, I turn to social media. Instagram and Facebook are a warehouse for manufactured validation. I post a picture of myself or my kids and I find instant positive feedback. But it's never enough. There are never enough comments or "likes" to satisfy me. I am insatiable.

When validation can not be found, I default to distraction. I peruse Instagram and Facebook, or play Words With Friends. Pinterest. Amazon. Anything to distract me from the fact that I am not being acknowledged, appreciated or worshipped.

(I am not saying there is anyhing inherently wrong with these things. Just like there is nothing inherently wrong with the beach. The beach is only a place to be avoided if you're a cycling sex addict.)

*Side Note* I want to issue a formal apology here, to anyone who I emailed preachy or self-righteous advice to. There were times it was me acting out on a compulsive desire for validation, because I was insecure about my position. And I can't possibly express my gratitude sufficiently to those who have had the courage to disagree with me, to refuse to indulge my somewhat manipulative effort to be validated. Now that I'm feeling the meekness of having no answers, I am slightly embarrassed at how I behaved when I was sure I had figured it all out.

My insatiable need for validation is definitely a problem. It might be a managable problem for me but for two things. One- I look to Pete as the number one source of my validaton. Two- Pete is an addict. I loved Rhyll's words

"Even though his presence brought out a toxic reaction in me, I desperately wanted to be loved and validated by him."

Pete and I have the same blame-shifting conversation during each of his addictive cycles. The conversation where he tells me that I'm detaching too much, and I lose my confidence. I might be able to have this conversation if I wasn't so committed to pleasing him, but my need for his validation suffocates me and breaks my heart at the first sign of his disapproval. This last time, through my tears I begged him to leave the room because I could not handle the pain of his blame.

The only people who I don't look to for validation are my children. I am so thankful that they have been spared the pressure of filling my perpetual need. From them all I wish for is love. Love free of agenda or self-interest. Pure childlike love. Love that comes so naturally to them that I can be totally confident in its intentions. It is whole and it is the antidote to my disease. It is the water that quenches my insecure thirst.

Imperfect People Who Love Me

The woman who I shared my 4th step inventory with is the facilitator in the 12-step meeting I attend.  She was one of the first women I met when I started attending group meetings.  I ought to be careful what I share about her, but she is experienced and loving, and I spent the most vulnerable few hours of my life opening my soul to her. 

It is inevitable that the people we love and admire most will let us down at some point.  Our family members who love us most can often hurt us the deepest.  This is a great disapointment to my sensitive heart, and when I place someone on a pedastal, it can be heartbreaking to see that pedastal come crashing down as their own character weaknesses are exposed.   No one is perfect, and yet I find it a rude awakening when I've been blessed for so long to see only the good in someone. 

Last night in our "meeting after the meeting" I expressed an opinion.  It was about sex.  All eyes were on me.  But no sooner had I finished my sentence than my bold and vocal facilitator squashed it.  She was standing and all eyes snapped to her visage as she waxed eloquent refuting my experessed opinion with (what felt to me) both mockery and reason. 

I felt ashamed.  I felt like a crushed bug.  All eyes were back on me and I searched each pair for some sign of validation or support. 

It must be said that on my way home this dear woman called and offered a sincere and humble apology for the way she had treated me.  But the damage was done.  And soon enough I will forgive, but in the meantime I'm bitterly disappointed.

I told this story to Pete, and lamented the way this woman had changed in my eyes.  He said to me

"Eventually we see that everyone is human, with faults and frailties.  I don't think we can really know anyone until we see that."

I guess the trick is finding a way to let those faults and frailties fill me with more love, rather than less.  I've been reading in the Book of Mormon, about Moroni and Pahoran.  Moroni, the equivalent of an army general was out fighting a war and wondering why Pahoran, the equivalent of a president or king wasn't sending any aid or assistance.  Moroni, who the Book of Mormon regales with praise, writes a scathing letter to Pahoran. 

How painful it must have been for Pahoran to get that letter.  Moroni was his friend, and he wrote words like "condemnation", "slothfulness", and "negligence." And how does Pahoran respond?  Just like I did, says the girl who drove home in a fury and refused to even listen to the voicemail apology until the next morning. 

Or not.  Rather Pahoran said:

"And now, in your epistle you have censured me, but it mattereth not; I am not angry, but do rejoice in the greatness of your heart."  Then he proceeded to give a very reasonable explanation for the alleged crimes Moroni had laid against him.

I know my facilitator friend is so much more than she was in that moment.  I know Pete is so much more than his addiction.  I know that I am so much more than the insecure and self-pitying person who can't tolerate being disagreed with. 

So even if I put people on a pedastal that eventually comes crashing down, it doesn't have to be the end of my relationship with them, better yet it can be the beginning of a REAL relationship, with a REAL and imperfect person. 

Ugh, a post about Charity

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I'm going to skip question #2 for now, and go to #3.

How do I love my family in a way that won't bring out the worst in me?

And to be honest I can't answer that question in a way that says "This is how I love my family."   The best I can offer is  "This is how I should love my family."

The answer, plain and simple, is charity. 

Elder Marvin J. Ashton explained: 

"Charity is accepting someone’s differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn’t handle something the way we might have hoped."

 

Part of my problem is that I often take this a step too far.  Instead of just accepting my sister's weaknesses and having patience with them.  I dwell on them, I dramatize them, I exaggerate them, all to put myself in a place of superiority.  I become condescending and self-righteous but - *SHOCK* - this doesn't feel any better than being insulted or hurt by her criticism.

 

So I think charity includes a level of genuine compassion, for the ways that my sister's elitism hurts her, whether or not she ever acknowledges that.  I love this quote by Spencer W. Kimball

 

“Jesus saw sin as wrong but also was able to see sin as springing from deep and unmet

needs on the part of the sinner. This permitted him to condemn the sin without condemning the individual.”

 

It is not some inherent inequity between my sister and I that makes me feel less or better than her. It is not that she believes she is truly better than me in some way.  Her unkindness toward me is the product of some deep sadness she feels, and when I am in my most humble place, my heart aches for her, and anyone who suffers. 

 

So why is it so diffucult to feel that way all the time? Or to let those feelings be the feelings that guide my behavior?  Why do I want to withdraw, shut down, retaliate when my family members are unkind to me? 

 

I think the answer is two-fold

 

1. I do not feel close to God, and therefore

2. I feel afraid of rejection, afraid of the opinions of others, afraid of being inadequate. 

These fears, cause me to make choices about how I treat people that I think will protect me from being hurt, and that give me some artifical sense of power over situations, or feelings.  But operating out of fear prevents me from feeling God's love for me and my family members. 

 

Okay, now the good stuff from Danny's emails - (emphasis added)

 

One thing I'm discovering over and over and over again...charity never faileth. It may not fix the criticizer (that's up to them), but it never fails the one who bears the charity by lifting their hearts above the criticism and anger and self righteousness.
 

When you are not operating from Fear/Doubt/Enmity - you will respond better to every one around you, even those who are being critical. You'll find you're not defensive as much (being defensive comes from fear and doubt), and when you're not defensive you won't say things that cause others to be defensive in return. 
 

I made sure my interactions with [people] increased the likelihood that [they] felt faith, hope, and love.

 

Is there anything more Christ-like than deciding to offer your best self to someone who isn't willing to return the favor? And you offer your best self to them....not to show that you are better than them, or above it all, or with the intent to hang your positive interactions over their head, or anything of the sort....you offer your best self because doing so is the only reason you will be able to maintain Unity with God, and it is at the very heart of any joy you do or will receive, and is truly the only way that you can help them (whether or not they want or are ready for that help).

Unconditional love, the kind of love meant for families, love given for the sake of love, for the sake of the way it makes the giver feel whole, and happy, and peaceful.  The love I want others to offer me.

More from Danny-

So what did I discover? That I often didn't need to wait for the love and kindness to return to me from her or from someone else or even at some other time...it was simply in the offering of it that I became free to feel it...right in that VERY MOMENT.  And so, in many ways, what you offer comes back to you the second you give it...if it is given honestly and freely, holding nothing back.

Let me be honest. I am a selfish person.  I am a prideful person.  Sometimes it seems easier to just let myself be hurt and angry, to isolate myself, to build walls in my relationships.  But doing those things will not bring me closer to God, and it certainly will be the demise of good relationships with family members, husband included.

So as cliche as it sounds, true happiness, love and peace come from taking the higher road. Turning the other cheek, but not in a self-righteous proud way, but a sincere compassionate and forgiving way.  A humble way that acknowledges we all have need of love, of God and of forgiveness. 

 

Filling Our Emptiness

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This time last year I was reeling emotionally even more than I am this year.  This time last year was the end of a year of turmoil and anguish, and the beginning of a year of healing.  I was filled with fear about spending time with my family during such a silently painful time.  I couldn't share anything, and I had to act as if everything was right.   I had just discovered A Blog About Love, and it was a fairly new blog so I reached out to Danny, asking for advice about how to cope.  He wrote some very wise things, I'll share in my later post. 

But last week I went searching for his emails, desperate for something to help me through.  In my search I came across an email from Michelle (Hope and Healing) that was an answer to a prayer.  She said this:

"I've thought a lot about this with the struggles I have with extended family relationships and expectations for what such relationships 'should' look like. As I read through recovery materials, it seems the message is that as soon as we have expectations for others or for life, we set ourselves up for pain. Resentments are a key force in keeping us stuck in unhealthy behaviors and mindsets.

I think it's hard to wrap our heads around, but I think that ultimately, 12 steps are about letting God fill our needs. Fully and completely. Once we don't have to rely on anyone else, then we don't give others power over our lives and our well-being, and we trust ourselves to the care of our God.

I'm reminded of a saying my mom used to say when I was dating: "Love is sharing your fullness, not filling your emptiness." I'm also reminded of the scripture that says "All things must fail" -- except the love of Christ. I think once we realize that we simply will and do fail each other, we can stop expecting others to fill our needs and instead be grateful for whatever goodness comes in a relationship without being dependent on others for our well-being."

It was exactly what I needed.  I have already discovered, in doing a Step 4 inventory and after much reflection, that so much of my unhappiness comes from disappointed expectations about my relationships with my family members. 

We are all imperfect people, and by expecting my family to be in charge of my well-being, I set them up for failure.  How can they know of my expectation? And if they have their own emptiness, how can they be expected to fill mine?

This is not to say that we should surround ourselves with toxic people, people who offer nothing and suck everything out you.  Nor is it to say that our families don't offer us a great deal of love.  It is only to say that my peace and emotional stability need not be dependent on my idea of how my family should act and treat me. 

And because my family aren't toxic people, there is much I CAN be grateful for about my relationships with them.  I know that ultimately I can rely on God for filling my emptiness, but additionally he has given me other people to help fill my emptiness.  When I don't feel love and kindness exuding from my family members, I know I can fall back on the love and kindness I feel at group meeting, or from my online friends that I carry with me constantly.  It sustains me when I feel alone. 

I finally realized that I can best appreciate my family by releasing them from my unreasonable conjectures about how they should be, and just accept them as they are.  Which is the subject of my next post, not because I can do it, but because I've read some great things about it that I want to share.

Happy Thanksgiving

I almost considered not posting this, for fear it would sound forced or obligatory, like some of the daily gratitude posts on Facebook. In fact, I loved this quote

"Not what we say about our blessings, but how we use them, is the true measure of our Thanksgiving."

W.T. Purkiser

I am so grateful for the people I've met in the last year.  Even in the last six months, some remarkable people have entered my life, made me better, helped me cope, and loved me. 

I am so thankful for those people, and I hope you all feel sufficiently used by me for the aforementioned purposes. 

Happy Thanksgiving.  Thank you for your love!

Let People In

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Self-hatred has been lapping at my toes since I finished my step 4.  Fortunately steps 6 & 7 have kept it at bay, and given me hope for change.  I feel change, and it feels good.

But on bad days I feel overwhelmed by my inadequacies.  Or rather, my perceived inadequacies.  I finally acquired a copy of Courage to Change: One Day at a Time.  (You can get a very inexpensive used copy here.)

Here is the message for today, from Alateen:

"If no one knows us as we really are, we run the risk of becoming victims of our own self-hatred.  If we can be loved by somebody who sees us as we are, we can then begin to accept ourselves.  Others rarely think we're as bad as we do."

The people who know me as I really am, all that is wrong in my life, have been such a huge support for me when my confidence wavers and doubt and insecurities creep in. 

I hope you all have at least one person in your life who fulfills that role, and if possible a group of people.  And better yet, I hope that we are all doing our part to BE that person for someone else. 

I'm going on vacation with my family for a week to a place with palm trees. Love you all!

Introducing Club Unicorn

After hard times I become a sponge for inspiration and knowledge.  Everything I read I apply to my own life and situation.  So I just want to share a few articles/blogs/things I've been spiritually digesting of late.

I'm often the last to hear about things, so if you've already read this story/blog then you can skip straight to the comments and validate my opinion. Haha.  Just kidding.   It's about an LDS gay man, happily married to a woman.   I don't really want to get into a discussion of his lifestyle choices here, you can read the 3,634 comments for that.  I just want to talk about how much I appreciated his courage, his authenticity and his humor.  So, here's what I love about Josh Weed coming out of the closet.

1.  I admire his authenticity.  There are obvious parallels between the shame he felt at times and his concern for how people in his life would react, with my own life.  While I get the impression that he no longer feels any shame about who he is, (and his wife likewise) I am sure it was a process to get there.  I often feel the difficulty of keeping secret this very defining experience of my life.  I can relate so much to their desire for the protection of privacy and anonymity, and yet the nagging feeling that there is value in vulnerability and honesty.

2.  I LOVE what he said about intimacy.  It gives me so much hope that on our journey Pete and I can discover the closeness and communication associated with sex, that isn't related to hormones or carnal desires.  Mr. Scabs reassured us all that sex in marriage is a totally different ballgame than sex with prostitues, or the sex depicted in pornography.  I feel like Josh totally validated this point from a totally unexpected point of view, and I love it. 

3.  His general LOVE for everyone seeps from his words.  He is in a position to be compassionate and loving because he can relate so well to so many different situations.  I really believe that a significant part of his joy and fulfillment comes from the things I am so desperately trying to learn. He is making the best of the hand he was dealt, and in the process he is learning how to really love. 

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to meet some of the women I've met online.  During the hours I spent at the airport, on the plane, and then in the airport again I was filled with so much giddy, excited LOVE that I was being kinder to everyone, smiling at everyone.  I really felt like I was "in love" all over again.  This experience taught me an important lesson.   The joys of love are SO MUCH bigger than sexual attraction in a romantic relationship.   True love for an individual outside of marriage, or even family, can exist and be overpowering and all-consuming.  And it can make us feel an abundance of happiness and desire to be better people.   Going out on a limb a bit here, I think that is one of the keys to Josh's happines as a gay man in a straight relationship.  At first, that love develops betweeen one or two people who have become vulnerable to you, and you to them, then it can expand and grow until you feel it for everyone around you, and you can truly accept people as they are. 

Anyway- his "coming out" post is long (I'm so demanding with my requests for your time, aren't I?) But read it all the way through if you can, there is good stuff from beginning to end. 

http://www.joshweed.com/2012/06/club-unicorn-in-which-i-come-out-of.html

Minutes, hours, days

Yesterday was our anniversary.  Nine years.  We ate take-out with our kids.  I think we'll try for something a little more romantic this weekend.
We are two different people than we were one year ago.  In fact, we are two different people than we were one week ago.  For better or worse, right?

A few days ago I felt so discouraged, so afraid, so confused.  I remember distinctly thinking  "I know I'm going to forgive him for this, but I can't imagine how..."  The pain is so intense sometimes I can't see any way out of it.  I can't see how we are going to get to a good place again. I can't see how we will end up on the same page again.  

I can't believe it's only been one week, it feels like so much longer.  A couple days after our discussion on Friday we tried to talk about it again.  He wasn't ready to talk, but I tried to force it.  There was still too much residual hurt and anger.  We both agreed it was time we needed.  He asked if that meant space?  I said no, just minutes, hours, days. 

Sure enough, as each day passed I found myself able to make small talk with him again, to laugh again and make jokes about the kids.  It helped a little that he had to go out of town for a couple days.  Isn't it SO annoying sometimes that time is the answer?  I must be the most impatient person alive. 

RESOLUTION NOW PLEASE!

At  one point during that forced conversation he said to me:

"We're going to get through this, it's going to be okay."

At first I resented that, I felt like he wasn't taking it seriously enough.  Then I appreciated it.  Like Scabs pointed out to me, we have the same goals, we can focus on that. 

So last night after the kids were in bed we spent our anniversary sorting through the sticky stuff and we miraculously came out on top.

Just So Ya Know

Do you ever find yourself fiercely defending your husband?  In group meetings? To a family member who "knows"?

"He has this problem, but otherwise he is a great guy. He is a good husband, hard working, a great dad..."  etc...

I have.  I do.  Even on this blog I've done it.  It's like we have to prove their worth and potential in spite of their obvious weaknesses.   In this blogging environment it's even harder because there is so much focus on their problem. 

Let me just say this:

I love Pete. I believe in him.  He has infinite worth and I am grateful for his many redeeming qualities.

I believe in your husband too.  He has infinite worth, and I am certain that he has redeeming qualities. 

I just want you to know that.  There are a couple women in my ward whose husbands I have seen at group meetings.  I don't think of them as perverts.  I don't think of them as sinners.  I love them, I admire their courage, and I am cheering for them and their wives.  So I hope this can still be your safe place, where you can share your feelings honestly without being afraid that I will judge your guy.

Which brings me to my next point.  I have constant inner turmoil and conflict about finding the balance between validating your feelings and perpetuating your frustrations.   If I come down harshly on the men, it's out of infinite compassion for the women.  But at the same time I don't want to contribute to any animosity or anger that is festering in our hearts. 

SOOOOOOO... what is this all about?  If you followed the comment stream on my last post (very thought-provoking) an anonymous reader shared some things about her husband.  She wanted to come to his defense after I called him out, but due to some technical difficulties we weren't able to post her comments: so here they are, I hope she doesn't mind.  But I want her to have her say.  (It might not make sense if until you go back and read our thread.)

Haha, maybe shouldn't have swung they counselor comment out there so quickly.  Don't worry, you can trust counselors!!! We have traveled a long road and as you can see from my comment I am probably not completely healed (kind of hard to find support when all of the counselors are your husband's colleagues).  But the sin really is behind him now...it is possible. Some of his perceptions still drive me nuts.. I think he was trying to tell me that he could see that guy's perspective...but the way he said it struck a wrong chord.  But he knows when he's off and he doesn't let it get into therapy.  He believes in healing families not tearing them apart. But just in case I I totally destroyed a layer of trust for anyone out there...as an FYI...he works for the church and he has to have a temple recommend at all times or he loses his job...and they check often.   Kind of a nice perk, if you ask me.  Nothing like having your livelihood depend on it to keep you in check.  And we've been to hell and back, so he knows his stuff :).

Anon:  no harm done.  I believe you that he knows his stuff.  A little empathy goes a long way and I imagine his ability to relate to his clients can help quite a bit.  I hope you find the healing you need.

This gets a bit heavy

I've been emailing with a fellow WoPA who has been dealing with this much longer than I have, which probably means more questions, more frustration, etc.  She raised an interesting point that really had me thinking.  I'll post her question here, and then my response but I'm interested in other opinions too, so speak up if it speaks to you. 

Her question:

"If one of the major keys to recovery for the addict is improving the relationship with the spouse, than this would imply that in some way a poor relationship was responsible for fueling the addiction in the first place. That just doesn’t seemto ring true."

The best I could come up with:

After doing a 4th step inventory, and evaluating my own past and present choices, attitudes, weaknesses and strengths I've realized this.  And I'm going to have to try really hard to get this to sound right.

My shortcomings in our relationship did contribute to the resentments my husband felt about our marriage.  But he had a choice how to cope with/handle those resentments.  He chose to go against his conscience, the teachings of the gospel and he experimented with pornography.  Was I partly to blame for the issues in our sex life? Yes.  Was I at ALL to blame for the choice he made to induldge in an addictive behavior? NO. 

Does that make any sense? I know it's hard to make the distinction, but I think it's there.  I truly believe that improving the relationship is helpful in my husband's healing, but the choice still remains his.  Just like he chose his way into addiction, he has to be the one to choose his way out.  

I want to take it one step further here, something else to chew on.  Like I said, these are new ideas for me and I'm still sorting through them.

Over the course of our marriage there have been times I have mistreated my husband.  Undoubtedly.  I'm not perfect.  His way of coping with the way I mistreated him was to act out in addiction.  I'm not sure he ever justified his behavior by pointing out to himself how I mistreated him, but it would definitely be a possibility.

His addictive behaviors were definitely a way he mistreated me.  And how did I respond?  I got angry, I was cruel, I guilted and shamed.  I mistreated him.  Was I justified in mistreating him because he mistreated me?

I mistreat him, he acts out in pornography addiction and by doing so mistreats me.  I act out by being hurtful and unkind.  (Talk about a vicious cycle!) Are either of us justified? I'll grant you that addiction is probably a greater sin than the ways I have hurt him, but the principle remains the same. 

He is no more to blame for my response to his behavior than I am to blame for his response to my behavior.

If I believe (and I absolutely do!) that he is responsible for the choices he makes when he is hurt or resentful, then it must follow that I am responsible for the chocies I make when I am hurt or betrayed.   It seems reasonable to assume that if I expect him to control his thoughts and behaviors after being hurt, I ought to be able to control mine. 

Right? Or no?