More of the Same

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Last Sunday, one week ago, I sat in a bathroom, in a new home, in a new country, and cried the same tears I've cried around the world in my old bathroom.

The feelings were exactly the same.  So much had changed and yet an old familiar pain and discouragement overcame me.  No airplane could take me away from that pain.  No distance could quell it.  No ocean could separate me from it.

Pete had relapsed, which I had handled well enough I suppose, but something inside me was demanding that I withdraw and so I told him that I didn't feel safe and I couldn't be emotionally connected without trust.  He didn't appreciate that and I triggered into my old feelings of being unheard and misunderstood.

The thing is- this stuff doesn't go away for Pete and me. I'm not sure why. I had big dreams of starting a new life here, and although I didn't have any real evidence that all of the sudden Pete would quit relapsing, of course I longed for it.

But the other things is- I'm going to be okay. This is my load.  It gives me spiritual traction, it brings humility and compassion. Pete is going to be okay.  His load is changing him too, as he recovers we are learning healthier ways to communicate and love.

"There is no physical pain, no spiritual wound, no anguish of soul or heartache, no infirmity or weakness you or I ever confront in mortality that the Savior did not experience first. In a moment of weakness we may cry out, “No one knows what it is like. No one understands.” But the Son of God perfectly knows and understands, for He has felt and borne our individual burdens. And because of His infinite and eternal sacrifice, He has perfect empathy and can extend to us His arm of mercy. He can reach out, touch, succor, heal, and strengthen us to be more than we could ever be and help us to do that which we could never do." - David A. Bednar

Step 7 - Humility

Humbly ask God to remove my shortcomings. 

We've been reading the chronicles of Narnia with our kids for the last couple years and recently finished The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  There is a scene in that book that just pierced me.  The symbolism is powerful and I really couldn't think of a better way to explain Step 7.  So I'm just going to share the passage here.  [It will be a condensed version but it will still be long.]

*******
For background- Eustace is the boy cousin of Edmund and Lucy Pevensie. He is obnoxious, selfish and arrogant.  He ends up being transported to Narnia with his cousins and they find themselves on board a ship.  The ship makes landfall on an enchanted island, where Eustace drinks from a pond and is transformed into a dragon.  As a dragon, he is miserable and lonely, and his heart is softened and changed.  He describes to Edmund being transformed back into a boy.

"I looked up and saw the very last thing I expected; a huge lion.  I shut my eyes tight.  But that wasn't any good because it told me to follow it." 

"You mean it spoke?"

"I don't know. I don't think it did. But it told me all the same. And so I followed it.  And it led me a long way into the mountains where there was a garden and a well.  The water was clear and I thought I could bathe in it.  But the lion told me I must undress first. I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over.  I scratched deeper and my whole skin started peeling off beautifully.  I stepped out of it and I could see it there lying beside me, looking rather nasty.  It was a most lovely feeling.  

But just as I was going to put my feet into the water I looked down and saw that they are all hard and rough and wrinkled and skaly just as they had before.  So I scratched and tore again and this peeled off beautifully and out I stepped.  

Well exactly the same thing happened again. So I scratched away for the third time. But I knew it had been no good.  Then the lion said 

'You will have to let me undress you.' 

I was afraid of his claws, but I was desperate so I just lay flat down on my back and let him do it.  The very first tear was so deep I though it had gone right to my heart.  And when he began pulling the skin off it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt.  The only thing that made me able to bear it was the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off.  

Well he peeled the beastly stuff right off- just as I thought I had done.  And there I was, smooth and soft.  Then he caught hold of me and threw me into the water.  It smarted like anything but only for a moment.  After that it became perfectly delicious.  And then I saw that I'd turned into a boy again. 

What do you think it was?" 

"I think you've seen Aslan," said Edmund.  

"Aslan! I've heard that name mentioned several times.  I hated it.  But I was hating everything then.  And by the way, I'd like to apologize. I'm afraid I've been pretty beastly.  

But who is Aslan? Do you know him? 

"He is the great lion, the son of the Emperor. He saved me."

*************
Change can be excruciating.  There is a quote from Step 7 that I love.

"We begin to notice that behavior.  We bump into it, over and over again. We begin to feel the pain from that behavior, the helplessness, the hopelessness, our own inability to change.  And we wonder how things will or can ever be any different."

I think that's what Eustace went through as the dragon. Finally he realized how horrible he had been, and yet now he was totally helpless to do anything about it.  I think for many addicts when they hit rock bottom and realize their powerlessness, they feel like Eustace.  It is totally obvious that they can't change on their own.

But for me, I hadn't been totally horrible, it wasn't so obvious that I even NEEDED to change.  But Steps 4-6 filled me with awareness of my own behaviors that were making me miserable and sabotaging my relationships.  And with a little humility I realized that I wanted to change.  Becoming refined and feeling redemption is precipitated by pain and suffering, the only way is through. But ultimately I'm looking for some joy and "delicious" relief.

Lying to Myself

Honesty is such a big deal in this whole mess of pornography addiction.  But for a really long time all "honesty" meant to me was that my husband was giving an accurate reporting of the facts.  That was honesty. 

As I have ventured into the realms of recovery, and dug up a little self-awareness,  I've realized that honesty is more than just an accurate reporting of facts.  Someone at group meeting once sharing some research she'd heard of about how many times a day we lie to ourselves.  It was some ridiculous amount and I tried to Google it just now, but instead found this insightful quote.

"Often we lie to ourselves in order to preserve the face or self-image we want to maintain. We block out face-threatening messages, especially when they require backing down or changing our original position. Fear of embarrassment motivates many not to face reality, where we don't want to admit we goofed up, were selfish jerks, or lacked self-control. In short, we lie to ourselves to avoid an ugly truth. In confirmation, defense-mechanism researchers ... point out, self-deception is a mental process that operates unconsciously to reduce painful emotions."

At a therapy appointment recently I was talking about how I had made a decision (after thoughtful consideration and prayerful diligence) to share my story - and therefore indirectly Pete's story- with a family member.  I told my therapist that before I decided it was the right thing to do I had carefully considered the fall-out.  I convinced myself I would be okay (LIE) with whatever consequences came from my choice, but I really needed to do it. 

Unfortunately, after I shared with the family member, I found myself on my therapist's couch pouring out my heart about how UNFAIR the consequences of my choice were.  The most difficult consequence being Pete's absolute conviction that what I had done was wrong. 

"I HAVE to make him agree with me about this." I sobbed.  "We need to be united about it." I whined. 

Gently he said to me

"But you said you were going to be okay with the fall-out of your choice." 

"Well yeah."

Bracing himself for a fight, he responded

"But it kinda seems like you're not."

I started laughing. 

"You totally just called me out?! So does this mean that I was wrong to do what I did because I am NOT in fact properly coping with the outcome?"

"No." He said. "Not at all.  It just means you weren't honest with yourself." 

In other words- if I had been totally honest with myself I could have said "This is going to be hard. It is going to be really painful to do something my husband doesn't agree with.  We might never reconcile about this issue. I might need to see my therapist to help me cope with the fall-out of this choice.  But it's the right thing to do.  So I'll do it, knowing full well that I'm not as strong as I wish I was, and owning the consequences of my choice." 

The truth is- self-awareness and personal honesty DO subject me to painful emotions.  It's hard to acknowledge that I'm not what I want to be or where I want to be.  But painful emotions are no longer the enemy.  Self-deception is the enemy.  Believing I am right, when I am wrong.  Refusing to acknowledge my own inadequacy to protect an image.  Deliberately ignoring relationships with people who know about my character defects.  All of those things prevent me from really healing. 

Because there is nothing wrong with being imperfect.  There is nothing to be ashamed of about making a mistake. There is freedom in accepting that I don't always have to be right.  What pressure I've put on myself! I've found it both painful and liberating to get out from beneath the lies I tell myself.

Because...

Wounds

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A few weeks ago Pete and I were working on something together.  In an impulsive and reckless gesture that was meant to be a joke, he lunged at me with his equipment.  I had my back to him, unable to hear him above the noise of the machine, and it caught my flesh.  I jumped and spun around. I looked down.  Pink welts started to form on my leg.

We rushed inside and he did everything he could to take care of my wound.  It became red and raw.  As the moments pass it looked worse and worse. Pete's face was white. There were no words to his remorse. No adequate apologies for his stupidity. He did everything he could think of to make me comfortable.  He felt such utter despair that I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

At first it stung.  But the shock of what he had done protected me from immediate pain.  Gradually though it started to throb.  The kind of pain where you can feel your pulse in the injury.  After a few hours of throbbing, it reduced to a lingering ache.  At night when I fell asleep I would forget about it until the morning, when I stood up and felt stiff as my body reminded me the wound was still there. 

Pete bent over backwards to make it right.  He would look at it and touch it with painful regret, and all the meekness of the penitent.  He was attentive and compassionate.  He never once let pride prevent him from demonstrating his repentance.  He took ownership of the injury and was perfectly responsible for it.  He exhibited relentless sympathy and never tired of my complaints at the pain and inconvenience of it. 

At one point he said "This is the stupidest thing I've ever done." And I looked at him quizzically. 

It is remarkable to me how I heal from this trauma more quickly when my hurt is met with ownership and responsibility.  How my heart melts like butter on a skillet when I am treated with genuine tenderness and compassion.  I have such a longing for that tireless sympathy whenever the pain and inconveniences of this experience resurface. 

My flesh wound has healed.  There is a scar, but it only brings feelings of warmth and gratitude when I think of how I was treated while I was healing. 

"I did this to you." He said.  "I can't believe I did it. But whatever you need, I'll give it to you."

Breakthrough post-breakdown

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Pete left town for a couple days this week.  We were at an impasse.  We weren't speaking about anything above and beyond chirping smoke detectors and schedules.  While he was gone I don't think we spoke at all.

It was a painful few days for me.  One night I found myself melting into a puddle of despair and tears on the living room floor.  I needed to have a good cry. 

Eventually (with the help of fantastic friends), I came to terms with the fact that it was okay for me to have boundaries and to detach, no matter what Pete said to me or how he responded.  I was prepared to have this thing go unresolved, to disagree indefinitely.  In my mind that meant more detaching, more protecting, more distance. 

Before Pete left town he had another relapse.  A day of discouragement and apathy.  But his binge left him feeling sick, and humble and he took his time alone for a chance to get right with God.  And me. When he returned we sat on the couch and he talked.  He apologized.  He was vulnerable.  He articulated thoughts that gave me understanding, but he also validated me.  It wasn't manipulative, it wasn't coercive.  It was as if I could see his soul. 

I feel so blessed that things took this turn.  I know that it doesn't always work that way.  Sometimes when we turn our will over to the Lord, things unfold just the way we hoped they would.  But sometimes they don't.  Sometimes the Lord has a different plan. 

Regardless, I know that this whole addiction bit is like an onion, peeling away layer after complicated layer.  I'm grateful that Pete is peeling away with me for now.  Because man it reeks and stings. 

Weapons in My Private Cognitive Warfare

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So, in an effort to keep the bird from building a nest on my head, I came up with some simple, but meaningful phrases.  I want to memorize these, take them with me everywhere for awhile, until I can pull them up into my consciousness whenever my negative, self-pitying, critical thoughts start to take hold.  This is an experiment of sorts I guess.  Has anyone else tried something like this? I got the idea from Mara's post.

Many of these came from quotes or ideas from others, so I've cited those sources at the bottom.  I tried to make the statements concise and rhythmic.  We'll see...

#1- WORTH

• I need not depend on others to validate my worth.
• I need not prove my worth.¹
• I need only compare myself as I am and as I used to be.²

#2- LOVE

• I can make room for empathy by letting go of shame and guilt.
• I can love others as a reflection of God's love in me.
• I can be true to my faith, and a blessing to others regardless of their faith.³

#3- PETE

• I can demonstrate admiration.
• I can reciprocate love through affection.

#4- GRATITUDE

• I will not let my soul be sorrow's home.⁴
• I will not be blind to the goodness of those who surround me.

#5- HUMILITY

• I am loved by God the way I am, but loved too much to be left this way.⁵  
• I can give up the charade of my righteousness.⁶
• I can choose love over esteem, kindness over recognition.⁷
• I can see that my personal need for the Savior is not affected by what others have or have not done. ⁸

1. Marjorie Pay Hinckley
2. Courage to Change: One Day at a Time - I NEED this book.  I hear good quotes from it all the time at group meeting. 
3. Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks Jewish Imperative
4. S. Michael Wilcox - Sunset - The exact quote reads: "The soul was not made by God to be sorrow's home. He would have us happy."
5. Brad Wilcox - his words I'm referencing here are from a different presentation not available online.
6-8. James L. Ferrell - Falling to Heaven

Inherent worth

So waaaay back when, in the beginning of it all, I was worried my hero Jacy was becoming a man hater.  I sent her an email one night trying to pass along a little seed of hope for her that there are good men out there.  In response she wrote this post.  (On her old blog, last September.)  It's great.  Flash forward to today and I read a comment on her new blog from a concerned woman, regarding that post; but for inexplicable reasons she was unable to comment there and commented instead on Jacy's post about Perfection. 

Was that confusing?  Anyway, I really hope she doesn't mind me doing this, but I want to give her hope too! So I'm going to paste parts of her comment here (it was anonymous) and respond to it.  Because these things are very close to my heart.

"I find myself reading blogs like these until all hours in the night, because the emotions are still strong, and frankly, I'm completely nervous for our society. We are a mess. Everything is a mess, when it comes to this. I have a son, and I'm scared to death to raise him. But it's not just him - my girls. What are the chances they will end up married to someone with this problem? Probably pretty high that at least one of them will. So I read about it, stew about it, and again confront my husband to make sure he is not doing it (really, though, I do believe him, as I've snooped pretty hard, and found 0 evidence).

The ratio of worthy women to men is completely skewed, and getting more that way every day. What do you think?"

So sorry to butt in here, I know you were probably asking Jacy, but here is what I think:

Am I more worthy than my husband?

I'm currently reading "Falling to Heaven" by James Ferrell.  (Also the author of The Peacegiver.)  He talks about this very issue, he addresses the common idea that women are "more spiritual" than men.  This is what he says. 

"Do I believe that men are helped by women to become more than they could be alone? A thousand times, yes. Just as I believe that our gender differences make men helpful to women in precisely the same way.  We tweak each other's weaknesses, which allows for individual and mutual growth that would be more difficult to come by otherwise.  To invite one gender to think themselves a mountain and the other to consider themselves but a valley is to pit partners against each other and to sow bitterness rather than love.  If it is the duty of the man (which I believe it is) to care first and foremost for his wife, it is equally the duty of the wife to care first and foremost for her husband." 

In order to have a mutually fulfilling and joyful, loving relationship with Pete, I have to let go of the idea that I am inherently superior to him in spirituality.

I do not believe a pornography addiction will keep my husband out of the celestial kingdom any more than some of my own selfish, carnal behaviors will keep me out.  Of course, I have hope that my husband will overcome his addiction in this life, because his behaviors will always be hurtful to me.  But his addiction has no bearing on his worth.  One thing I make great effort to convey on this blog is how this experience has caused me to reflect on my own need for a Savior.  I, just like Pete, have need of the atonement of Jesus Christ.

I do not mean to imply that all sins are equal.  I do not believe this.  Some sins are absolutely more aggregious. Pornography addiction is an ugly thing, and in the life of an addict who doesn't turn to the Savior it can wreak havoc and destroy families in the process.

But I do believe all souls are equal.  And additionally, all sin keeps us seperated from God, which means we ALL need the atonement equally.   I am no more worthy than my husband, in that sense.  And I hope that together we will endure through this life to find reprieve from our frailties in the eternities, together. 

  With regard to my children.  I hope they are spared this pain-- and yet it has made all the difference for me in my life.  And since no one is spared suffering, I am trying to replace my fear and hopelessness with courage and conviction to teach them about faith, love and gratitude to carry them through whatever difficulty comes their way. 

If you read this dear Anonymous-commenter-on-Jacy's-blog, I hope it helps cheer your heart.  Life is good.  Men are good.  We're ALL going to be okay.  As Scab's loves to say, we already know which side wins. 

Right?

Step 5: Confession

I was pretty nervous.  How often do you sit down with someone and pour your heart out, bare your soul, confess to the ugliest parts of you that you are so ashamed of you've ignored them for years and years? 

Well, I never had before.

And yet I had a sense of anticipation, that this was going to be monumental, that it was a new beginning, and opportunity for change and progress.

I drove in silence, I tried to think of a song that would bring me peace but my mind came up blank.  I drove to a part of a nearby town where you might expect to find addicts living, and pulled into the driveway of my sponsor's duplex.  She met me there, with a giant hug.  I immediately felt loved.  We sat, she brought me a glass of water and offered a prayer. 

On her wall hung one of those wood boards you see at craft fairs, or you might make at a super Saturday activity.  The kind with cheesy vinyl sayings like "All Because Two People Fell In Love", the kind of sayings that on your rough days with your addicted husband make you want to barf.  But instead of of a trite, cliche phrase, in metal plating it read

"Recovery is a family value."

I loved it.  I wanted to take it home with me.  I want to hang it right over a framed list of the 12 steps.  Right in the entry way.

Before she let me start reading she gave me some encouraging words.  I don't remember what the words were, but their general effect was to embue me with confidence.  And it worked.  I started and I plowed through pages of weaknesses and character flaws that haunt me.  A couple times she laughed, and I looked up to see what was so funny, only to realize that she was laughing because she could relate, she had those problems too. 

I finished my list of strengths and weaknesses, mostly emotionless.  We discussed.  Then she pointed out that I had said nothing of my husband, or my relationship with him.  She worried about this.  So I pulled out my pages of resentments toward people.  This one.  I hadn't planned on reading that.  I had felt like I covered most of those issues in the list I compiled about myself. 

But God wanted me to read it.  And I couldn't make it through without the pain of those relationships bringing me to tears.  I wept as I confronted the broken parts of me.  Saying them out loud finally made them real, and it hurt. 

She gave me some comforting thoughts and an assignment of something to read.  We started to wrap things up right as the front door opened and her adult daugther walked in, reeking of cigarette smoke.   She's a recoverying addict herself and offered to leave, but I told her she could stay, we were almost done.  She offered me a hot dog and sat down with a couple for herself.  She made me laugh, and we made addict jokes. 

My sponsor walked me out to my car and reminded me of my worth, in a moment when I was feeling pretty weak.  Another hug, more love.

I drove away at dusk feeling like it wasn't over yet.  I drove to our church, out in the country, and pulled into a spot at the back of the parking lot.  I walked out onto the wet grass, the sprinklers had just been on.  I found a spot by a couple of pine trees and knelt down. 

Then I prayed, Enos style.  I poured my heart out.  I threw eloquence and formal prayer language out the window and I said whatever came into my head.  I apologized for being ungrateful.  I plead for forgiveness for hurtful things I've done to others.  I confessed that I knew I was wasting my talents or neglecting my responsibilities.   I asked for his help.  I asked for forgiveness.  I begged for him to change my heart.   I thanked him for my blessings and for the good people around me.  I acknowledged him and his hand in my life. 

I word vomited to God.

And cried some more.

When I was done it was dark and I looked up at the moon.  I thought of Jesus Christ, and felt so relieved that it didn't matter that I am so imperfect. 

"In taking Step 5 we admit to our Heavenly Father in a very personal way our need for the gift He offers in providing us with a Savior.  This tender exchange not only deepens our emotional and spiritual connection with our Father in Heaven, but also with our Savior, who encircles us in the arms of His love and whispers peace to our souls.  We are reminded by the assurance of the Holy Spirit that we are loved, singularly and personally.  Receiving this assurance of God's love for us does more than any earthly source to fill us with genuine acceptance of ourselves, gratitude for our strengths, and hope in spite of our human frailties."  (Step 5, Healing Through Christ 12-step manual.)

Now, when my human frailties rear their ugly head and I see them for what they are, I find comfort in knowing that I don't HAVE to be that person any more.  I can change. 

"God doesn't care nearly as much about where you have been as He does about where you are, and with His help, where you are willing to go."  (Elder Jeffrey R. Holland)

Step 4: Jane's way

I finished my Step 4 written moral inventory. 

BIG. HUGE.  SIGH.

It was painful, but tremendously cathartic.  Most of what I want to write here, today, is just the logistics of my experience, what I did.  Because in the beginning, I had no idea what I was supposed to do.  I didn't know where to start, I felt like the outline in the manual was too ambiguous.  So I reached out to a couple people who had completed theirs and then I just started writing.

First, I wrote a biographical sketch.  I started at birth and included any relationship or event that popped into my mind.  I just wrote, trying not to analyze anything, just to include things that I felt I either had residual negative feelings about, or that I felt demonstrated some kind of meaningful experience.  As I wrote, I did start to notice patterns and themes in my life and my relationships. So in another document, I started making a list of my strengths and weaknesses, and recorded my reoccurring shortcomings there.  

I wasn't satisfied with this, I wasn't sure I was uncovering everything I needed to.  So I turned to this website: (shared with me by Scabs)  http://www.step12.com/step-4.html

In contains four worksheets from the AA 12-step program to assist with the inventory.  I only completed the first one because I felt like it was the one that most applied to me, and because by this time I was three months into this process.  It was very helpful, and it gave me the opportunity to take responsibility for some grievances I have long held against people in my life, particularly people I love most.  (Ironic, perhaps?) 

After finishing that worksheet I had more information about myself to add to my list of strengths and weaknesses.  So for the last few weeks I have just been contemplating the following paragraph from the aforementioned website:

"If you doubt that you have any problems -- just think back to the last time that you felt restless, irritable and discontented. Remember when you got angry - with your self or with another person. Remember the last time you were disturbed. Remember the last time you had a problem or troubles. The last time you felt uncomfortable and not at ease in a situation. What was it? Whom was it with? What happened? "

Eventually it got to the point where the root of my discontent could be traced back to a handful of insecurities, weaknesses or attitudes.  At this point, I felt like I was ready to be finished.

I don't share all this because I think I did it the RIGHT way.  There is no RIGHT way, only the way that is right for you.  I constantly fought the temptation to feel like I needed to be more thorough, write more, think more.  But I realized this process is ongoing, and as I personally plan to have the 12 steps as a part of my life indefinitely, I know I will have more opportunites for self-reflection.  After I had mostly completed my inventory, at group meeting we read Step 4 from the original manual for addicts, and that was also very helpful.  (There is a list of questions on page 22 that I think I will use whenever I find myself "irritable" or "disturbed.")

Just in closing I want to share a quote that helped me stay afloat during periods of despair as I realized my own nothingness.  (I apologize if I've shared it before, it's a personal favorite.)

"We can distinguish more clearly between divine discontent and the devil's dissonance, between dissatisfaction with self and disdain for self.  We need the first and must shun the second, remembering when conscience calls to us from the next ridge, it is not solely to scold, but also to beckon." 

"Come on over" my conscience says to me.  "Here you will find that no matter your weakness you are still worthy of the atonement and the love of Jesus Christ."

Queen of Excuses

Back in the late 90's when you saw WWJD everywhere, particularly on plastic bracelets and people put "Jesus Freak" on bumper stickers; a Christian rock group was wildly popular.  I was in 9th grade at the time and I had an evangelical friend who shared the music of DC Talk with me.  I hadn't listened to these songs in years, obviously we are separated from that time by an entire decade,  but on Saturday I put one on my running playlist somewhat randomely. (Or not.) 


I was coping relatively well with the news I received on Friday.  But then Saturday night something happened to shake my emotional stability and now I find myself floundering a bit.

Worse than floundering, I find myself fighting off the urge to slip back into old habits of self-pity.  I'm justifying pathetic behavior, I am feeling sorry for myself and acting ridiculously lazy.  My kids are paying the price, and so am I.  I am not living the moment/day/life I wanted. 

For so long I was doing so good at owning my recovery, and now I am tempted to be codependent again, letting my mood be totally influenced by circumstances rather than self-control.  I thought I'd figured this out, and yet now I am feeling content to be sad and depressed. 

So back to DC Talk....

This morning as I ran I heard the words of this song and they resonated with me:
(In The Light - dc talk)
"I keep trying to find a life
On my own, apart from you
I am the [queen] of excuses
I've got one for every selfish thing I do

What's going on inside of me?
I despise my own behavior
This only serves to confirm my suspicions
That I am still a [wo]man in need of a savior"

I AM the queen of excuses.  Mine are pretty good ones if I do say so myself... But ultimately I don't want to be pathetic, depressed and self-pitying.  I want to be happy and confident again.

So, bear with my "Come to Jesus" moment here.  But I'm learning I really can't change without help.  And no earthly being can give me that help.

Here is another, different, dc Talk song that I remembered from all those years ago.  (I'm not quite sure of the significance of all the images, but you know how these homemade YouTube montage videos can be...)

 

Insight

Just as a continuation of my previous thoughts... the concept I described, [that if we knew why someone made the choices they did about divorce we wouldn't judge them for it], can be applied to pretty much everything. 

I have next door neighbors that I have criticized in the past for things like how they discipline their children, that they don't go to church, blah blah blah.  Then last weekend I learned something about them that made me feel so sheepish.  And I thought about all the feelings I've been having lately.

If only I had known what good things they do.  If I had known before that they are always serving our other neighbors, and that they make big sacrifices to get to church activities that anyone else would just skip.  If had known all those things, I never would have been critical of them. 

Isn't that ridiculous?

I'm so ashamed that I can't just take God's word for it.  I can't just trust that if he loves everyone I should too. 

My world came crashing down when I realized my husband, MY husband looked at pornography.  I've been humbled.  This experience is allowing me to see that everyone hurts, everyone gets disappointed, everyone is trying.  Because, by golly I was trying and I still ended up witnessing sin first hand.  Gradually, with much prayer, I am feeling love and acceptance of others without having to force it.  Instead of loving because I am commanded, I love because I need love right now.  I love because I know that in the quiet heart of another can be found the pain that resides in my own quiet heart.

Being married to a pornography addict isn't something you go around asking for sympathy about.  But as I've mentioned before, sympathy is something I desperately want sometimes.  So I am learning how to give it away, no strings attached.  You don't have to tell me why you do what you do, choose what you choose, say what you say.  I'll love you anyway.

press forward

We met again with the stake president and it was another great experience.  I really felt the spirit and I could tell that Pete felt humble and willing to do whatever the stake president had decided.  He extended the calling as elder's quorum president to Pete, and he accepted. 

During the nearly two weeks that this process took place I prayed and prayed for humility.  I've realized my attitude about callings has been so misguided in the past.  A calling is no indication of righteousness.  Of course there is worthiness involved, but God has plans for his children that are deeply personal and individual and forming general opinions of people based on the way they serve in the church is unfair and just plain off-base.  Pete and I were both so taken back by this turn of events, but at the same time there were conversations, events and feelings that made us both realize God is aware of us. 

With the encouragement of the stake president, my husband agreed to attend the 12-Step group meetings.  A group for the spouse meets at the same time and I plan to attend that as well.  We are both apprehensive, but hopeful.  The last few days since our meeting with the stake president I have felt like perhaps this is a turning point for us. 

While it is tempting to think that this is the end of Pete's struggle, I resist the urge to do so.  I feel more like it is another beginning.  The road ahead is still long, but I am praying for fewer obstacles and bumps than the road behind that we have travelled to get here.

Judge Not

After Pete's most recent episode I desperately wanted to talk to someone.  It always feels so lonely during the times when we are not communicating well.  What I wanted was a friend who I could pour my heart out to, and disclose everything.  I wanted some small relief of my burden by sharing it with another. 

Unfortunately I knew this wasn't possible, or wise.  I couldn't betray Pete by sharing his weaknesses publicly.  And I could not think of any friend who would be able to listen without judging.  Pornography is so taboo that I feel my friend's opinion of my husband would be forever altered in a negative way.  I wish this were not the case and it caused me to reflect on what friendship really means.

All I wanted was acceptance.  I wanted to be able to lay it all on the table with a good friend and have her love me unconditionally.  I didn't expect her to condone his behavior, absolutely not.  I just wanted to know that her loyalty would remain unchanged.  I've never felt so strongly the desire not to be judged.  It made my heart ache. 

I hope to take this lesson with me.  I hope to be the kind of friend that loves in spite of sin, especially much less grevious sins.  I hope to be able to offer forgiveness so instantly when a friend confesses or offends that my love remains the same, or perhaps even grows. 

My capacity for empathy grows each day as I realize that all of us have temptations that we are aware and often ashamed of.  Part of coping with Pete's addiction is finding humility and getting past my feelings of embarrassment and pride.  But that is another chapter for another day...