Value

From the experiences I had as a child, as a youth and particularly during my late teens and early twenties, I felt worthless.  I learned that my opinion didn't matter and that no amount of good deeds could earn me friendship from men or women.  I learned I would always be the second choice, left at home if a better offer came along.  Loyal to a fault myself, I would make excuses for them all the time wondering how I could improve my personal package.  Experience taught me that in no way was I pretty enough, talented enough, smart (or ditzy) enough to warrant attention.  Was that real?  Probably not, but the feeling of isolation was.  Whether or not my description is accurate -- that is how I chose to interpret what was going on around me. 

I had to sweeten the deal.  I had to come up with a way to put the odds in my favor.  It started online -- I spent hours in chat rooms honing my flirting skills.  A devout member of the Mormon church, I had no intention of going to far.  I just needed to learn to walk the line a little better.  When, a few months later, one chatter suggested we talk on the phone, I was game.  It was another skill I needed to learn. 

The whole thing began innocent enough -- all tame, get-to-know you conversations full of flirting and innuendo.  When he asked if I had ever masturbated, I wasn't going to lie.  After that, the conversation was a runaway train, destination: phone sex.  I couldn't stop it or control it.  I couldn't even slow it down or say no.  It was going to fast, and it felt good.  I rationalized the whole thing -- it wasn't like we actually had sex or touched each other, right?  Nothing to feel guilty about or repent of.  It was a nightly ritual within days -- thirty minutes of normal "how was your day?" back and forth, followed by an hour of foreplay and phone sex.  I LOVED the first thirty minutes, and tolerated the next hour.  For the first time in my life, I felt wanted. 

I had figured it out.  Within weeks, I had multiple phone partners, a morning and evening regular and a few others that I connected with at random.  When phone sex wasn't enough, I started meeting these men in person.  I was never happier, I told myself.   

My life was never the same after that.  My sexuality was what I turned to when I needed to feel wanted.  But it was never a healthy offering.  It was laced with, at least on my end, with guilt, confusion, manipulation and fantasy.  So many times I remember laying in bed, staring at the ceiling while my latest partner kissed my neck, wanting with everything in me, for it to be over, fighting the tears, holding it together, knowing it wasn't real.  But those long nights became the price I paid for the emotional connectedness I so desperately needed. 

Every encounter damaged my sense of self and value.  Who was this monster living inside of me?  It wasn't congruent with who I thought I was or who I wanted to be.  My isolation grew as my world shattered like a mirror.  I desperately tried to hold all the pieces together, hating the slivered images staring back at me.  I held one boundary the entire time.  I wouldn't have intercourse.  That carried a spiritual consequence for me I wasn't willing to pay.  Phone sex partners didn't care, but those that I met in person would ultimately leave when they found out I was serious.  In the end, everyone left. 

The years came and went with periods of deep, serious addiction followed by desperate periods of white-knuckled sobriety.  The cracks in my mirror never allowed me to be whole in any scenario.  In my addictive life, I played the part of the fun, relaxed girlfriend.  These men loved me, or so they said.  They told me I was pretty, smart and sexy.  I would see multiple men at a time and have phone sex with others as well.  The attention never seemed to be enough to fill the hole inside me.  But there was so much about me they didn't know -- my spirituality, my dedication to my Savior, my loyalty to my family or to the people I served.  In my "real life", I was the rock for my family, the dependable church member who always fulfilled her callings.  I was a dedicated teacher and successful professionally - but my friends and potential partners found me disengaged emotionally.  People, both men and women, claimed I was stand-offish, and too serious all the time. 

A cracked mirror holds no value and always returns a distorted image.  After 10 long years of fractured living, I knew things had to change.  I was desperately depressed and alone. I knew I couldn't sustain both lives and needed to find a way to blend it all together and figure out who I was as a whole person.  It was time to face both the good and evil inside me and make peace.  It's been a long journey.  Next week will mark two years since I entered recovery.  It's been over three years since I had phone sex, over two years since I engaged in any type of sexual chatting or been physically intimate with anyone.  Reigning in the last personal bits of my addiction were more difficult, but even those have yielded. 

My own experiences in finding and identifying my own personal self worth and value has been amazing.  It has produced blessings in my life that I never imagined.  I began recovery for completely selfish reasons and with completely selfish intent.  From the very beginning I told my therapist, sponsor and others that I was doing this for myself and I didn't care about sharing my story, being an example to anyone or helping anyone on their own journey.  It was too much pressure.  I didn't want to worry about letting anyone down if I slipped or fell.  I couldn't handle that.  Recovery was all about me.

However, finding my own value, has allowed me the opportunity to see value in others as well.  I look at people differently now. I interact with them differently. I see things I would have never seen before.  I wonder about the heavy burdens and crosses they carry. I wonder what fractured their mirror and what distorted view is being reflected to them.  I want people to be happy. I want people to know how loved and precious they are.  I find myself constantly wanting to help and reach out to them. 

I've also learned the importance of keeping my mirror whole.  I do that through self-care.  I know I am responsible for meeting my own needs, for tending the dings so they don't become cracks.  I understand the importance of checking the reflection with others to be sure it's not distorted in ways I don't recognize.  When the mirror is whole, the reflection is real and true and I don't always like it.  But I recognize that when I can see clearly, I can also work to fix the things I don't like and improve the reflection. 

My Miracle

It's over.  Tonight I gave my final report to the committee and turned everything in.

Last October, when I was asked to direct this musical production for the youth of my church, I had no idea what I was in for.  The past six months have been some of the most spiritual of my life.  It has been a privilege to spend time with these amazing young men and women and their leaders.  I have enjoyed feeling of their spirit, of their testimony, and of their love for the gospel and for the Savior.  Participation has been a tremendous blessing and a period of time in my life I will never forget. 

It began with the tremendous inspiration I felt as I wrote the script.  I wept for hours as I read, re-read and studied the scriptures.  I drew pictures of the staging images that came into my mind.  I wrote and wrote and re-wrote documents and instructions and pages.  I listed to the music and studied the scores for hours.  The spirit was amazing.

The entire thing from beginning to end was full of miracles.  The day of the kick-off fireside, I woke up feeling sick.  By 11am I was vomiting.  I had to speak that night.  I asked for and received a priesthood blessing.  I was temporarily healed enough to sleep a few hours, gather my thoughts, and speak at the fireside that night.  I got home just barely in time to resume vomiting all night. 

I have story after story from the young men, young women and leaders involved of their experiences with the spirit.  Lives were changed. Testimonies were born and strengthened. 

But the real miracle for me will go untold to others because it is about my sobriety and my relationship with my Heavenly Father. 

I was born to do productions like these -- large choir (over 180 people), full orchestra (37 players), soloists, speakers, actors -- the whole thing.  I have a gift for working with teenagers and for working with large groups.  I always have.  But the productions I have done were during the height of my addiction.  I have always been afraid I would never be able to do these types of things again without falling back into my old patterns of behavior.  I had resigned myself to never teaching again, never leading a band or choir and never being involved in productions of this magnitude.  I figured it was something I had to do to stay sober.  And since my life means nothing without sobriety, I was willing to make that sacrifice. 

But -- that is not the case.  Not only did I make it through sober, but I made it through a better person. I made it through and then some.  There was no crash at the end.  I didn't overwork myself to depletion. I gave up the perfection complex for a more realistic approach. I didn't micromanage my way into a sobriety slip.  But more than that -- I am humbled to know that after all I have done, all the mistakes I have made, the people I've hurt, the issues I've caused and dealt with, Heavenly Father considers me worthy to participate in His work.  I am humbled to have been a part of this experience for the youth.  I know it changed some of their lives -- but it changed my life.  I will never read the Book of Mormon the same again.  Whenever I pictures the Book of Mormon prophets, I will pictures MY boys - my prophets - and say a prayer for them.  And I know, through the atonement of Jesus Christ, I have been forgiven. 

I can still do the things I love and not fall into addiction again. 

That is my miracle.

Claiming Me

Something woke up inside me during a walk this morning. 

The last few months have been so discouraging to me physically.  Despite all my attempts to lose weight, I'm not.  Despite my better eating habits and work on my food addiction, I seem to hover at about the same weight.  After appointments with two specialists, multiple X-rays and additional MRIs nothing can be done about the pain in my hip.  A replacement is my only option, but they all say I need to wait as long as possible before the procedure.  Despite all the work about loving myself, accepting myself, and working at self-care, I felt my only course of action was resignation.  This is my life.  I can't be physically active because it hurts, I can't lose weight because being physically active is painful. I've been discouraged about feeling resigned to not lead the active life I want to live. 

This morning, discouraged, I allowed myself to get sucked into three hours of catching up on TV shows with the DVR.  But then -- I changed my mind.  I got dressed and went on a two mile walk.  After taking some preventative paid meds (OTC stuff, don't worry), I pushed myself through two miles. 

I noticed a distinct change in self-talk. Rather than focus on the pain, I kept telling myself I could do this.  Rather than just suck it up, I found myself experimenting with different foot or body positions  that might lessen the pain, and found some.  I looked around and enjoyed the beautiful spring blooming everywhere.  And I kept pushing forward. 

Rounding the last corner onto my street a voice whispered "Your body is worth fighting for".  The words sunk deep inside me.  I've spent the last two years fighting for my soul.  Facing my fears, my addictions, my mistakes, my misdeeds, the darkness that resides inside me.  And I've won.  I continue to stare it down everyday, every time it rears it's ugly head, I dig deep and find the courage and strength to fight the battle and win again. 

Having a physical body is so important that Satan and his followers resort to possessing animals the bible tells us.  The privilege of having a physical body was something I fought for in the pre-mortal life.  It was so important that Heavenly Father lost 1/3 of his children from the conflict. 

Just as I've worked diligently and relentlessly to reclaim my soul, it is time to claim my body.  I don't say reclaim because I don't know that it was ever mine.  I don't know that I have ever understood its needs, desires, wants,  power, strength, beauty, or its rightful place in my life.  I used it, abused it, and addicted it to a variety of things.  No more.

I will claim my physical body as part of me.  I will learn what it needs, what it likes, how it likes to be dressed, what types of physical activity it likes, how strong it is and how beautiful it is.  I will learn to set boundaries about who can touch it and under what conditions. I will eat things that will make it strong and healthy.  I will push it and find its limits.  I will take care of it.  And eventually I won't talk about it in third person like it is separate from me, but will feel comfortable in my own skin and it will become me, a sacred part of whom I am and  we won't be at war anymore.

It beings -- one day at a time.  Just like my sobriety continues -- one day at a time.  Today is Day 1.