Release

I went back to seeing a therapist in 2016. And geez it is not lost on me how long ago that feels even though it still feels like yesterday. Anyway, a few months in, I started blogging again. I remember talking to my therapist about it and she made a comment about the desire to create being a positive sign. I had been so depressed and apathetic for so long, it really did feel good to get back into writing. It’s something I often think about though. Not writing doesn’t bother me until I start getting anxious. And when I start getting anxious, I start looking for a release like blogging for instance. But when I don’t know what to say, I worry that I’ve slid back into a zone where I’m not able to “create” again. And right now, I really don’t know what to say.

I try really hard not to use my friends for that release because among other reasons, A, when I don’t know what to say, I just overshare.. B, my friends are not therapists and I don’t want to use them as such. It’s not fair to anyone. Anyway, I don’t have a therapist right now, and it’s hard not to feel guilty about the money involved in using one, and the nearest Addiction Recovery Program meeting around here is a bit far. Although I guess I was traveling a similar distance in Idaho/Washington.. it just wasn’t nearly as long of a drive to get there. And of course, there’s something anxiety provoking about attending a new group anyway.

And while I do find blogging cathartic, Its also not the same because while I am fairly open-booked, there are still things I don’t talk about openly online. And feeling the need to edit or revise takes away from some of the raw quality that can be so “releasing.” It’s not the same as opening up to a judgement-free room. Cuz let’s be honest, internet people are often judgy. And there’s something about being in that judgement-free space and just talking out loud face to face with other people. You walk away feeling a little more normal again even if you hardly said anything at all. 

Anyway, this is me. Trying to feel better. Trying to remind others that they’re not alone. Trying to make sense of things. Trying to create. Trying to be me.

A subtle shift

We need to add a new phrase to our vocabulary. We are all familiar with the term "guilt trip." When I was regularly seeing a therapist last year, we talked regularly on the difference between "guilt" and "shame." The main differences she listed were that guilt is righteous chastisement given by God to drive us to change and self-correction. Whereas shame does not drive us to change. Shame is a tool that drives us to hide but not to change. Obviously guilt and shame often find us at the same time, but I do think it's important to remember that they are not the same, come from different sources, and take us in entirely different directions.

I found myself over-thinking last night, one of the things that happens when my anxiety is on the rise as it has been. And the first words that came to mind were that I was guilt-tripping myself. But I did at least stop to wonder if guilt was the right word. Even the phrase "guilt-tripping myself" sounds like a tool of shame. Like a mental weapon of self-harm instead of a physical one. A way to wallow rather than to rise above.

So as awkward as it sounds, can I propose the concept of "shame-tripping" to mirror the idea of "guilt-tripping" ? It's probably superfluous, but I still appreciate the subtle shift in attitude that comes from being able to properly identify what I am experiencing. Is this train of thought going to help me or deter me? Sometimes just acknowledging that this is just a story my mind tends to tell helps me detach from the shame instead of feeling culpable. Sometimes it helps me step back just enough to consider how I can change the narrative to make it a productive one. Obviously this is sometimes harder than it sounds. Once I identify that I'm only feeding the narrative of shame, I tend to experience a circular and nonsensical chain of shame of feeling shame. What a "trip" eh?

Anyway, food for thought.

I Am Not An Addict

So while I’ve written so many times about the Addiction Recovery Program and all the good I think it does in my life, and how much good I think it has the potential to do in the lives of others, I wanted to discuss the one thing I don’t agree with. 

What’s the stereotypical moment everyone can picture about any Addiction Recovery meeting just from watching TV?

“Hi, my name is Jane and I’m an addict”

“Hi, Jane”

This is why the first ten seconds of my turn in the sharing portion of the meeting are always my least favorite. It’s one of the reasons I often don’t want to go even when rationally I can tell myself that if I go I’ll enjoy the meeting. I do not include “and I’m an addict” in my intro. Not that everyone does anyway, but regardless... For more than one reason, I do not, nor have I ever considered myself an addict. And while I won’t make a rigid sweeping statement regarding the future... I do not intend to ever identify myself as such. It’s a moment in the meeting that makes me feel out of place. I mean, if I had to pick one thing to identify as my “addiction” in life, it would be struggling to stick to a budget. I don’t even like shopping that much and yet retail therapy still gives me a release that I crave and guilt trip over afterwards. But is that the reason I go to ARP? No, it’s not.

Among other reasons, I believe in Labelling Theory. And I won’t give myself a label that pretends to define and limit what I am and who I can be. I think that very concept is an affront to the principle of the atonement. Now for those of you who are raising their hands saying woah now... I will clarify that I understand how other people can accept the term “addict” without feeling like it offends the atonement. I’m fully aware it’s just the perspective I’m coming at it from. 

I do think it is amazingly powerful to speak the words out loud “I have a problem” and “I need help.” And even for those who are no longer tempted by the thing that brought them to the meetings, I appreciate being able to say “this is a problem I have had, and I have grown and changed because of it.” And even, “I had a problem, I’ve moved past it, but I am still dealing with the negative after-effects.” 

I guess to me I just think the term “addict” isn’t a necessary distinction that needs to be made unless you want to call us all addicts. Addicts to our “natural man” however uniquely that may present in each of us. Each of us has something we struggle with, something that drags us down, or something that drags others down. We are all imperfect, and each of us has something that if we were to let go of, our lives would be improved. And the ARP meetings are about being in a safe place where everyone can admit that without feeling judged because you feel you are among like peers. But in reality, we ought to be able to feel that way all the time, because none of us are perfect.

That’s life.

Support in Recovery

So I had a flaky moment last week. I felt prompted to go to an Addiction Recovery Meeting and thought I’d try the new one that was started in our area a few months ago that is strictly for women. Well I got there and panicked and left. Oops. So on my way home, still feeling like I was supposed to go, I decided to stop by the meeting in Moscow going on at the same time. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me, but that particular meeting on that day and time is not actually an ARP meeting. Instead, it’s a support meeting for spouses and loved ones of those who struggle with addiction. And I gotta say it was awkward initially. I felt like an intruder listening to secrets that weren’t intended for “my kind.” A wolf amongst the sheep. There was a part of me that wanted to just sit there quietly and pass when it came to sharing time and let them make what assumptions they pleased. But I didn’t really feel comfortable with that either. Part of me was worried if I admitted I was not a spouse, but instead someone who actually attended the Addiction Recovery meeting that they would hate me, for being the same kind of person causing them sadness and grief. 

A bit melodramatic I know, but sometimes the inner voice is a bit melodramatic. I did introduce myself, and while I didn’t say much I did thank them for letting me crash the party. And while I didn’t think I’d be sharing about this, I decided I wanted to do a small spotlight on the group. Hopefully I do it justice.

For one, this group can help such a wider audience than just those who are the loved ones of those suffering addiction. It can help people who have been hurt by a wide variety of issues and people and the manual is great even for couples who have a hard time communicating even if there are no huge underlying issues. One person there brought up that they have found the group useful for them as a victim of abuse as a child and while I hadn’t put it into words just yet I thoroughly agreed with them. 

I totally ran away from the group with a copy of their manual which is different than the ARP meeting’s manual. And while I haven’t finished reading it yet, it’s very focused on personal emotional and spiritual recovery, forgiveness, and honest communication and rebuilding trust. I don’t know why it had never even occurred to me that the spouse group would have a manual.. but it’s a great manual. And who couldn’t benefit from learning about those things? I totally recommend checking out the manual for a good read for personal growth and healing. 

For myself, it was enlightening to experience a window into the thoughts of  “the other side.” But beyond that—Due to my abuse as a kid and subsequent experiences with men through my teenage and adult years, I have a really really hard time being vulnerable and discussing deeply personal things with men, more specifically, my husband. It is way easier to be vulnerable with women. So sitting through a meeting where the subject matter was about how to build your willingness to be vulnerable with someone with whom that feels scary with... hit home very well. I love my husband and perhaps I don’t always communicate that well enough or in the most effective ways and I know I can improve in that area. I want to improve in that area. I also know I’m not alone in that respect. So check out the manual. And if you feel like you need the emotional support of being with like hearted people who have felt hurt or betrayed by someone they love or who are struggling watching their loved one go through the struggle of addiction or compulsive actions.. if you need support while you yourself heal and find relief from despair, I recommend the group.

Click here for the Spouse and Family Support Guide

A Moment In My Head

Anxiety for me is something I have a hard time reconciling. I didn’t used to be half as anxious as I am these days. And I think most of the time I prefer to think of myself as old me and not present me. Talking about it makes me feel almost inauthentic because I don’t want to think of myself that way and because I know so many other people have it worse. And not talking about it feels inauthentic too because no matter how much I try to deny it to myself, it is still something I experience. It’s a concept I’ve struggled with most of my life. I don’t feel allowed to feel what I feel or admit to what I feel because someone else has it worse. I feel ashamed at my “audacity” to feel I have a right to have problems. Talking about things that make me sound like a victim makes me feel vulnerable which I tend to deflect with jokes or sarcasm. Partially because I worry about the reactions of those I’m speaking to and want to give them an “out” from a potentially heavy conversation. I fear being “too much.” And then I hate myself for making light of something I don’t take lightly because I worry I’ve misrepresented myself to people. And once my mind has gotten to thinking about what others are thinking about me, generally people I don’t know very well, then I fixate on it. I can’t stop thinking about it all day to the point that it’s difficult to focus on anything else. And then I shame myself for not being able to let it go, for not being normal, for being anxious. And it’s a short skip and a hop from that point, to sliding into depression. Every once in a while I find someone who is naturally babies me by voicing their thoughts out loud for me to assuage that anxiety so I know exactly where they stand and where I stand with them but I also know that I can’t expect that from people and so I do my best to talk myself down and if nothing else create reasonable doubt in my mind that allows for more than one possibility to be true and not just the worst possible option.

Being in Idaho at the moment, where I don’t know how long I’ll be here would normally encourage me to hide my head in the sand and avoid people at all costs so as not have to deal with it. But I have felt strongly that I need to not live like I’m in limbo right now. And so I’ve been trying to feign bravery and socialize, pretend to myself that I’m in for the long haul so that I’m more focused on the present rather the the what if’s of tomorrow. 

But you know what.. it has spoken to me. I used to hate the concept of people being in our lives only for a season. When I love people I tend to love hard and fast and it’s sad to let go of that. But right now it seems to make sense that a season is better than never. And if I have a role to play, or if I can learn something from someone right now, then I can be grateful to Heavenly Father for allowing and encouraging that “season” and opportunity to take place.

It also makes me glad that I have the children I do. I’m grateful for Abby’s made up song “it’s okay to be sad” because it gives me hope that when my kids grow up, they will do so truly believing that it IS okay to be sad.

"As Sick As Our Secrets"

It’s amazing to me that it’s been a year already. A little more than actually. A year since I disclosed about going to Addiction Recovery Meetings. A year since I disclosed about taking anti depressants. A year since I disclosed about experiencing same-sex attraction. I don’t know why it’s been on my mind of late but I wanted to share some of my thoughts on the “aftermath” of that blog post.

Writing that blog was interesting to me because I had complete peace in doing so when even in hindsight it seems like something I would have been more anxious about. Admittedly I was nervous about the reactions of certain key players but was assured by that sense of peace I had. But I believe that those who love me, love me unconditionally, and love me for who I am. 

What I wanted to comment on was the few unapproving responses that I received. There were some who commented they “hated these kinds of disclosures” and felt it was unnecessary,  didn’t see the point in it. Apparently the blog struck some people as nothing more than weird attention seeking behavior. 

And you know what? What it comes down to, is that the blog wasn’t written for those people, in reality it wasn’t written for anyone. It was written primarily for me. I heard a quote recently, I won’t say where, (cough, a TV show) that hit it right on the money: “We’re all as sick as our secrets.” I have always hated secrets. Not the cute ones like some friend sharing that they like some boy and the make you promise not to tell... but the secrets that weigh on you. Secrets that Satan tries to use to keep you feeling shame. Writing that blog was my way of standing up for myself and refusing to accept that shame. It was cathartic, as this blog often is. And it was also written in hopes that it would help serve that same purpose for someone else. And in that sense, I was successful. 

I will never regret writing that blog. I will never regret that writing that blog created a safe place for more than one friend that disclosed to me afterwards. I will never regret adding to the normalization of the topic. And I will never regret writing for myself on the proverbial wall:

“I will not be shamed.”

And I will keep telling myself that every single day. Every day that I experience anxiety, every day that I feel “less than,” and every day that I feel different, and whenever depression strikes hard... 

I will continue to write on the wall, I will not be shamed.

Ministering

Home. They say home is where the heart is. And that has been an interesting concept for us the last few years. My heart of course spends most of it's time in our physical home, because that's where my children are, where my husband is. But we have both always longed for Texas. And I always miss Texas more in the spring when the bluebonnets are blooming.

When we were in college it was easier because it made sense to be away from home. It was okay because it was temporary because college has an end point. A light at the end of the tunnel. But once we graduated, it all just became a little bit different. Suddenly being away from home was a choice we were making. Idaho felt a bit more like home because I had friends to confide in, people around who I felt loved me. It made a difference. When we moved to Washington it was like I could feel a tangible difference. This was not home. I hoped it would eventually feel a little more like home, but things never really changed.

Even going to church got hard because sometimes it just felt like I was putting myself in a position where I could see the faces of people I was almost friends with but wasn't. I felt isolated and self conscious about my lack of relationships. My calling sometimes emphasizes that fact because I'm frequently asked the question "Do you know so and so?" and the answer is undoubtedly no because I can count the number of people I know even just the names of.. And don't worry, it is not lost on me that this issue is mainly my own fault. And frequently church in this area has just made me feel grumpy, due to my dealings with certain people. I have felt judged, ignored, and lonely.

But, I wanted to acknowledge that things changed when it got nearer to the time to have my new baby. Suddenly there were people in the ward that were approaching me as though they'd known me for years. Women who had made blankets for my son... when I didn't even know their name or how on earth they knew anything about me (although I suppose being hugely pregnant is a bit of an obvious factoid to know about someone). I seemed to have my prayers answered through people I barely knew. Multiple people offering to care for my children (even being aware of the added medical responsibilities present), people spontaneously dropping off food on days I really didn't want to cook.. And when it came time that my baby was born.. so many people signed up to bring us food. And even after the first week, more people dropped off food.. I was on the receiving end of service I never ever would have asked for, never would have thought I wanted, and never would have expected... And just in general, there was an outpouring of concern after all the drama that happened after giving birth. Above and beyond.

For those that don't know, our church has recently revamped some fellowshipping expectations. Really I don't think it was much of a revamp so much as a better explanation of the original ideal. But it hit home for me. Partially because the new model is the way I have always felt was most effective.. But mainly because I felt like I was living proof that ministering to people makes a difference in their lives. I didn't feel like a checkmark on someone's to do list... I felt loved. People have served me who were never "assigned" to do so.. and even those who were "assigned" seemed to genuinely want to be there for me unconditionally. It's a bit odd, feeling loved by people you don't really know. Humbling.

Washington still doesn't feel like home. And I still miss Texas. But... I'm grateful for the love I've been shown. I'm amazed by the example of people I've interacted with these last couple months. I know we've been in Washington for a reason, and there are experiences I've had here that I wouldn't trade for anything. And I think my circumstances made it easier for me to focus on my family, and developing my talents, and using them for my family, for which I'm grateful. For those that don't know, we're moving back to Idaho (just a few miles away from where we are now), in just a couple months. And in some ways I'm still glad to get away from certain frustrations.. But I also feel a bit conflicted now too, which I hadn't expected. I am sad to leave the people/ward that have made me feel like a bit like family.

So thank you, to those who have ministered to me, served and shared with me your time and talents. Time means the most to me. Knowing someone was thinking about me, means a lot to me. And that, I think, is what is at the core of ministering...

Heroes

In life, a lot of people seem to cross our path only to never be seen again. Some times we may even be able to anticipate which people in our lives may not be permanent fixtures. And yet, we come to love them and respect them, and often look up to them.

This is a concept that I have often accepted and often struggled with. I myself have received the warning or guidance that I would be put in the position many times in my life to be able to positively touch the lives of those I come in contact with. But I have often felt sad receiving the warning that those people would not become permanent fixtures in my life... that I would only be able to touch them briefly. Because usually, the people whose lives I am aware of having touched, are people who I have come to love very deeply and it is always sad to see them go.

And yet there are probably a hundred people whose lives each of us have touched, and we were completely oblivious to doing it. And there are people who I have thought, they will never know how much they changed my life. And I know that in ten years they probably won't remember me at all, while I will still be feeling grateful for the change they helped to trigger in my life. And sometimes I wish you could hammer into people's heads just how much their actions meant.

I don't really know why I'm writing on this subject tonight, to be honest. Only that it kept coming to my mind and I felt uneasy going to bed without writing it out first. I usually feel uncomfortable when people tell me they are impressed with me in anyway. It feels weird to be praised for things that in a lot of ways are outside of my control. How I respond to what life gives me is within my control of course, but still. And I know that most people feel that way. I used to try really hard to hammer into people's heads just how amazing they were. But it's hard when people can't or won't receive it. And I don't blame them since I'm the same way. Guess it gives me perspective for how people have felt when they were the ones trying to hammer something into my head about myself, ha.

Lately I have been nearly overwhelmed with feelings of adoration for someone I know is going through something really hard. And while I know there's always two sides of a story.. the side you feel inside, and the side you portray to the world... I just feel such a deep respect for the bravery and faith I have been able to witness even from my limited perspective. That's always a hard compliment to give people because I know the immediate response is likely, ha, thanks, but I'm not brave, I'm terrified inside. Or don't call me faithful, because my heart has been overwhelmed with doubt. Even if that's not what they say out loud when responding to you on the matter. And I know how that feels when people compliment you on things that make you feel weak. But even our weaknesses can be strengths to other people. Even our weaknesses can buoy others up when they are feeling just as hopeless. Because no matter how we feel inside, it is our actions that matter most. How we choose to act is what means something to other people, not how scared we were when we did it. And I wish I could adequately portray those feelings.

Heroes aren't perfect. And heroes are rarely the stuff of legend. They aren't always beautiful or strong by the world's standards. And heroes rarely see themselves as heroes.

But, to the person who was friends with me when no one else was, the person who truly listened when no one else did, to the person who loved me when I couldn't love myself, to the person who encouraged me to seek help, to the person who made me want to be better, to the person who accepted me when I was afraid you wouldn't, to the person who held me when I needed to cry, to the person who respected me and taught me what real friendship looked like, to the person who believed me when others didn't, to the person who helped me when I thought I was beyond helping, to the person who made the effort to make it obvious they wanted to be my friend when I was feeling anxiety, to the person who brought me something seemingly small and insignificant when I was feeling forgotten, to the person who smiled through their trials and thanked God despite them, to the person who shared their story with me and helped me feel not so alone, to the person who helped me navigate a difficult trial, to the person who always responds to my texts/emails, to the person who offered to be there for me despite barely knowing me, to the person who let me be 100% me, to the person who forgave me for shutting them out, to the person who made me promise not to hurt myself, to the person who let me serve and pamper them without complaining about it, to the person that kept me going to church when I wanted to quit, to the person who forgave me when I screwed up, to the Savior who died for me that I might live with Him again...

You are my heroes. You are the reason I have grown into who I am today. And no matter how brief the interaction... I am thankful to you for what you did for me. And I wish I could properly express how much you have meant.

I also know that sometimes we deny people the opportunity to be our heroes. We stubbornly tell people we're fine, or that we don't need help when really... what we need feels so silly or weird to ask for, or we feel like we need to do things by ourselves to be successful... When really we just need to let them in. Give them the blessing of being allowed to serve you. Because I know that there have been times in my life when my ability to serve others was the greatest happiness I had ever known.

Be Ye Therefore Whole

So it's been a while! I heard a comment today/yesterday, referring to what parents hope for their children that got my mind going. And so I thought for a moment, "What is it that I hope for my children?" In all honesty, the only major recurring thoughts I've had on this subject are along the lines of "please let them not make the same mistakes I made" and "please let them not face the same trials I faced."

And what I realized today is that that represents a faulty perspective. While I wouldn't necessarily say that I am grateful for the pain caused by the mistakes I've made or the trials I've faced, and do not relish the idea that my children may face/cause similar pain and that realistically I have very little control over those possibilities... On more than one occasion I have felt grateful for who I have become, and what I have been able to accomplish (the friends and acquaintances I have been able to help) because of those experiences. And who am I to wish that my children will not have experiences that in the long run, positively affect their growth as human beings, and as sons and daughters of God? Obviously my kids will make mistakes. Obviously they will face trials. Whether or not they are the same ones I faced is realistically irrelevant. What matters, I decided... or what I should actually hope for my children, is that whatever their mistakes/trials may be... I hope they will learn from those experiences. I hope they will learn what they need in order to use them for the good of those around them.

On a somewhat related note... or at least.. I connected the two ideas when presented with them today. In church today, we discussed the article “Be Ye Therefore Perfect — Eventually” by Jeffrey R. Holland, addressing the concept in the scriptures of being perfect. And by that, I refer to the scripture in Matthew 5:48 reading "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect."

I don't know about other religions, but this seems to be something that an awful lot of Mormons beat themselves up over. I've been commanded to be perfect, and so far I'm sucking at it, and don't have much hope for achieving it tomorrow either kind of thing. Because we obsess over the modern definition of perfection meaning flawlessness. But, someone in church today referenced a scholar who has researched the original translations and found that "perfect" is better translated as "whole, refined, healthful, complete, having integrity". She didn't know who it was, but I found the following article that seems to match up with what she was talking about. It's really a very good read regardless of your denomination, so I recommend you pop over and take a look: "Be Ye Therefore Perfect:" The Elusive Quest for Perfection by Frank F. Judd (even if you only read the first few sections, it's still very enlightening but all of it is good). He gives an example that seemed to me, almost comical--that poor drunken Noah, who is described in Genesis as "perfect" ought to illustrate the fact that when the scriptures described him as "perfect" they did not mean flawless. I don't know about you, but this feels like a LIFE CHANGING perspective change when it comes to the instruction to be perfect.

Later the author goes on to say that further examples of words being translated as "perfect" connote being "safe, at peace" and that having a perfect heart implies "a life of complete loyalty" despite whatever mistakes or setbacks we experience. (Meaning, YES you can make mistakes and still be achieve "perfection")

For me personally, this spoke to two things. One, the commandment to be perfect/whole spoke to me on a mental health level. As though the commandment were more along the lines of "take care of yourself, take the time to become whole, be healthy" And it also spoke to the concept of eternal growth.

Referring back to my earlier subject of my children learning what they need from their experiences... I think this ties in rather well. We can either experience trials and think, well that sucked, my life sucks, and it's not fair, and "why me, God?" kind of feelings... Or we can use those experiences to be more whole. To become more well-rounded. To develop new strengths, to turn our weaknesses into strengths. We cannot become whole without the experiences this life provides us. Essentially, we are commanded to grow. To take something from what we have experienced each day and use it to fill in one more piece of the puzzle that Heavenly Father has envisioned for who we are capable of being. Religious or not, I think we can all relate to the idea of each experience we have as being things that expand the whole of who we are throughout our lives. And one hopes that we continue that expansion throughout our lives. Someone at church made a comment alone those lines of.. even if I screwed up today, I can decide to be just a little bit better tomorrow. And if every day I'm a little bit better, then it'll be okay. I would also like to point out, that we cannot become whole without relying on Christ and the Atonement. So to be whole, is also a commandment to allow Christ to help us with the slack of our shortcomings.

One last comment, on a bit of a soap box semi-related note.. I heard a few comments today that implied that when we achieve "perfection" we will be practical carbon copies of God. Think like him, talk like him, etc etc. And I seriously disagree. And maybe they didn't mean for their comments to come across exactly the way I took them.. But I think it refers more to being free from anger, lust, hate... it refers to being on message with God, "faith, love, repentance, truth" etc... Having the same qualities and virtues as God is not the same as being a carbon copy of him. I will always be me. I will always be unique. And God will never strip me of that even in "perfection." We can be one in purpose and devotion without being carbon copies of Him or anyone else for that matter.

Anyway, I leave you with a quote from Brigham Young, found in the article I shared above.

"To be as perfect as we possibly can, according to our knowledge, is to be just as perfect as our Father in heaven is. He cannot be any more perfect than He knows how, any more than we."

If we are doing the best we can each day, then we are following the commandment to be like Him. I wish for my children to be whole. To grow every day into who they are meant to be, and to keep finding new pieces of themselves from now, and forever. And I think that's what God wants for us too, as His sons and daughters.