Answers

I've really been struggling the last few weeks with real shame around my body.  Shame is a dark place to be.... the longer I stay, the more distorted my thinking becomes.  When it gets that dark I don't leave the house, I don't get dressed or bother to do my hair.  I quit eating, thinking that starving myself thin is a viable option.  I don't respond to phone calls or text messages.  I troll the pages of Facebook, comparing myself to all of my amazing friends and feeling sorry for myself because I am alone without children.  Sometimes I cry for hours.  Other times I watch TV episodes one after another trying to numb the feelings I have going on inside me.

Yesterday was one of those days.  Having spent Friday afternoon/evening with my nephews and brothers, I woke up Saturday feeling lonely.  Rather than turn to fantasy.... which is what I used to do on Saturday mornings.... I grabbed my kindle and started watching a TV show.  Eight hours and I have no idea how many episodes later, I forced myself to turn it off.

It's time to figure this out.  It's time to dig deep and face the shame I have about being tall, having big hands, big feet and a big head.  It's time to figure out food and what it means to me.  It's time.

I've felt this way before, this determined before, this fed up before, and I want this time to be different.

I'm fasting today.  When I knelt down last night to start my fast with a prayer, I said those very things.  "It's time to figure this out, I pray for Thy help.  I know I've said this before but this time is different.  I don't know why. But it is." 

At church this morning, they pulled me last minute into Primary to play the piano.  What was today's lesson about?  "I Am Thankful for My Body".  Coincidence? No.  I quit believing in coincidence a long, long time ago.  Tears ran down my face as the teacher read this quote:

"Our bodies are the temples of our spirits.  Even thou we choose what to do with them while we are here on earth, we must remember that they are sacred because Heavenly Father created them.  President Gordon B. Hinckley said, "Our bodies... are the tabernacles of our spirits.  He who is the Father of those spirits would have us build strength and virtue into these personal tabernacles."

"Satan is jealous of everyone who has a body, because he cannot have one.  He tempts us to ruin our body's purity by taking harmful substances or involving ourselves in addiction.  He even tempts us to be ashamed of our bodies -- to think that they aren't good enough, tall enough, strong enough, or pretty enough.  If we follow the Spirit, we will be able to build strength and virtue into our bodies, and we won't believe the devil's lies about them.  Heavenly Father is pleased with the earthly temples created for our spirits.  We must show reverence for our bodies and treat them as holy temples."
(My Body -- a Temple, Friend, May 2002)

Heavenly Father is not ashamed of me.  He is not ashamed of my body or appearance.  I believe that.  I know he's not ashamed of me.  I feel His spirit with me and feel his love and approval. 

Then why should I be ashamed of myself?  Why should I believe Satan's lies and give way to his thoughts within my own head? 

I love the quote by Pres. Hinckley -- build strength and virtue into these personal tabernacles.   What am I doing to build strength and virtue into my body?  I'm not sure -- but I'm going to start working on it.

I am again filled with gratitude for my Heavenly Father and Savior.  For the quick answers to prayer and fasting I received today.  I am constantly amazed at how quickly my reaching is met with loving words and a calm spirit. 

My first boyfriend

I've always known that my dad and I had issues.  We never got along like he did with my sisters.  He took me along to do all the work, but never played with me.  Our relationship was always strained.  He was always obsessed with my weight and dieting, suggesting I have weight loss surgery. 

In the past few weeks I've learned more about my dad than I probably ever wanted to know.  First it was that he cheated on my mom.  I got through that one.  But recently it was that he had a pornography problem. 

My first thought?  "That explains a lot.  I'm not pretty enough.  That is why he didn't like me." 

Seriously, that was my first thought.  How sad is that. 

During therapy today it was suggested that your dad is kind of like your first boyfriend.  From him you learn what kind of treatment you deserve, how men should speak to women from experience or from watching him speak to your mom, and even what relationships look like in general. 

Tears streamed down my face as my therapist described this analogy and related a story to me, because -- it's true.  Your dad is kind of like your first boyfriend. 

And these are the results of that in my life:

-- Every man I've dated has been an addict.  Two of which I met while acting out.  Three of which know nothing about my addiction, nor did I act out with them.  If given up a line-up of men, I seem to always pick the addict. 

-- Even the friends I choose have addiction in their lives.  T's husband has a serious porn addiction, L's battling her own food addiction, M has his own battle with sexuality, E has sexual abuse in her past and is not sexual anorexic.  You could say that addiction is just that common, and I believe that is true.  But seriously, I pick broken people without even knowing they're broken. 

-- Every sexual experience I have ever had has been addictive.

-- I started my addiction using sexuality to attract and retain men in my life because nothing else worked and I didn't feel attractive. 

-- I used sexuality as a solution to any argument or difference of opinion I had with men.

But I think the hardest ones to examine are how I feel because of what I learned from him:

-- I don't believe I am worthy of a relationship.  I don't feel like a man would ever choose to be with me for the rest of my life because of the way I look. 

When it comes down to it, I want a man to choose to be with me.  No man, ever in my life, has made that choice. 

I've tied all of this up in my appearance.  It's what I use as the reason and excuse that men don't choose me.  As I've been thinking about dating and have felt lonely recently, this has become a bigger issue than it was before. 

There is a John Mayer song -- "Daughters" -- that I've had a love/hate relationship with.  I enjoy the song, but remember someone once telling me how unrealistic it is.  But today, it has new meaning:

You see that sin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left, cleaning up the mess he made

My dad didn't physically leave our family, but emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually he left our family years and years ago.  My mom turned to me to fill the void and I became the family rescuer.  At 7 -- on a hike with the family, he took a nap and left me responsible for the 4 little kids at the lake.  At 8 -- he made me cut a fishing hook out of my brothers head because he couldn't handle blood.  At 9 -- I was responsible for cleaning the carpets with the big hot water machine.  At 13 -- I threw a paper route to support the family.  At 16 -- I wrote my dad's resume and cover letter for a job he wanted.  At 35 -- I moved home and took care of him until he died from cancer, changing his diapers, showering him, picking him up off the ground when he fell.  And now, at 37 -- I'm cleaning up after him again, trying to help my mom sort out the emotional mess he left with her, and my own emotional baggage. 

The major problem comes from the fact that he is my dad and not just a boyfriend.  I could break up with a boyfriend.  How do you break up with your dead father? 

Guilt vs. Shame

I read this on a blog today:

"I’m realizing just how powerful shame is. More than any other emotion, shame separates us from ourselves and from others. Guilt doesn’t do that. When I feel guilty about something I often work to make it right. But when I feel shame about something I work to hide it. That’s the difference. Shame wants to hide. Shame does not want to be seen or noticed. Shame becomes defensive and angry and resentful and bitter. It gnaws away at us and drives us deeper into the dark pit of despair, breeding feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness spiraling us to great depths of hiding. Shame convincingly tell us the lie that if we are seen and known we will not survive."

I love this definition of the differences between guilt and shame.  I've read a lot about shame and experienced a lot of shame.  I've already read a lot about guilt.  But I haven't succinctly seen the differences written out like this.

Guilt motivates me to change.  When I feel guilt about something, I work to make it right.

Shame motivates me to hide.  When I feel shame, I want to fall away into the darkness.

After reading this and the rest of the post -- which is awesome -- I thought about the things in my life that I am still hiding from and not changing. 

-- My food addiction / appearance issues

That is the major one..... of course I can think of many, many more.  But that is the one I know is holding me back right now.

I also know the only way to shed the shame is to talk about it and putting it out there on the internet on an anonymous blog, doesn't count.  You have to say it out loud to people who know you. 

It's interesting to me that I am willing to go to a Sexaholics Anonymous meeting and talk about sex, masturbation, lust, pornography, etc., but I am too ashamed to say: I also have a food addiction.  The years I wasn't acting out sexually, I was acting out with food.  Sure, I've told some people about seeing a nutritional therapist.  But for whatever reason, there is still a large layer of shame around this food / appearance / body image issues.  I need to figure out how to break it down.

Why do I do this?  Why do I even write on this blog or write at all?  I'm not the poster child for recovery.  I struggle everyday.  Every. Single. Day.

Today's problems in random order:
Sleep:  I can't sleep.  Since surgery I've been trying to get back to some kind of regulated sleep pattern.  The harder I try, the worse it gets.  I'm exhausted.  I've two night of really crummy sleep.  I finally fall asleep around 2 or 3 in the morning and then sleep until 9 or 10, only perpetuating the problem.  Today, I had to get up because of therapy and I'm determined to keep myself up all day, no naps.   But I'm struggling.  I've lost control of my emotions and cry all the time.  Also - I struggle with fantasy in the middle of the night.  It's my go to drug to fall asleep.

M:  M text me last night and wants me to meet him in Cali for the weekend.  I want to go..... but I can't.  It's too triggering.  It's too much like weekends with Steve.  M and I don't have a physical relationship, and he is very safe for me usually.  But with this lack of sleep scenario and it being Cali, my old stomping ground, I can't go.  And I'm pissed about it. 

Money:  For a year now, I've lived on my savings account and a little income from consulting.  That money is running low.  I need to find a job and move on with my life.  I need to move into the next phase of my life.  I think I've keep hold of this position with my old company hoping that things would change I could go back.  That's not going to happen.  And honestly, now that I live in UT, if it did happen and they wanted me back, I wouldn't go.  I want to be here.  So I need to commit to being here and find a job. 

Looking for Work:  I HATE looking for work.  I hate putting myself out there for the possibility of rejection.  I hate it.  I hate the long shot that submitting resumes and applying for jobs is.  I just want to walk into the company I want to work for, demonstrate my skill set, talk to them for a few minutes to decide if I really want to work there and then get a job.  Why can't it be that way?  I want them to romance me and want me.  I just have a hard time with the process.

Food:  I hate food.  I hate eating.  I hate preparing food and planning food to eat.  I hate that it is this thing in my life that I'm struggling with.  It feels overwhelming.  I know I need to eat and because I don't plan well, I just end up eating whatever is around the house.  I know it's not right, but it's just this thing in my life that I'm struggling with.  I hate it.  I'm  hungry all the time and I'm scared to eat because I never eat the right thing.

Friends:  All my friends are back in WA and I miss them desperately. Making new friends is hard.  I don't want to do it.  Everyone has someone.  Everyone but me. 

Trapped:  I've been here before.  This isn't anything new.  I feel like I should be past these cycles already.  There is that word -- should -- I'm never in a good place when I start using that work. 

There is more...... But frankly, listing all the issues only make the issues bigger.  I get to a certain point where even listening to my own crap just bores me.  Blah blah blah, whine whine whine whine.  Stop it all ready.  Put on your big girl pants and do something about it.

So here is the plan:
Now - Make my bed, Start the laundry, Clean the Bathroom, Take a shower and get dressed
Next - Get something to eat including a large diet coke for the caffeine
Last - Go to the store:  food and Melatonin tablets

If anything else happens today -- then I'm awesome.  But right now these things have to happen.

Lonely

It wasn't until I started making comments to the newscaster tonight, that I realized what was going on.

I'm lonely.

It started over the weekend.  I went to an SA retreat and was jealous of all the couples I saw there.  Yes, their lives are probably not great at the moment and some of them looked to be really struggling, but they had someone to struggle with.  At least that is what I was telling myself. 

Last night I attended an SA meeting and went to dinner afterwards with a great friend.  I loved having someone to bounce ideas off of, to talk about addiction and life and family with.  We sat for a few hours with easy conversation.  We were interrupted by a text from his girlfriend.  It's good, I don't want to date him or anything similar.... I was just jealous of the relationship.

Today, my BFF M from Seattle had a 4 hour lay over in SLC.  He called and I picked him up from the airport for lunch.  I miss him.  I miss the easy conversation, the natural relationship, the fun, the laughing, the jokes.  Again, I don't want to date him.... I just miss the friendship.

Tonight, I made really great food for dinner.  Grilled chicken, saffron rice and this great avocado, tomato, lime dressing thing.  Trust me, it was fantastic!  And you'll have to trust me since there was no one to call and share it with. 

I made bread and had no one to tell me how awesome it smelled. 

I worked on my therapy homework and when it got overwhelming I didn't have someone to hold my hand for a few minutes and remind me that it is all the past.

I'm ready to not be alone anymore. 

But not for all of the reasons I've had in the past.  Not because I need validation or love.  Not because I'm tired of making decisions alone.  Not because I need someone to take care of me.  I find validation when I need it now.  I make decisions and don't run away from them.  I take care of myself and do the things I need to do to be happy and stay connected to Heavenly Father. 

No, I want something different than what I have ever wanted before.  I want to share my life and share in someone else's.  I want to be seen and appreciated and valued.  I want to see someone else and appreciate them and value the contribution they make to the world.  

And it would help if he liked science fiction as much as I do.  But if not, I'm sure we could still work it out. 

Advocate

When I first began recovery, I struggled.  I've always felt like a spiritual person.  I had, what felt to me, like a strong relationship with my Higher Power, whom I call my Heavenly Father.  I knew about prayer, the Holy Ghost, personal revelation, and seeking the God's will for my life.  These were not foreign concepts for me as they are for some.  But I still struggled to stay sober, struggled to reconcile my 'spirituality' with what felt like an evil, addictive dark side.  The question, which part of me is real?, haunted me for months. 

One Friday morning, resentful and angry, I sat in an SA meeting.  I noticed a few men talking about the temple before the meeting.  I knew by their discussion that they were members of my same faith.  One of them, still not sure of his name, shared during the meeting about his spiritual transformation.  He talked about how he had always viewed God as the great punisher, how his relationship with God had always been more of an adversarial relationship.  His prayers were always long apologizes about what he wasn't doing right, wasn't doing enough of, or just plain wasn't doing.  He never felt he could ask for help when he wasn't even doing all that God had asked him to do.  His sponsor helped him shift his paradigm about this relationship.  He looked to God now as more of a coach.  "We are on the same side" he explained, "and both want me to be better". 

The nature of my relationship with my Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ, changed that day.  It didn't happen over night or all at once.  I started saying things in my prayers like: I know we're on the same side and I know thou wants me to be better at this, but I need help.  And when I prayed, it wasn't a laundry list of all the things I wasn't doing anymore, it slowly became a coaching session of ways to be more effective, ways to be of service, ways to take care of myself and ways do His will.  I prayed for help and was confident help would come.

One particularly rough day a few months later, I knelt at the side of my bed to say my evening prayers.  I desperately wanted to stay sober, but felt overwhelmed with the sadness of my father's illness, the struggles with my family and the chaos at work.  I recited the words to a hymn over and over during my prayers and reminded my Heavenly Father, that He promised to help me "In every condition, in sickness, in health, in poverty's vail or abounding in wealth, at home or abroad, on the land or the sea," and that "as thy days may demand, so thy succor shall be."  I clearly remember the feeling of peace that came into my heart and words in my mind "I got this tonight, I promise.  Get some sleep."  I slept long and sound that night. 

Today, rather than my adversary, the Lord has become my advocate.  From the dictionary:  Advocate:  One that supports or promotes the interests of another.  I love this scripture: "Behold, and hearken... saith the Lord your God, even Jesus Christ, your advocate, who knoweth the weakness of man and how to succor them who are tempted." (Doctrine and Covenants 62:1) 

He is my advocate even knowing my weakness.  He is my advocate and knows how to coach me and nurture me who is tempted all the time in addiction.  I don't have to be perfect to ask Him for anything.  I wouldn't need a coach or an advocate if I was perfect. 

And this scripture:  "Listen to him who is the advocate with the Father, who is pleading your cause before him -- Saying: Father, behold the sufferings and death of him who did no sin, in whom thou wast well pleased; behold the blood of thy Son which was shed, the blood of him whom thou gavest that thyself might be glorified; Wherefore, Father, spare these my brethren and sisters who believe on my name, that they may come unto me and have everlasting life."  (Doctrine and Covenants 45: 3-5)

Many call addiction a spiritual disease, a great spiritual misconnection, and say they were trying to fill their God-hole with sex or alcohol or drugs or food or whatever was their choice.  I get that.  Until I started to understand the true nature of God and my true relationship with Him, I would do anything to feel better.  And as that relationship has changed and increased, the hole has been filled.  I don't feel the desire to act out the way that I used to.  I'm not perfect, nor do I always think straight about it, but my true desire for addiction or acting out behaviors is gone.  In fact, it makes me sick sometimes to think of the things I have done in the past. 

I have seen so many abandon their faith, their God, their religion searching for a "God of their understanding" as the Big Book of AA and the White Book of SA encourage people to do.  But rather than throw the baby out with the bathwater, why not examine the paradigm in which you have been approaching the God you have now?  Could a relationship shift or paradigm shift help you see the true nature of that God.  If you haven't been successful at relationships with others, why do you think you've been successful in your relationship with God?  It makes me sad to watch so many turn from a faith and Heavenly Father who could really help them, who wants to help them, who is advocating for them everyday. 

Tired

What they don't warn you about in surgery is how easily you tire afterwards.  I have to take a nap after I take a shower.  Seriously, it's that bad. 

I'm supposed to walk 3/4 mile everyday this week.  I got on the elliptical machine this morning and felt pretty stable at 3/4 mile - so I just finished the mile.  Getting off the machine was hard because my leg was shaking so bad.  I pushed it too far.  Even now, two hours later, I'm still sweating and leg and hands are shaky.

The problem is I don't want to nap anymore.  I want to work, to clean, to create, to reclaim my life.  I don't want to take pain meds (I'm not in pain) that cause me to feel unfocused and cloudy.  I'm tired of being tired.  I'm tired of resting.  I want my energy back!

Surgery

It's over.  Let the healing begin.

After 16+ years of limping and coping with pain in my right hip joint, I had it replaced.  What an adventure it has been.  I made the mistake a few weeks before of watching the surgery on a YouTube video.  I seriously considered cancelling.  I was horrified by what I saw.  The dislocation of the hip, the deep, deep incision, the cutting of muscle and tissue to even find the joint.  Then they take a mini chain-saw to you and cut off your bone, drill into others and then literally hammer these replacements into place.  The whole thing left me sick.  However, the week before surgery, I had two priesthood blessings.  Both which said I would make a quick and full recovery.  I wasn't worried after that.

I had surgery on a Monday morning.  I was nervous, but more just anxious for it to start and be over.   The various doctors and nurses all came and introduced themselves to me.  Questions answered, clothes changed, IV's started, everything came so fast.  They numbed me from about the chest level down and then put me to sleep.  Next thing I remember was the woman taking X-rays of my hip after the surgery.  Then they wheeled me up to the recovery room. 

The first few days were horrible.  They wanted me to walk just a few hours after surgery.  I couldn't even fathom it.  The pain, the medication, the walking, the people, the ice, all seem like a blur.  I remember saying I was hungry, but throwing up everything I ate, I was so sick.  After my stomach and bowels were numb for a long period of time, they didn't want to start again.  It was hard.  The nurses were amazing, the doctor was amazing.  People took really good care of me.  (I just wrote a note of thanks to the staff at the hospital.  Really, they took great care of me.) 

After just three days at the hospital, I discharged to a rehabilitation center for a week.  Again, I had great doctors and nurses who took really great care of me.  It was awesome.  For a week I was able to focus on getting better.  I did physical therapy twice a day and occupational therapy daily.  I was walking by the time I left.  My mom came up almost every day to see me.  My brothers all came to visit as well.  It was good. 

Coming home was good, but hard.  I had to get up and down a lot more and take care of my own needs like ice, water, medication, bathing, food, etc.  It has been good though. 

Here I sit -- almost three weeks since surgery -- and am completely independent.  In fact, today, I wore jeans.  Every day, I claim back a little more of my life.  Today, it was jeans.  My scar is healing and much less swollen.  It doesn't feel like I have a huge bandage on my side anymore.  It's really good. 

I feel really grateful today.  Grateful for the priesthood and the miracles of priesthood blessings.  Grateful for surgeons and doctors who have made such great medical devices like artificial hips.  Grateful for insurance, grateful for family, grateful for healing.  I'm grateful to have this behind me.  I'm grateful for the new beginning in front of me.  My life was always on hold because of my pending surgery.  Now, I can move forward.  And forward I will go!

Beauty

For a long time, I have felt that being overweight made me less worthy of nearly everything in life.  I have also really struggled with feeling pretty or beautiful.  I'm not sure what I can do about it, but I know I want to try to do something, anything. 

My first thought:  What does the Lord say about beauty?

I turned to my scriptures and looked up every verse I could find that had reference to beauty or used the word beautiful.  This is what I found from the Lord:

• Being dressed in the garments of the Holy Priesthood makes you beautiful. (Ex. 28:2)
• Having a ruddy completion is part of a beautiful countenance. (1 Sam. 16:12)
• Beauty comes from being holy, sacred, consecrated, belonging to a divine being.  (1 Chr. 16:29)
• We should sacrifice and take pride in our appearance.  If our body is a temple, it deserves to be taken care of like a temple.  (2 Chr. 3:6)
• The beauty of the Lord referred to many times in the scriptures has to do with the protection and safety the Lord provides, the salvation of the Lord. (Psalms 27:4)
• Zion is referred to as "the perfection of beauty", yet Zion is defined as the pure in heart. Therefore, the perfection of beauty come only from the pure in heart.  (Psalms 50:2)
• The Lord will beautify the meek with salvation.  (Psalms 149:4)
• Aging is part of life.  There is beauty in it.  (Proverbs 20:29)
• Obsession over beauty or worshipping beauty over the Lord is not what the Lord wants from us.  (Proverbs 31:30)
• God will make everything beautiful in His time. To everything there is a season.  (Ecc. 3:11)
• In the last days, the Lord promises burning (defined as branding or slavery) instead of beauty, and says it is a punishment for the worldliness of the daughters of God. Worldly attributes of the daughters of God are described as wanton eyes (carnal mind), earrings, rings, nose jewels, multiple changeable suits of apparel, and He says he will strip the bravery of their tinkling ornaments. (Isaiah 3:24)
• Sharing the gospel and bearing testimony make you beautiful.  (Isaiah 52:7)
• It is not for His appearance that we should desire the Savior.  He has no comeliness and is not pleasing in appearance.  He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.  It is what He was, who He was, what He offered that made men desire Him.  (Isaiah 53:2)
• My home should be a place of beauty since that is where I worship God. (Isaiah 60:13)
• Beware of the hypocrisy of beauty.  We can appear outwardly beautiful but inwardly be full of uncleanness.  Sometimes just the pursuit of beauty does that to us. (Matt. 23:27)
• The beauty of the fruit of eternal life is far more beautiful than anything earthly. (1 Ne. 11:8)
• Beauty is not found in costly, elaborate clothes, but in plain garments and in industry. (D&C 40:42)

Just reading this list makes me feel more beautiful.  Is that weird? There is nothing on this list that says you have to be a certain height or weight.  Nothing refers to the color of your hair or features of your face.  To the Lord, I am beautiful.  I honor my covenants and have dedicated my life to Him.  I bear my testimony and try to do His will.  Do I have things to work on?  For sure.  But don't we all.

I allow many things in life to separate me from God.  I am always feeling there is a certain level of behavior or success I have to attain BEFORE I can be worthy of His acknowledgement, acceptance and love.  That is just not true.  Not now, not ever true. 

Lately, and really throughout most of my life, my negative obsession with my appearance demonstrates an almost borderline worshipping of beauty.  That is not what I want for my life, nor is it what the Lord wants for my life.  When I allow myself to feel shameful and unworthy because I don't feel beautiful, I am worshipping beauty.  Not only that, I find the more critical I am of myself, the more critical I am of others. 

For years I have said to myself.  People only want me for what I am, for what I offer to them, for the help I can provide.  I hated that about my relationships.  I wanted to be desired, lusted after for physical reasons.  I've read those scriptures in Isaiah 53 countless times.  The ones that say "there is no beauty that we should desire him".  Yet - people flocked to Him, never wanted Him to leave.  If not for His beauty - then what?  Because of who he was and what he offered to them.  "To whom should we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life."  I don't offer salvation, nor am I the Savior - but I can relate to those feelings.

I see how the major mistakes I've made in my thinking over the years.  I'm ready to change that.

Co-signing

The last week has been brutal.  During therapy last week, in the last 5 or 6 minutes, we started discussing the negative dialog that goes on in my head.  We started by discussing the anxiety I have about engaging socially.  Casually, my therapist said:  "Why don't you just start paying attention to the negative things you say to yourself and next week we'll discuss ways to combat it."  

And so I did.  And by day four I had three solid pages.
 
You are not pretty.
Your hair is ugly and no amount of product can do anything for it.
I should wear more makeup -- maybe that will help -- but I hate wearing a lot of make up.
Jewelry -- everyone says I should wear jewelry -- but I hate jewelry. That's probably your problem.
Maybe, someday, a man will be able to look past how fat you are and want to be with you.
Being fat makes me unworthy of a relationship.
Why do you even try to lose weight - it never works.
Why do I exercise -- it's painful because I'm overweight.
Don't leave the house, people will look at you and think or say hurtful things.
You should be able to handle this... it's not like you've been raped or anything?
Maybe if you were just nicer, people would like you?
Wait for people to talk to you first, then you know they aren't just pretending to be nice.
Why can't you keep your house clean?
Why don't you use your talents more and serve other people more?
You should be a better daughter and sister.
That was stupid.  Why do you do such stupid things?
Don't eat that.
Why can't I eat the right thing all the time?
Why can't I figure this weight loss thing out?  I'm smart. I should be able to do this.

That was only page one.  As I started noticing these negative thoughts and became aware of them, it got worse.  I don't know that I ever realized the horrific things I say to myself.  The demeaning, demoralizing, downright mean things I say.  The only conclusion I could come to by the end of the week, is that I intensely hate myself.  The pressure I put on myself to be perfect, to say and do the perfect thing all the time to make up for being fat is ridiculous.  And the beratement that comes when I can't live up to being perfect is even more unbelievable. 

The overwhelming fact for me this week, is that I believe these things. I can logically tell myself that they are not true. I can talk myself down from the edge. But yet, reading that list, I feel that they are true.  No matter how much I tell myself they aren't, I feel that they are.

I became so overwhelmed and nearly paralyzed about the whole thing, I scheduled an extra therapy session this week JUST to talk about the list.  As I started reading it to my therapist, I was half crying, half laughing.  I've talked about some pretty graphic, personal, detailed things about my sex addiction with my therapist -- yet, I had a really difficult time reading this list to him.  I was embarrassed (hence the laughing), yet mortified (crying) at the same time.  It was much harder for me to read this list, than to tell him about my sordid sexual history.

He asked how constant it is -- I had to admit that as we were talking, I was belittling myself internally for scheduling this extra session because I couldn't handle a little negative self-talk.  I even criticize myself about my negative self-talk. 

I walked away with four assignments:
1.  Talk to someone about it (preferably at a meeting). 
2.  Continue to write it all down to get it out of your head.
3.  Come up with a general purpose affirmation you can say to yourself to stop it.
4.  Return and report next week.

I went to an extra SA meeting tonight.  Trying, unsuccessfully, to hold in my emotions, I finally talked about it the last few minutes of the meeting.  I was approached by three men after the meeting, all thanking me for being so honest and willing to talk about their own issues with the same thing.  One of them shared what he says to himself:  "I'm not willing to co-sign on that bullshit." 

How perfect is that?  When I allow myself to talk to myself that way, I'm co-signing the bullshit.  Because, all of those things that I believe are shit.  They aren't real or right or true!  Somehow, sometime, I'm going to believe that.  Until then though.... I'm just going to keep saying it.  I will not co-sign on those thoughts. 

My secret

The problem with acting out in secret for so many years is that you also have to do recovery in secret.  And so recovery sometimes feels just as isolating as addiction did.  Though in very different ways.

Sitting at recovery meetings I listen to people talk about the support they get from their families or partners for their recovery.  I'm jealous sometimes.  Ok, I'm jealous most of the time.  Why can't my family be loving, accepting, and supportive?  I fantasize about telling them sometimes.  But ultimately, I know I won't.  It's not safe.  But I hate lying to my family.  I hate making up excuses for going to meetings.  I hate lying about how I know certain people and how important it is for me to talk to them. 

Yet -- I also know many people in recovery that have had bad experiences with family knowing about their addiction.  I'm sure neither situation is perfect.

As I write this, I realize I'm lonely.  What I'm craving is companionship and partnership.  I'm craving a relationship.  I talked with my two closest friends from Washington last night and miss them desperately.  Part of me really wants to start over and find friends.  But part of me is still in Washington.  I can't wait until November when I get to spend a whole week with M.  I'll hate him by the end of the week, I'm sure of it, but the time will be awesome.  I want to sit in my therapists office and not Skype with him. 

I went from this wonderfully, supportive, honest environment in Washington to one here where I still have a secret.  In WA, the secret was easy to hold and easy to deal with.  Here, it stares me in the face everyday and I have to lie about it.  I don't like it.  I don't like it at all. 

Sobriety

In SA, we talk about it being a "one day at a time" program, but we do celebrate certain milestones.  Today is one of my milestones -- 9 months of sobriety. 

Last date I had phone sex:  December 14, 2010

Last date I acted out with a man:  April 13, 2011

Stated the SA program and therapy:  July 15, 2011

Last date I masturbated:  December 1, 2012

Sobriety date:  December 2, 2012

Today:  9 months sober

I have to say I'm pretty damn proud of myself.  Seriously.  I can't think of the last time in my life I went 9 months without masturbating, probably close to 20 years. 

Early on in sobriety, I had to divide my day up in time periods.  I would say to myself, I'm going to stay sober for the next 12 hours.  I would pray and tell Heavenly Father my plan for the next 12 hours and ask, no beg for His help.  Help always came.

Today, I recognize the fragility of my sobriety.  I can be acting out in less than 5 minutes.  I know exactly where to go and how to make it happen.  A few weeks ago, I had a really difficult few days.  Before sobriety, I would have said things to myself like: "I want to act out", "I want to numb my feelings", "I want to escape".  Yet, this time, I found myself saying -- "Just take a little bit of time to cry and feel what is going on, it will pass eventually".  And it did.  And I stayed sober.  I didn't want to act out, I didn't want to escape it.  I didn't want it to pass without partaking.  I wanted to be present in my life and feel what was going on.  It was glorious.

Being present has been one of the biggest gifts of sobriety.  I'm living my life. I'm not watching it happen, or avoiding it, or criticizing it as it goes along.  I'm living it.  I feel more authentic and present than I have ever been.  The other major gift of sobriety has been the ability to express and receive love.  I'm learning to truly accept love into my life and allow myself to feel loved and wanted.  It's amazing! 

One of my major goals for 2013 is to live the entire year sober.  Four more months and I will have accomplished that goal.  I am confident in my ability to make that a reality, with the continued help of my Heavenly Father and Savior.

Single

Today, I don't want to be single. 

I know, I know, I feel that way a lot, as most single women probably do.  But today it's a different.  For the last year or so, I've been diligently trying to seek and accept God's will in my life.  Right now, that includes being single and childless.  I recognize that any relationship that could have formed earlier in my life would have been addictive and dysfunctional.  If I had children earlier in my life, there would have been some other dysfunction there as well.  I get that.  And so for the last two years, since I've been in recovery, I've been trying to live in reality and accept that I'm single and not try and fantasize my way out of my life and into another one.

Two nights ago, I spent the evening with 3 couples playing games.  It was fun.  Really, I had a good time.  But as the night progressed, I found myself feeling more and more lonely.  They each had inside jokes, used intimate knowledge to play as a team and special victory hand slaps and sayings.  The longer the game went, the more alone I felt.  It didn't have anything to do with them.  They were fun, nice, considerate and including of me, the only single at the event. 

It had everything to do with me and where I'm at in my own reality.  I'm done being alone.  I'm not scared or sharing myself or my life with someone else.  I'm ready to share my life and share in someone else's life.  I'm ready to build a life together with someone else.  I'm ready to be known and know someone else.  I'm ready to embrace who I am, trust myself and my instincts and be different.  I wish I could adequately describe how I feel. 

The first time my therapist suggested dating, I lost it.  Seriously, I was so anxious and so scared about it that even just talking about it got me all worked up.  The last time I acted out was after such a discussion where he suggested I start practicing dating by getting dressed up and attending events with some of my friends.  I got so worked up and felt so stupid about it, I acted out rather than constructively take care of my feelings. 

As I watched these couples on Saturday night and again at church yesterday, I could feel a change taking root in my heart.  I am someone who makes myself happy.  I am someone who can take care of her own needs and is starting to really embrace herself and her life.  Now I will find someone with whom we can be happy together as well. 

Celestial Experience

A conversation I was part of last night really sparked my need to document some thoughts I’ve been having. 

The question was posed last night:  Do you really think this pain and suffering of addiction is part of God’s plan for your life? 

The man I was talking with is new to recovery, a few months in I think.  He’s been ex-communicated from the church and is facing the reality of losing his wife to divorce.  We were talking after attending an SA meeting last night.  My heart goes out to him. He’s facing a difficult situation and has a long way to go before it’s over. 

I stumbled a bit last night in answering that question.  Am I better because of my addiction? Yes. Have I learned more about life because of my addiction? Yes. Am I closer to God, closer to Christ, have more patience and empathy for other people? Yes, yes and Yes.  So do I feel that this was God’s plan for me to have this horrible addiction, to hurt others and be hurt, to violate covenants and allow myself to be used and abused?  I wanted to say yes last night.  I wanted to say that this is God’s plan.  That is how I felt instinctively.

But today, I think and feel differently. 

I believe I lived with my Heavenly Father before I came to earth.  It was there that I started to learn and grow.  I’m sure I learned some things faster than others and had gaps in my knowledge and experience that only my Father could see.  Being an all-knowing God himself, He understood more than I did.  His vision and experience were greater than mine.  I believe all of us that have ever lived on the earth were there and that we talked and learned from each other as well.  We learned how to filter and evaluate information as it was presented to us.  We had agency and choice there, just as we do here.  And I believe there were differing opinions and thoughts there, just like here.  There were things, though, that I couldn’t learn.  For those things, it was essential that I have a body to learn “that there is an opposition in all things” (2 Nephi 2:11). 

Coming to this world to gain a body and live out of the presence of my Heavenly Father was a choice I made.  I don’t think I came naively believing that it would be easy.  I don’t think any of us did.  There were sure to be warnings and information about what life on earth would be like.  I’ve heard many theories about how and why we end up with the particular challenges and trials we do.  Some believe we chose every single one of them, from the circumstances of our birth to the person we marry, to our children and even our callings.  I’ve never been able to buy into that theory.  I can’t imagine we sat in a big room and Heavenly Father said, “Who would like to volunteer to lose a child at birth?” or “Who is going to choose to be born into poverty?” or this one “Who would like to volunteer to be sexually abused as a child, raped, and then brutally murdered?”  No one would do that.

As a child, my dad would sit me down every month and have a Personal Priesthood Interview or PPI.  He would ask me questions about life, school, church, and our family.  As I grew older, I came to hate those interviews.  But now that he’s gone, I miss them more than I can express. 

What I can imagine is my Heavenly Father requesting a PPI with me prior to coming to earth.  Maybe it was close to my time, or maybe it was thousands of years before.  Maybe we had regular interviews where he asked me about my life, friends, learning, testimony, concerns and thoughts.  As it came closer to my time to come to earth, Father asked me if I was ready.  I probably hugged him and said no.  He asked if I was willing to do whatever it took to get back to Him.  I told Him I was.  I signed up the Celestial Experience.  Knowing me better than I knew myself, having a broader, wider vision, experience, and understanding than me, he designed a unique experience for me here on earth.  There were things I needed to learn, people I needed to meet, experiences I needed to have, and challenges I needed to overcome in order to return to Him and be like Him.

Do I believe addiction was part of that from the beginning?  Maybe.  But maybe not.  I think all challenges, temptations, struggles, losses, and even our joys are designed to drive us to our Heavenly Father.  Maybe there were times along the way that I could have gotten off the addiction highway earlier.  Who knows?  But what I do know, is that wherever I find that off-ramp from addiction, or hate, envy, strife, selfishness, resentment, or any of the many defects I have, He is there waiting for me.  Missing one or two opportunities ultimately doesn’t matter.  He will always provide another one waiting for me up ahead.  It is the actual act of getting off and then staying off that count.

In the process are we going to hurt other people?  Unfortunately, yes.  And I think it pains our Heavenly Father to see it happen.  I don’t believe it is His will that we hurt or injure one another.  But that is why the Atonement was provided.  It not only provides the off-ramps for those of us struggling with addiction, it provides repair shops for those that get hit and knocked around due to no fault of their own.  It provides healing to those who were victims of our addictions.  By tapping into the power and grace that our Savior provides through the Atonement, they can find the peace they need as well. 

Speaking of the Atonement, Elder Boyd K. Packer said:  “He by choice accepted the penalty in behalf of all mankind for the sum total of all wickedness and depravity; for brutality, immorality, perversion, and corruption; for addiction; for the killings and torture and terror – for all of it that ever had been or all that ever would be enacted upon this earth.  In so choosing He faced the awesome power of the evil one, who was not confined to flesh nor subject to mortal pain.  That was Gethsemane!”  (“Who is Jesus Christ?”, Ensign, March 2008, pg. 15)

There is no doubt in my mind now that “there shall be no other name given nor any other way nor means whereby salvation can come unto the children of men, only in and through the name of Christ, the Lord Ominpotent” (Mosiah 3:17).  It took an addiction, causing personal pain, anguish, grief and loss to get here.  I know there were others hurt in the process along the way and it saddens me that I was the cause of others pain.  But it also makes me more grateful than ever that the Atonement offers all of us what we need to heal and become better people. 

Transfer of Faith

Since my move to Utah, I've been attending ARP meetings.  These are addiction recovery meetings sponsored by the LDS church, my church.  I don't like them, I admit that.  I'm used to SA meetings, where people are incredibly rigorously honest, where sobriety is stated by each member and is the goal of the program, and where the leaders are also people who are struggling with real addiction.  I keep attending, because I want to give back to 12-step programs in all their variety. 

I've been working through the workbook for this program.  Though the 12-steps are essentially the same, there are some key differences.  Also -- there are great readings and questions to answer about the steps and your own testimony.  I read one of them today:

"Many of us tried to get out of our addictions through sheer willpower or through having faith in a friend or therapist.  Sooner or later we found that our faith in ourselves or others did not enable us to overcome our addictions fully.  Write about your feelings today of being humble and willing to turn to Christ and His gospel above all other sources of help in your recovery efforts."

Resentment filled me as I read that question.  I do have faith in my therapist, Dr. C.  I have faith in him because I know the Lord put him in my life.  He helped me find him and confirmed to me spiritually, that my therapist would help me out of addiction.  It's hard to believe that I've been seeing him for two years now.

I've had incredible spiritual experiences since beginning therapy and recovery.  They have been an incredible strength to me.  It is only through the grace of God, and through the "bounteous mercy and love of Jesus Christ" that I have made it this far.  Yet -- if reading this filled me with resentment, I know it is because there is some truth to it.  

I hear of people who believe that reading the Book of Mormon more will help them work through their depression, or marital issues, or suicidal thoughts, or addictions.  I believe Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are all-knowing.  I have no doubt of that whatsoever.  Yet, with as much as I've read the Book of Mormon, prayed, attended the temple, served others, and sacrificed for the Lord, I couldn't pull myself out of addiction.  I could have never done that without my therapist and without the SA program. 

He had knowledge I didn't.  He was able to point me in the direction I needed to find the knowledge and strength to overcome the addictions and struggles in my life.  Without him, there would have been no recovery.

Yet - I also know, without the Savior, there would be no recovery.  Dr. C doesn't take the place of the Savior.  He can't forgive me, affirm me, or provide the spirit for comfort or strength. He doesn't provide people in my life to support me, or people in my life that I can support.  He doesn't see the master plan or the big picture for my life here on earth.  Only the Savior can do those things.  I get that. I understand the difference here.

But I wonder if it is time to transfer more of the faith I have in Dr. C over to the Savior.  I wonder if it is time to start using that relationship - the one I have been building with the Savior -- as my primary support instead of my secondary?  I wonder if it is time to use it as the steering wheel and not the spare tire?

I don't wonder..... I know it is time.

The Right Place at The Right Time

The most amazing thing happened tonight.  I was sitting, waiting for the SA meeting to start and in walks my friend, J.  We grew up together and were in the same ward in California for 6 or 7 years.  He gave me a huge hug, sat down next to me and we started catching up.  I saw him last at my dad's funeral about 18 months ago, but before that, it had probably been 10-15 years since I had seen or talked to him. 

When he walked in, he looked like he was walking in with purpose to talk to someone specific.  Since I am new to the meeting, only been a few times, it gave me the impression that he had been to this meeting before and that I was the one maybe "intruding" on his meeting.  Needless to say, I was surprised when he raised his hand when they asked if it was the first time for anyone.  Surprised and panicked.  What was I supposed to say or do or be?  I had come to the meeting with the intention of being really honest about some of the issues I had been struggling with the past week.  Could I still go through with that now?

When the sharing portion of the meeting started, there were long periods of silence between each share.  I was already over-anxious about sharing in front of him, and finally realized if I didn't say something now, I wouldn't.  I led with how shocked and scared I was that my childhood friend was in the room.  And then explained that I also knew that meetings were a waste of time if I wasn't brutally honest about what I was dealing with.  After my share, he put his hand on my knee and said we were good.  He then shared a bit about his experience with addiction.

We went to dinner with a friend of his after the meeting.  It was one of the best experiences I've had recently.  Conversation between the three of us flowed naturally and with ease.  We shared addiction moments, testimony moments, our struggles, our victories and ourselves.  At one point, the friend asked if it was weird for us to sit and talk so openly about these things.  J didn't hesitate with a resounding, "No.  It feels right."  And it did. 

I felt the spirit so many times tonight with so many things that the three of us shared.  I know this was Heavenly Father's hand in our lives.  I stopped believing in coincidence a long time ago.  The fact that J picked this meeting on this particular night isn't random.  The fact that I picked this meeting isn't random either.  He had been thinking about attending this meeting for a long time, but hadn't.  He happens to decide to come after I've moved here.  No coincidence there. 

As part of his share tonight he said that attending meeting with people that he knows, respects and admires is validating to him.  I agree.  Connecting with others and feeling part of something with people you admire and respect is an amazing thing.  Especially when the connection is real, authentic and honest about something as destructive as addiction. 

Not only that, but this is an answer to my prayers as well.  I know I have to start dating and attending single events, but have been petrified to begin.  How could I go somewhere alone and put myself out there with no one on my side?  J gave me a hard time tonight about being involved in activities and invited me to attend his single adult ward.  Now, I can go and have someone to go with.  No coincidence here at all.

"He answers quietly, reaches my reaching, in my Gethsemane, Savior and friend."
These words from the hymn, Where Can I Turn for Peace?, have been running through my head the last two days.  Reaches our reaching.  That is the Savior I know. That is the God I know.  When we put ourselves in the right place, even an addiction meeting, He reaches our reaching with His own answers.  I have seen that in my own life and know that to be true. 

The deep truth

I love this picture.  I want that to be true for my life.

During my last year of college I had a neighbor with an eating problem.  She was so thin the wind would knock her over, literally.  I knew it was more serious than I could imagine when we discovered she was throwing up in containers and storing it in her room until she could throw it away.  I didn't know what to do for her.  A small group of us would take her out to eat with us and then find excuses not to get home for a few hours, hoping she would digest some of the food and give her some nourishment.  If I knew a friend was suffering from an eating disorder of that magnitude now, I would talk to her and find help for her.  But then, I didn't know what to do. 

I would hear her talk about how fat she was.  Then, I was a size 18.  Don't talk to me about fat.  She had no idea what fat was.  I remember thinking about how utterly distorted her view of herself was to think that she was fat.  Fat compared to what... a sheet of paper?  We'll all lose that battle.  I was afraid for her.  Afraid that she would fall and break a bone or die from mal-nourishment.  I didn't have the guts to say anything to her about it and now I don't even remember her name.  But I say a little prayer for her right now -- that she is safe and happy and eating, wherever she is.

For the last 5 days I've been thinking and thinking and thinking about my childhood, experiences, and beliefs about my body, weight, and appearance.  The brief discussion I had with my therapist on Wednesday, set me off for three days of intense triggers, wanting to be lusted after, refusing to look at myself in the mirror, intense self detest and consistent objectification of men and myself.  I even went far enough to reach out to Steve, trying to find someone who would quiet these narratives in my head by lusting after me. 

Trying to boil all my thoughts down and be succinct about the whole thing is difficult. There are so many variables and contributing factors to what I think and where I am.  I've always felt like two people. The first was spiritual and dedicated to the gospel and her Father in Heaven.  She was helpful, kind, brave and strong.  The second was an addict, lusting, needing, wanting, using men to fulfill her own fantasies.  She was selfish, desperate, and vengeful.  Recovery, for me, has always been about merging those two people into one.  It was about finding the authentic self.  And in so very many ways I have done that.  I can be spiritual, dedicated, kind, brave AND an addict who can be selfish and vengeful.  Recovery has been learning what is real and facing the truth about myself.  And, when I'm really honest with myself, I am pretty darn happy with who I am.  I am smart and sometimes a smartass.  I am funny, intelligent, strong, helpful, spiritual and an addict.  I can sometimes be selfish and rude, but I try to apologize and admit when I am wrong.  I struggle with my addiction, but I am staying sober and doing the things I need to do to keep myself in check.  I am artistic, musical and good at many things.  I have moved ahead on this front of merging these two people inside me together and though I still struggle with my perfectionist complex and the pressure to be a perfect addict, I am making progress and feel good about who I am.

Yet -- on some level there are still two people I'm dealing with.  The internal portion of who I am and the external, physical portion of who I am.  I thought my sex addiction was dealing with this, but I'm wondering now if the addiction as just a symptom of this much deeper, larger issue I have with my appearance.  In so many ways, I've faced so many demons the last two years, but somehow I think this next portion of my journey is going to be really tough.

That is because, deep down, when I am truly honest with myself, no matter what people tell me or their actions, I still hear my older sister whispering in my ear:  "People don't like you because you're fat. They may pretend to like you just to be nice, but really, they feel sorry for you because you don't have any friends."   And though I have no animosity towards her, really I don't, I can't stop the words and feelings they invoke. 

Diets

Dieting began early in my life.  My earliest memory is around 9 or 10 I think.  One summer, I had a weekly appointment with someone who would chart my weight and we would talk about eating habits.  I don't remember much more than that.  I remember her office, and I remember the chart.  I weighed 146 lbs., I remember that, too.  I also remember my mom waking me up really early to go on walks with her. 

In junior high school, at age 11, I was traumatized when the PE teacher yelled me weight out for the whole class to hear.  We were all being weighed in as part of our health check.  I was teased mercilessly after that.  None of the girls wanted anything to do with me, nor would they talk to me.  I weighted 199 lbs.  I started binge eating soon afterwards.

My mom started me on WeightWatchers after that.  It must have been January, because my first weigh in was the week of my birthday.  I lost 9.4 lbs that week.  In one week!!  I don't remember why I quit going, probably because of the cost.  We were always poor.

In high school, I was on and off WW until my parents put me on NutraSystem.  I met weekly with a counselor and ate their pre-packaged food.  I don't remember having much, if any, success on the program.  And I detested that I was there.  That is probably where my distain for pre-packaged food comes from. 

Since then I have tried multiple diets.... SouthBeach, WeightWatchers, The Biggest Loser, The Belly Fat Diet, Medi-Fast, SlimFast, HCG, and multiple other ones here and there.  They don't seem to work for me.  And I can't really figure out why.  When I was seeing a nutritional therapist - she verified that on what I am eating, I should be losing weight.  But I'm not.  I can eat anything I want and not gain weight.  I can eat anything I want and not lose weight.  For whatever reason, my body has decided that I need to weigh this much. 

I hate dieting. I hate the word. I hate everything involved in dieting and eating.  Yet - I hate feeling this way.... kind of out of control and frantic about what I'm eating and when.  I hate feeling sluggish and with low energy.  And I don't want to weigh this much.  I don't want to be this big.  So I need to figure this out. 

Protection?

I just finished watching this incredibly cheesy, poorly written romantic comedy with incredibly bad acting.  Yet, at the end I found myself in tears.  Not just a few that dropped from my eyes, but a full on sob. 

During therapy this week we hit on a topic that I hate talking about: Dating.  The discussion left me feeling vulnerable and needy, but most of all scared.  Dating for me has been this experience of extremes.  On one hand I have these men, who are not members of my church, but who couldn't get enough of me... AS, SL, AT.  On the other side is this long line of LDS men who are willing to spend every waking moment with me but unwilling to take it one step further to commit to a relationship.... JG, DP, DE, GF. 

The first day I met DE, I went home, called my mom and told her I met the man I wanted to marry.  I loved him from the beginning.  We were both RA's in the dorms together.  The young 19 year old men flocked to him.  We ate together and worked out together nearly daily.  We made midnight trips to Wendy's for Frosty's.  When the snow got to be too much in the winter, we would drive until there was sunshine.  I loved him with everything that I had.  Yet, our relationship never progressed.  He talked about other girls he was attracted to. We share some of our darkest secrets with each other.  I knew I had found a kindred spirit when he started singing Harry Connick, Jr. songs to me one night.  One of the signatures of our relationship was the late night phone calls.  2-3 times a week, sometimes more, I'd get a 2 or 3 am phone call from him.  He would have some big doctrinal question he wanted to discuss.  We would talk for a few hours and then I would go back to bed.  He got me through that year of college.  I've seen him a handful of times since college.  He came down to California to see one of my band concerts one weekend.  He came down again the month before I left for Seattle.  He drove me around for days and helped me finish off my California bucket list.  That was the last time I saw him.  He desperately wanted me to come to his wedding just over a  year ago, but I couldn't make it happen.  I couldn't watch him get married.

I really felt GF was an answer to prayer.  I was so lonely in California and was desperately trying to pull myself out of depression and addiction, of course I didn't know it was addiction at that point.  He was fresh off a mission and our callings threw us together at church.  He was my kind of handsome, tall, a bit stocky, and slightly shy.  Yet, he had a quiet confidence about him.  We lived about a mile from each other and became inseparable nearly instantly.  For five years, I loved him.  We would cuddle occasionally and blur and cross lines, but nothing ever stuck.  He dropped money on me like crazy.  We had dinner with his parents quite often.  When we danced, which was quite often because of his calling, he would pull me really close, so our bodies were touching, wrap his arms about me and hold me tight.  I still remember the last time we danced..... at his wedding.  That was one of the worst days of my life. 

When my therapist asked why I hate dating, I shared some of these experiences.  I told him that this is what taught me that Mormon men don't want me.  They aren't will to commit to a relationship with me.  When I said some of these things to my therapist, he disagreed.  Thinking about what he said and my experiences, he's probably right.  Maybe these experiences are the consequences of my faulty thinking to begin with?  Maybe they are the results of how I felt about myself.  He thinks my weight problem might just be a protective layer I've built around myself.  That feels true.  But I'm not quite sure what it is I'm trying to protect myself from. 

Support

I wrote this on July 10th: 

It is past one in the morning and I need to go to bed.  Good self-care would dictate I was in bed three hours ago.  But sleeping seems to not be in the cards for me lately.  At least unless I medicate myself. 

I've been in Utah for 10 days now.  Wow, I thought it had been longer.  It's good, really good in some ways.  But really bad in others.

I miss my friends.  I miss having 10 or more people I could call to go to dinner with.  I don't like eating alone.  I have a whole new line-up of restaurants here and no one to go with. 

I miss my support network.  Though I know I could call any of the women from my recovery groups anytime I want or need to, it doesn't feel the same.  I miss seeing them every week.  I miss feeling of their recovery.  I miss hearing about their lives and learning from them. 

I miss my piano students.  I need children in my life.  I've learned that about myself.  I miss them desperately. I miss seeing the progress they make each week.  I miss hugs and kisses from them. I miss the excitement they have when they come visit me.  I miss all of it.

I miss primary.  Sitting still through three hours of church is ridiculously hard!  I haven't attended Relief Society or Sunday School for over four years.  How do people do it each week?  I want to be back in primary or at least back doing something, back serving or back feeling useful. 

I miss the sense of belonging that comes from living in the same area for 5 years.  That is the longest I have ever lived in the same ward my entire life.  I knew the area and felt at home. I can't expect to feel that way in 10 days.  I get that but it doesn't mean that I don't want it.

Today:
It's funny how much different I feel.  I just got back from 6 days in WA. And though, I still very much miss these aspects of my life -- I feel very motivated to move on.  Moving back isn't what I want either.  I realize how stagnant I was there.  I went back and nothing had changed.  I don't want that kind of life where nothing progresses and nothing changes.  I need change.  I need progress, it motivates me.  So let me rephrase:  I went back and nothing had progressed.  I think of all the things I've done in the past month to move my goals and life forward and talk to a lot of friends who have not made any progress at all.  I thrive on progress.  I need it. 

I'm glad to be home.  Home.  I'm glad to be making changes and moving towards things.

Faulty Thinking

He climbed on the train in front of me.  I knew he hadn't ridden the train before because he fumbled buying his ticket.  He wasn't sure which fare to buy and which line to get on.  He asked me where to get off for a certain hotel.  We had a quick conversation as I helped him figure out where he was going and looked up a map on my phone. 

He told me about his plans to find somewhere to go drinking that night, but I am pretty sure he had already started on the plane.  We are both from SoCal and had a fun conversation about drivers and beaches and surfing.  Then he said -- "SoCal misses you!"  Very sweet, I responded.  He started looking at me differently then.  It was the "how far will you go" look.  I'm familiar with it from when I used to meet men from personal ads. I would flirt until I got that look and knew they were hooked.  The look was unsolicited last night and made me very uncomfortable.  Yet - at the same time, it feeds a little bit of lust and ego inside me, the part of me that craves attention from men. 

I didn't allow it to go any further. There was no flirting of any kind. When he said he wanted to do more drinking, I just laughed at him and told him to have fun.  He put his hand on my shoulder on the way out and said thank you and nodded his head like he wanted me to get off.  I just sat there and let it go. 

Incidents like this feed faulty thinking patterns.  Patterns that say - Mormon men don't want you, but men outside the church to -- You're only worthy of broken men, etc.  I need to stop thinking that way and let it go.  I need to realize those patterns are old and only I feed them. Which means, if I stop feeding them, they will stop growing and shrivel up and die.  That is what I want to have happen!

What you build

The lesson in Sunday School yesterday was about adversity.  The instructor, whom I adore, asked the question of the class: "What strategy do you use to overcome adversity?"  Several answers were given and discussion focused around personal conversion.  The instructor told a story about his grandfather.... I don't remember the story but I remember the lesson:  It's not what you bring or receive to a relationship, ward, or employer -- it's what you build that matters.

The concept really hit home to me. I feel like I've spent the last two years focused on what I bring and what others give to me.  I remember, just a few months ago, when my therapist asked me what I wanted in a relationship.  As I reflected on the conversation later, I was kind of sickened by the fact that all my answered revolved around what I wanted him to do for me, and not around what type of person he could be.  That changed the way I looked at relationships and people.

But another shift is still needed and I feel it happening.  What we bring to the table in any kind of relationship is important.  But even more important is what two people are capable of building together. 

My friend, Terri (fake name), has really been bothering me recently.  She's been incredibly needy, giving me gifts nearly everyday, and wanting all my attention.  She's told me how jealous she is of my relationships with other people and how much she wants all of my attention.  She's accused me of emotionally abandoning her and hiding myself from her.  It was a ugly few weeks.  It was weird because it was totally unexpected and I felt out of character for her.  In discussion with my therapist about it, he was able to provide some clarity around the situation.  When we met, we were on very similar emotional planes.  We had similar emotional needs and skills.  However, over the past 18 months, my skill level, wants, needs, and capabilities have increased as I've continued to attend therapy and work on them.  She hasn't.  She went to therapy about 4 times and quit.  The more I thought about it, the more I recognized it was true.

It's not that you can't have relationships with people on different levels than you, you can.  But the relationship is different.  I want a partner relationship.  One where we are coming in on similar ground and are both willing to build together.  We will water our grass and our relationship as equals.  That is the kind of relationship I want.  I want to build something.

Seeing Me

I've been in Utah four weeks today.  Amazing.  Sometimes it feels like yesterday that I drove the truck over.  It really is hard to believe it's been four weeks. 

I've done a lot in those four weeks.  Gone camping twice, attended two family reunions and two soccer games.  I went to Idaho and spent a day with my aunt and uncle and down to my brother's house for family gatherings.  In between all of that, I've unpacked, rearranged the house, tried to break into the recovery scene here and get acquainted with my new ward.  It's definitely been a busy four weeks.

It's also been extremely difficult in some ways.  I've cried myself to sleep a few times out of sheer loneliness.  Attending new SA meetings and trying to build a recovery support group here has been difficult.  I've asked for phone numbers and tried to build time to talk with people, only to be shut down more than once.  The intense pressure I feel around my family to be perfect in every way has been extremely challenging.  Trying to figure out where that pressure comes from is my new therapy assignment.  Being here, watching the struggles and drama play out continuously is also challenging.  The rescuer in me is learning to let go of things.  I dearly miss my friends, students, and ward in Washington. 

But today --- I woke up feeling differently.  I've been praying and studying and working and trying to be strong, to feel secure, to know I'm on the right path.  And today, I woke up with that confirmation.  I sang in the shower, looked myself in the mirror and thought about how beautiful I was. I called my mom and had an incredibly enjoyable afternoon with her. I visited my brother and my nephews and loved them.  I read my scriptures and felt the spirit touch my heart.  I drove around and contemplated how beautiful it is here and I arrived home feeling incredibly strong, secure, safe, confident and right. 

I'm not naïve enough to feel like all my lonely days are going to be gone now. Nor do I believe this will make all my family pressures and issues go away.  I know things will continue to be hard and I will continue to make mistakes and live and grow.  But today, those things don't scare me.  Today, who I am right now, with all my flaws and imperfections, is enough. 

This new stage of my life is not about being a better person.  This stage is about letting myself be seen.  I love who I am.  I love being tall, with my big cute feet. I love having large shoulders. I love my voice and the way I talk. I love that I am tenderhearted and cry easily.  I love that I break for all things chocolate and watch Doctor Who episodes over and over again.  I love my eye for color, my ear for music and my artistic handwriting.  I love that I am bothered by homelessness and the state of education in this country.  I love the scriptures and the temple.  I am anti-abortion, but will always vote pro-life, because I believe in agency and choice.  Singing the National Anthem or watching soldiers come home always makes me cry.  I am really quite amazing. And rather than hide that away, feeling like I don't measure up because I've never been married, I'm ready to live my life, love my life and let that be enough.  Because I am enough and I've always been enough. 

Gateway behaviors

The last two nights I've allowed myself to flirt with disaster.  Stressed out, lonely, upset and in need of help to process my emotions I turned to fantasy, rather than the many recovery friends I have for this very purpose.  I laid in bed and dreamed up a partner. 

Fantasy for me never starts off sexual.  It's never about that to begin with.  It's about needing someone to help me process, hearing another perspective, being able to emotionally work through things.  When I can't find that in person, I just dream it up.  This is how fantasy has always been for me.  Even from junior high days, I remember making people up to talk to.  Imaginary friends if you will.  As an adult though, it gets complicated. 

The last two nights, we've laid in bed together, my fantasy partner and I and discussed everything going on with me.  It all starts real...... conversation about my mom and family, addiction, meetings, adjusting to living here, missing Washington, but then turns unreal..... discussion about wanting children, building a house for our family, his work, our relationship, etc.  Usually at night, it's not sexual.  After pouring out my heart and talking through all my emotions, I'm tired.  We eventually fall asleep. 

The problem is the next morning.  Whenever I fantasize at night, the morning finds me aroused and wound up sexually.  Night fantasy usually ended in morning masturbation episodes.  I found this to be true with men I dated as well.  I could hold out all night as we held each other and kissed and talked.  But if either party stayed the night, by morning I was ready to move things to the next level physically. 

This morning I woke up with those feelings.  I wanted a sexual release.  I allowed myself to fantasize about it for a few minutes, talking to my fantasy partner and even began moving that direction.  Finally, I pulled myself out of it by saying my sobriety date out loud about 20 times.  It pulled me back into reality and gave me the strength to get out of bed. 

I immediately got up, and got to work doing other things.  Finally a few hours later, I sat down here to do my morning recovery routine and write this out.  It's left me feeling vulnerable and exposed.  It's left me feeling raw and a little bit fearful.  Two minutes and I would have been acting out again.  I know what I've done is not acting out but more of middle circle behaviors, similar to gateway drugs.  But I've got to get a handle on this.  I haven't allowed myself to fantasy for a long, long time. 

Truth is I feel very alone right now.  I have a lot to process and no one to really process with.  I need some recovery friends.  Ones I can call up and go to dinner with.  I need to find them.  I don't want to.  But I recognize the need. 

Friends!

I had people over for dinner tonight.  Two couples from my ward came over and we had an awesome time.  I made a new enchilada recipe and salsa from scratch.  Really, it was a great time. 

I'm glad to have people I can have dinner with.  I miss conversation.  I miss people.  The best thing is that these people seem totally normal, healthy even.  They are open and honest and talk about crazy things.  They seem very, very real.  I loved it.  A lot.  My plan is to have people over for dinner every other week.  I want to get to know people in my ward and be part of something.  I don't plan on just sitting back and making people come to me, but want to get out and fellowship and make new friends.  I really liked these people.

One of the couples spoke last Sunday.  The talks focused on obedience.  I really liked what she had to say.  She chooses to be obedient because that is how she expresses her love to her Heavenly Father.  She also says that she does it for the blessings.  She doesn't have faith or believe in the blessings here or in the next life, she DEPENDS on them.  That is true for me.  I don't just believe in the next life or the blessing that will come there.  I depend on them.  I really enjoyed her talk.  I've thought about it all week. 

M comes into town this weekend for about 48 hours.  I'm excited to see him.  It will be nice to spend some time with him.  I miss him and our late night walks and chats.  It will be good to catch up.

Tomorrow I'm going to go to the temple with my mom and then have dinner with my family.  Good times. Saturday, M comes in and we're going to the soccer game.  Then Sunday we're going to spend the day in the car to visit some of his friends.  He'll stay one more night and then fly home Monday.  It will be a good weekend. 

I'm grateful for friends.  I'm grateful for the people I have in my life, new and old. 

I Want to be Angry

I'm having a food moment.  Everything sounds good and everything looks good.  Although I had a good dinner, I want to eat everything in sight.  It hit while I was at the store this evening as the cookies in the bakery starting calling my name.  I know it's bad when that happens; those cookies aren't even good.  Driving home, I noticed every restaurant and convenience store.  Resigned that I wasn't going to stop for food, my next thought was just ice cream, or even just a drink.  There were two 7-11s on the way home.  Just a Coke, I kept telling myself. 

The fact that I made it home with one Kit-Kat bar and some needed fruit and groceries is not a miracle, it's just evidence of all the work I've been doing and how far along I am in my recovery. 

This moment started much earlier today.  I didn't sleep well, but had morning commitments.  After my phone meeting, conversation with my sponsee, and an hour worth of work, I went back to bed to try and get some shut eye.  I finally got out of bed just around noon. 

Next, my kindle reminded me that I am ovulating.  Yes, I set up alarms to remind me of this wonderful fact.  For me, ovulation is crazy.  It literally feels like my body is screaming at me "STICK SOMETHING IN ME AND GET ME PREGNANT ALREADY!"  During addiction, I loved this time of the month.  My libido was in overdrive and my body was sensitive to the lightest touch.  Orgasms were plentiful and easily achieved.  Let me re-phrase that because even though the addiction is past tense, the physical sensations are not.  During this time of the month, my libido is in hyper drive, my body is sensitive to the slightest touch, and even wiping after using the toilet has to be done with care.  OK - maybe that was too graphic.  But that is how I feel today -- GRAPHIC! 

I struggled to pick something to wear, talking out loud to myself the whole time about how sexually wound up I was and how bitter I was about not having children.  Because ultimately, as I get older, this wonderful monthly reminder that I'm ovulating counts down my fertility. 

All afternoon, I struggled between working and unpacking.  I'm having new friends over on Thursday night and want my house to be a little more organized than it is.  I couldn't seem to focus on either very well. 

Finally, I went to an ARP meeting tonight.  I didn't want to go.  I had no desire to be there. I didn't want to talk about what I was feeling or my frustration or really hear about anyone else or their problems either.  I was in that dark hole I call self-absorption.  What I'm dealing with seems so big that I can't see out of it enough to be present with anyone else in their struggle.  I did share about some of the things I'm facing but nothing too personal.  I don't know what it is about those meetings that rub me the wrong way, but it does.  I hate it when they say to me with this super sappy sweet voice, "I'm so glad you came tonight. Keep coming back."  It feels patronizing.  It feels judgmental.  I know it's my own issue -- but it's how I feel.   The missionary who leads the group bothers me to no end!  She is super dramatic and calls everyone sweetie and hun.  She thinks she can relate to every individual at the meeting.  She tells unbelievable stories and is out of control.  It bothers me. 

Everything bothers me tonight.  I know it is my issue.  I know it is my pride and my ego.  Though I'm struggling to let it go.  I want to be bitter and angry.  I want to be upset.  I want to feel frustrated and better than everyone else.  Why do I want to hold onto these feelings?  Why?  What am I getting from the feelings?  What are they doing to serve me? 

I don't even want to analyze them tonight.  I just want to be bitter and angry for another few hours before I surrender.  I know it's not going to help the situation, but that is where I am tonight.