Destruction

At 36, this is never where I expected my life to be. Many times as a child I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I promise that "Sex Addict" was never among the responses.  I never dreamed there would be a point in my life where I'd be seeing an addiction therapist, food therapist, physical therapist and group therapist weekly, as well as attending 2-3 SA meetings a week.  Never, in my wildest dreams, was this where I wanted to be.

How did I get here? I ask that question of myself often. I started like every other little girl, playing barbies, wanting a husband and a family. I grew up going to church and feeling loved by my Heavenly Father. I got good grades, played in the band, and swam on a swim team. I worked through high school and even helped support my family when my dad was laid off. 

So what happened? I'm not quite sure, and know it will take me years to figure out.  But, in the meantime, I have found great comfort in the following:

"I believe that even in the depths of our addiction, each of us tried to choose the least destructive options we saw at the time. As we learn better options, we improve. I need to let go of my shame for not knowing what I had never been taught or shown, and I need to support others as they learn to do the same."  Step Into Action, 4, 5, 6, 7, page 38.   

When I look at the world, I see extremes. I can be good or bad, but nothing in between. I am successful or not, perfect or a failure, right or wrong, joyful or depressed. This attitude is something I learned from my closed, enmeshed family, where our parents lived in extremes.  When I look at options available to me, I tend to see the opposite sides of the spectrum and nothing else. As I look back on my life, I really do feel that I took the least destructive options that I saw available to me. 

How did addiction, sex, and food become the least destructive option available? As I progressed in life, not processing emotions, having no boundaries, and not knowing how to get my needs met, my options slowly faded away. When I started having phone sex, I was both devastated and excited. My family was constantly in crisis and my need to keep them stable prevented me from sharing my emotions or loneliness with them and getting any type of support. My inability to be vulnerable kept people at arms length and never allowed even the interested men to get very far with me. Yet, I didn't know that's what was happening. I just thought I was unlovable because I couldn't seem to make or keep friends or relationships. I felt trapped and desperate. One night, while chatting with a guy I met on an LDS dating website, he suggested we talk on the phone. That seemed harmless to me. We talked for hours. The next night he called again and started asking more personal questions. I had no boundaries and answered his questions without hesitation. We had phone sex that night, and nearly every night for a week. Like I said -- equally devastated and excited. I thought this was the vulnerability and closeness I had always wanted that seemed to elude me everywhere. Yet, I knew what I was doing was absolutely wrong. And thus the double life began.  That was 2004.

I'm grateful that today, I can see more options. As more and more options become available to me through knowledge and therapy, I improve. I'm grateful I'm not trapped anymore. I'm grateful to have found help. 

Knowing that I truly took the least destruction options I saw available to me also allows me to be more compassionate to others.  My least destructive path took me into addiction. When I look at others whom I feel have wronged or offended me, I can take a step back and realize that they, too, probably took what they felt was the least destruction option.  I can forgive more readily when I look at things from that perspective. My parents didn't start out thinking "we're going to screw up our kids by never talking about sex". Nor do I think my mom thought that making cookies every day of my life instead of actually talking to me about feelings would lead to a food addiction.

So bring on all the therapy and meetings and books because the more options I have, the less destruction and mayhem I will wreck on my life and those around me. And, heaven knows, we could all do with a little less desctruction and a little more compassion.