The Wrong Audience

One of the most unfortunate things about waking up with your toddler in the middle of the night? When you're awake just long enough that your brain turns back on and you have trouble turning it back off. Well, I process things best when being able to talk about them, but when the opportunity isn't ripe for such a thing (such as everyone being asleep or the setting for a vulnerable conversation isn't quite right)... my go to second option is writing, so here I am. Though I'm not necessarily going to broach what's on my mind right now, this is what struck me to write about for now.

I think one of the worst questions I have ever asked myself was who my audience was when writing journal entries. It was early in middle school when I first started writing in a journal that I decided that my audience was likely my future children or grandchildren. Which to some extent is helpful I think because it gave me some purpose for journal writing, or atleast I thought it did. I felt like it gave me a sense of purpose in the sense that perhaps I could help someone even after I died on the off chance that my progenitors had similar life experiences and could learn or find comfort in the ups and downs of my experiences.

However, what I have found is that it sometimes makes it very difficult for me to journal. I find myself feeling self conscious, not wanting to share things that I find very personal, not sure if I want them recorded in history, not sure if I want someone seeing how utterly dumb and anxiety-ridden my thoughts can be. Which I know is somewhat dumb since I acknowledge that to some extent sharing those things might be the very reason someone might connect with me through reading my journal and potentially find comfort in it. But I tend to think of people's experiences being more akin to my husband's reactions when he reads the whiney thoughts of characters in fiction novels. Annoyed disrespect and impatience. Good thing he loves me and can put up with my anxiety-ridden thoughts when I end up sharing them ;)

Which is why I started my "burn journal" as I like to call it. It's a separate journal for writing all my thoughts and feelings when I need help processing. I write in it with no audience in mind except God on occasion, or myself. And it's not a book meant to last like my usual leather bound journals so I can burn it one day if I so choose ;) The problem becomes that sometimes I need those journaling moments most during the day and my kids seem to hate when I attempt to read or write. My daughter even comes over and starts shutting the journal on me saying "all done!" Some days I have to insist because getting the feelings out can make it easier for me to be a better, more patient mommy, which is better for everyone ;) But it can be easy to forget to take that needed time for myself even when it would be better for everyone involved if I did so.

I heard someone say recently that they believed people who struggle with addiction sometimes have a somewhat addictive personality. In that they are more likely to engage in several addictive behaviors even outside of their identified addiction. And boy did that strike me! I can't nor will I be able to explain in this forum but suffice it to say.. I think sometimes I behave that way when it comes to my interactions with people. I feel somewhat stuck in some sense as to how I tend to communicate with people. It's a formula that doesn't always work very well and can be awkward at times. But I seem to experience a sense of need for it.. and it's hard for me to accept an alternative.  Sometimes writing is the best poopy alternative I can find. Anyway, like I said, I really can't explain it here.. that is just one of the reasons why that statement struck me!

Anyway.. here's hoping I can get back to sleep now!

Conversion

I have often considered the examples of Laman and Lemuel in the Book of Mormon as some of the most human, and relatable characters in the book. As a kid I thought about them just like everybody else did... they were dumb, they were argumentative, they were violent, they were disobedient, they lacked faith, they were wicked, whatever adjective suits your fancy. But I had a lesson one time, that finally changed my perspective. Someone stopped to describe them in a different light. One of the biggest problems listed against Laman and Lemuel is that they murmur constantly, right? But let's be honest, how many of us wouldn't murmur about some of the trials they faced were we in their shoes? How many of us haven't murmured when being faced with our own trials. Even when we have been flocked with amazing blessings on the left and on the right, we often seem to concentrate most on what is hard. So, can any of us really fault them for murmuring? How many of us have never rebelled? 

And then you think... but they saw an ANGEL! And still were not able to believe? I think that's wrong. I think they knew, without a doubt. They had absolute certainty there was a God. There was not a single doubt in their mind to that effect. Someone related it once to the parable of the ten virgins. If the lamp is a testimony, and the oil is conversion... Well, someone can give you a lamp. We can rely on the testimonies of our parents or our friends. We can see angels, and mighty miracles. We can know of a certainty that there is a God, that His gospel contains the most truths we can find on this earth. But there is a difference between knowing God exists, knowing His gospel is true, and being converted. And nobody can give you conversion. And what use is the testimony without that conversion?  It is the oil that gives the lamp it's intended function. Not having that oil certainly does not mean that our lives cannot have purpose. It only means that they cannot have the purpose God intended.

What is conversion then? Google tells us that it means to "cause to change in form, character, or function." So, the issue then, is not that Laman and Lemuel did not have a testimony. The issue is that they did not allow that testimony to change them, to affect their purpose in life, to affect their character. Reminds me of the original witnesses of the Book of Mormon. Many of them fell away from the church, but were quoted saying they could never deny the Book of Mormon. Why could they not deny it, if they knew it existed, knew it contained truth? Because they were unable to let that knowledge change and direct their identity and purpose.

This is something I relate to wholeheartedly. I decided years ago that I knew the gospel was true. I felt that even if I left the church, I would never be able to deny that I knew the gospel was true. And I had to acknowledge that it would be mighty dumb of me to leave if I knew it was true, despite whatever doubts I may have. But whether or not I have experienced true conversion feels like a pickle of a question. The definition helps in this respect, because without it, conversion feels a bit abstract, at least to me! But with the definition, it provides a few questions. Have I allowed my testimony to change me? my character? my function? I would probably say yes to some, but not necessarily all of those questions. And even to those I said yes to... have I done it to my full potential, or even half of it? Probably not. And, have I made those changes out of my own genuine, intrinsic motivation to follow, grow closer to, and become more like God? Or have I merely acted through the motions out of a sense of duty or guilt? I suppose the important distinction there is whether you have allowed the gospel to AFFECT you, your character, your function... or have you allowed it to truly CHANGE you. I would argue that there is a difference.

I think this guy is a fabulous example. In going through the Addiction Recovery Program, he had allowed its principles to affect his life for good. But he realized that he had yet to ask for conversion, for a change in his character. And gosh, I think that takes amazing faith, to feel prepared to be changed, to feel God can change you. I often think it's all on me, I have to make all the changes. And it's hard to conceive that help can be given for that.

These days when I attend the Addiction Recovery Meetings, it has been hard for me to know where my focus is. In some respects I feel like I'm stuck at step 3. And in other respects I feel like I'm stuck at step 4. But then part of me feels like I've done at least most of step 5. But I can't have completed step 5 if I haven't finished step 4. It's a tad confusing. But last night I went through the first 6 steps and watched the videos attached to each step. And while several of them (especially Step 4) struck a chord, what I felt most prompted to act on, was step 6 (the video above). Having a testimony can't be enough. I've always known it wasn't enough. A testimony is what I could do and learn on my own... and now it's about what I can't do on my own.

Normalizing

I have really loved being able to feel like I can write these blogs about depression, anxiety, shame, and my inner struggle with spirituality. I came to the conclusion the other day, that the antidepressants helped a lot with my depression (duh). But therapy is what helped the most when it came to anxiety and shame. And now that I'm mostly back to not seeing my therapist (again)... I have been so appreciative for this blog and the ability to let things out instead of bottling them up. And the ability to talk about it has acted as a way to continue the positive path I've been on regarding shame. The other day, I posted on Facebook about attending the LDS Church's Addiction Recovery Program meetings for the last few months, and it was one of those moments where I sort of shocked myself. I had had absolutely no intention of talking about that on social media (or on my blog for that matter, at least not yet)... but for whatever reason, I felt prompted to do so when reading that particular chapter from the ARP manual (Step 11 in case you were curious). Part of me wonders how much of that decision was because of a spiritual prompting, and how much of it was because it was less scary to do because talking about these sorts of things has made it feel like less of a vulnerable subject (though it certainly still seems pretty vulnerable).

I have a few friends with varying degrees of experience with mental health concerns, and I have so appreciated their posts (and conversations I have had) lately regarding life with mental health issues/addictions. It's a bit like ARP, but with people I actually know! Having the chance to hear other people talking about some of the alterations they have had to make to their life or routine, makes me feel better about having to do some of those things from time to time. Normalization is good. I hope my blog serves the same purpose for others in normalizing. I've been hoping for a way recently that I can be of more service to people instead of feeling like a burden, to switch up my role in relationships more, in that regard. Someone asked me the other day what I do to feel like myself. And my blog is something that I didn't consider at the time, partially I guess because I don't do it every day, but really, it is something that I find extremely fulfilling, and I'm grateful I have. I'm just so much better at expressing myself in writing than I am out loud, and it is certainly cathartic. But I will definitely acknowledge that having conversations face to face can be WAY better, and WAY more fulfilling just because there is something absolutely unique and powerful about connecting to another human being by having a vulnerable or personally intimate conversation. I love that. It's something I crave to some extent. But, sometimes that's out of my control, and that's something I have to get used to. 

So, thank you, to all who have been a part of this journey, especially regarding my most vulnerable truths and fears.. and for treating me the same as you always have, despite whatever changes have occurred in your perception of me. Goodness knows that losing the respect and friendship of those closest to me is one of my greatest fears.