By Any Other Name

A bit random, and perhaps an unpopular opinion, but I have never been very attached to my name. In some ways I have felt very unattached to my name even. I think in my late elementary/early middle school years I was infatuated with the idea of native cultures and having a name be given to you later in life that matched your personality, your achievements, your talents, whatever. I recognize that my parents chose a name that felt right to them, just as I have chosen names for my children that felt right. But at the same time, to me my name has always felt like it may as well be just a number. It’s a label by which I am called and says nothing about who I am. 

Honestly, I have always preferred nicknames. And it really doesn’t matter what they are so long as they are personal. Growing up most of my friends called me “Em” and that was always fine. I liked that. It’s not like it’s a far cry from my name, but it indicated a closeness and a relationship where they felt comfortable calling me something else and I liked that. It communicated something, it meant something. Whereas anyone can call me Emily, from the random cashier reading my name off my debit card, to my loving husband. It doesn’t mean anything.

My freshman year of high school I was called many things. And I won’t even attempt to relay them all. But the ones that I remember most were “Stalker” and “Skittles.” And I promise I never stalked anyone, that wasn’t the reason for the nickname. It was an inside joke, and stemmed from me being embarrassingly dorky… and it’s something I would have to show you, not tell you 😂😅 But I loved it, because it was personal. It meant something. It was ours. And honestly I’m pretty sure the name Skittles only stemmed from me eating skittles a few too many times or something. My point is only that I really don’t care what it is people call me as long as it comes from a place of love and means something. 

My husband and I call each other Spousen. I don’t remember when it started or how it came about. But I also love it. That’s not to say he never calls me Emily. He does. But he also calls me Spousen, and that’s the one that makes me smile.

My mother always intended for me to go by “Emily Jane.” And I remember when she told me that.. I was sort of like “Well I didn’t know that” lol. It always felt like the “yikes, I’m in trouble, the middle name has come out.” But I also remember really loving it. And I was glad she told me because that’s the name that feels like… mine. The name that means something. I enjoy the fact that I was named Emily because of the movie Saturday's Warrior. I enjoy the fact that I have some random semi-distant relative named Emily Jane although I wasn't officially named after her. But I love most that my mother had a plan. Not just to call me Emily, but that I would be Emily Jane. Something about the Jane makes it feel personalized. Mine. Every now and then I let people know that I prefer Emily Jane and that I really like when people call me that. And every now and then people do, but mostly it’s just one of those things. Too many syllables and people get lazy and find a way to shorten it. So I mostly don’t bother because it never gets used anyway. Maybe one of these days I’ll decide to officially switch to introducing myself that way to people from the get-go. And the percentage might go up. I totally acknowledge that it doesn't help that I don't introduce myself that way.

The ironic thing I suppose is that I have never been one to hand out nicknames for people. I tend to use their given name because that’s what I have, right? And then as I get to know them and love them, to me, their name begins to embody them, and everything I love about them. And so of course their name fits them, because, it just is.. it’s them, and it makes me think of them and what I love about them and it makes me smile. It feels personal to me. And I probably ought to remind myself that there are people who feel that way about me and my name too. 

But in the end, it's not the name that makes the person, it's the person that makes the name, regardless of what it is. Names have meaning because of the meaning that we give to them. Whether it's because of the person that gave the name, or the story behind the name, the feeling behind the name, what have you... To me, that also means that I have control over insults. Because they only have the meaning and power that I give them, that I allow them to have. 

In the end, a rose, or in this case, an Emily, by any other name... is still... just... me. Whoever, whatever that is, however I define myself to be.

What I Miss

I consider myself pretty comfortable in my own skin. I’m not ashamed of my body even if there are things I would change if I could. I’m happy with who I am even if I’m not perfect. I’m mostly happy at church even if I have my doubts and frustrations. I’m very comfortable answering questions about my childhood, addiction recovery, intimacy, my same sex attraction, my doubts in the church.. whatever it may be.

But ever since I revealed my same-sex attraction I have felt a pressure to be extremely clear in my interactions with other women so there is no opportunity for misunderstandings regarding my intentions. I had to completely rewrite my list of boundaries with people. And sometimes I miss the old me. I created a blanket rule that I wouldn’t touch people anymore. In some ways I needed that. I certainly follow that with men so as not to give the wrong impression. But with women, I’m still seeking connection and not just lack of miscommunication. Which makes everything more complicated.

By nature I’m a very physical person. I like hugs. I could do long tight hugs with people every time I see them even if it was yesterday. I like the gentle tap of the shoulder or knee in the midst of conversation. Something about even those subtle innocuous moments makes me feel loved and accepted because to me it communicates a closeness and permission to be in their space. I like to give back scratches, or play with people's hair; I like to give massages to my friends and used to give them almost daily. The last year or so I have finally felt like maybe I could sort of try being a little more that way again. And I’ve tried to give myself permission for the occasional tap of the shoulder, hug, whatever. 

But the transition to this fills me with a lot of anxiety. Every tap of the shoulder, touch of the arm, every compliment (and I love to compliment too) comes only after I have had a conversation with myself as to whether or not I think I can do it without sending the wrong message. Whether or not it could make them think the wrong thing or make them uncomfortable. And sometimes I worry afterwards that I read the moment wrong. And I’m tired of thinking about my every move, though I recognize much of it exists only in my head.

Understand that even before people knew, I have never once taken advantage of a friend’s trust. I have never once touched someone with an intimate motive without their awareness and consent. And I certainly don’t ever plan on doing so. And even with this attempt to adjust my boundaries, I am very careful to monitor my own feelings so that if there is any chance that allowing that looser boundary will lead to temptation, I don’t. I keep to the old boundary unless I am positive it will not lead to anything. 

I just miss feeling free to express myself and interact with people the way I used to without feeling anxious about it… without constantly feeling like I’m a possible discomfort in people’s lives. I needed boundaries. Boundaries are good. But also... while boundaries should be in line with your values, they should also be in line with who you are.

I’ve been assured by people before that people shouldn’t be misreading my intentions because I’m clearly married and clearly not looking for a relationship. But geez if the awkward situation that happened with my affair-seeking-neighbor this year taught me anything… it’s to never assume that people think being married means you don’t have other intentions. So I remain in the middle, trying to walk a line between being myself, and trying to keep my intentions clear. And I hope one day it will come to me more easily again. I’m just tired.

Rose Colored Words

As a youth we had a regional church leader that was a very happy and outgoing man. Every time he saw me I remember he would ask "How are you doing?" and I would answer something like "Good," or "Fine," and his response was always "Good!? Not great?" or "Fine? Not amazing?" Something along those lines. To some extent there was something rote about it. But at the same time, it was better than the typical response of not questioning or investigating why the person didn't say they were better than good/fine. If I was actually better than fine then I could respond "You're right, I am great!" And if I wasn't, I could shrug my shoulders and say, "Maybe another day." It prompted a more genuine response even if I didn’t really want to talk about it. And he genuinely cared. And it was one of the first lessons I got in being genuine with my responses. And that words matter. 

As a young adult I had a friend who was one of the most insightful regarding my emotions. They could tell when something was wrong sometimes before I had come to admit it myself. I learned not to filter my responses with words like "Fine" with them because there was guaranteed to be a follow up question like "Why just fine?" or "What does fine mean?" or a straight up "What's wrong?" And we had a policy of answering any question honestly and genuinely. No dodging or filtering allowed. So I knew I'd have to answer the question anyway. 

I won't claim that that was a perfect or ideal policy necessarily. But it taught me the value of being genuine and authentic with my responses because I value when people are genuine and authentic with me, and when I can be that with someone else.

More than anything, I value honesty and communication. I like when people update me when a plan changes. I like when people communicate their boundaries to me instead of waiting until I’ve crossed one a few too many times. I like when people take the time to send a text or an email that is longer than a few words. I like having conversations with people. I like when people take the time to have those conversations with me. That makes me feel loved and wanted. I like when people are willing to ask me questions instead of dancing around or ignoring a subject. I like when people feel comfortable sharing things about themselves with me. I feel loved when people are willing to share their sad and not just their happy and let me see beyond the rose-colored version of their lives they freely portray to others.

I also think that when people are genuine, we’re better off mental-health-wise. Imagine a world where people freely portrayed more than just the nice sweet happy moments. Where people said “not amazing” instead of “fine” when asked “how are you doing?” Imagine feeling less awful about not feeling happy, because you knew and understood that you were not alone in that feeling—that it was normal to be less than perfectly happy all the time. I know that feeling alone and abnormal in my sadness has certainly never helped me. Imagine a world where the world felt more rosy, simply because we took off the glasses forcing people to pretend it was.  

Unabashedly Genuine

 Last winter I had some serious mental health issues which I didn’t recognize at the time. And it put me in a dark headspace that affected my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. And I haven’t been able to shake the feelings that resulted. 

I have had several gospel related conversations since then with multiple people. And sure, sometimes I hope that this new person will have something magical to say that will make my doubts or feelings go away. But in reality I know that’s not happening. And often people have the impulse to try to “fix” me, and give advice, or provide the perfect answer. And I 100% understand because I know I’ve done it before. And I 100% understand that it’s coming from a place of love and concern, and I 100% appreciate that. And I’m not trying to fault anyone for trying, because we’re all just doing our best out here. And I appreciate the love.

But I have also come to understand that that moment is dependent on me and my feelings and my own relationship with the Holy Ghost. And the work I’m willing to put in to getting there. And I haven’t felt willing/able to do much of that… and so not much has changed. I’m sitting with my feelings. And for now that’s okay.

But what I have also come to realize are the moments that I love the most. There are two. First, the moments when people have allowed me to express my doubts and just let them exist. No attempt to sway my opinion or change me or give advice or anything… just let me be and let me exist as I am. Again, I 100% understand the impulse to be a “fixer” because that is totally ME! But I have also learned that it is also okay to sit with our feelings for a while. And ignoring them doesn’t really help.

Now, the second moment I’ve experienced is my favorite. I love the moments when people are able/willing to share with me their testimony genuinely. Regardless of what doubts I have expressed, regardless of the frustrations I have voiced. One moment sticks out to me. I don’t remember what I said anymore. But this friend replied quite simply, something along the lines of “The Holy Ghost has never indicated that to me. That doesn’t change how I feel.” It wasn’t really in what she said, but how she said it that stuck out. But her testimony was unshaken by the feelings I had shared. And I love that. I have no desire in my doubts to shake anyone else’s testimony. I have no desire to change anyone else’s faith or understanding or confidence. 

The moments I love most in friendship are feeling like you are 100% free to be yourself, whether that is happy or sad, normal or weird, gay or straight, guilty or innocent, faithful or doubtful, perfect or imperfect, broken or whole, confident or anxious. I love the moments of being vulnerable and yet feeling safe. And when my friends share their testimony with me, in the spirit of being wholly themselves, I feel loved, and honored to be allowed to share in that genuine expression of themselves. Even when I don’t feel the same. And I have felt that same sense of honor when people have shared with me their doubts. Because again, they were sharing a genuine part of themselves with me. And I am honored to be allowed to share in that too.

But I will say that I can tell when someone is sharing their testimony with me because they want to convince me that my doubts are wrong. Versus when they are sharing their testimony with me because it is something they love. Although to be fair, at my grumpiest, I may be more inclined to perceive someone’s actions with a motive, even if that is not their intention. Which isn’t fair of me, and I recognize that. And I apologize if I have done that.

Regardless, this, I think is at the heart of missionary work. I have never felt impressed to convince anyone my religion is better than theirs or that they should join my church. And I don’t think I ever will. Because I don’t think it’s effective. What I would hope for instead, is the ability to be unabashedly me. And share the things I love with people around me because I am being wholly me. And I hope they can be wholly themselves too. “Sharing the gospel” doesn’t mean trying to convince people they’re wrong. To me, it means being unabashedly you. And if you are someone who loves Jesus, that will be part of the “you” that shines through. No hiding it. No preaching necessary. And if that is something that sticks out to them, and they feel impressed to act on, okay. And if it’s not, that is also okay. And neither choice affect my opinion of that person, or our friendship. And I hope they feel free to share with me the things that they love, even if I choose not to change to match their beliefs either.

Be unabashedly you. I am honored to be given the opportunity to see “you” and I hope I can be “me” too.

Also, let’s not judge me for the number of times I used “100%” in this post 😝 

Don’t Know What to Say

What do you say when you don’t know what to say? I’m not going to claim to be an expert here. I’ve certainly had my fair share of moments sitting in awkward silence because I didn’t know what to say. But of course there’s also different contexts for not knowing what to say. Do you not know what to say because small talk is awkward and you don’t know them very well and you’re just not sure what to say? Or you’d really rather ask something else but it may be considered personal or awkward and you don’t feel comfortable asking? Well, I relate to those. Or do you not know what to say because they just shared something personal or vulnerable or awkward etc, and you really just don’t know what to say in response. 

Learning people’s boundaries is hard. Learning their hopes and expectations is sometimes harder. Do they want you to ask a follow up question? Do they want you to provide advice? Do they want you to nod appreciatively? Do they want you to  just listen? Do they want a hug? Do they want a well timed joke, comical relief, or a change of subject? Do they want you to share a story of a similar nature where you explain why you understand how they feel because of your own experiences? Or would they rather you acknowledge that you really don’t understand at all. 

Well, there’s clearly a lot that could be said here so I’ll focus on the first thing that comes to mind: reflective listening. This is a technique frequently used by social workers and therapists. Reflective listening is actually really easy. Basically all you do is repeat back to them what they said but in your own words. Let me emphasize the “in your own words” part 😉 This is one of the reasons people enjoy going to see a therapist. It’s not really because the therapist is wise and understands you better than anyone else and can fix all your problems. They might not understand. And they might not know how to fix any of your problems. But by listening to you, doing their best to understand what you are trying to say, and then reframing it, you are given the chance to better clarify what you said if their “reflection” or “mirror” of what you said wasn’t quite what you meant. In the process of course, this can also help you dive deeper into the subject and flush out things perhaps you hadn’t considered on a conscious level. Perhaps more importantly, when someone repeats back to you what you said, you FEEL understood, and you FEEL validated. And that’s a pretty important part of therapy, am I right?

Let’s take a look at what that might look like… how about we try responding to this statement

“Coming out as gay was nerve wracking and vulnerable, but lifted a weight from my shoulders”

Okay. Maybe I didn’t know they were gay? Maybe I knew but we haven’t talked about it before? Maybe I even feel awkward about the fact that they’re gay? Maybe I recognize that they may feel vulnerable in this moment whether I knew or didn’t know before? Maybe the subject just feels heavy and instantly my brain shuts off because it feels like there is pressure to say the right thing or ease their anxiety. But what did I hear them say? What did I understand? How can I relate?

Maybe I respond by saying

“That makes sense to me, being yourself with people can be scary but can be a relief”

Did I really say anything new? Or did I just acknowledge what I understood from their message? More importantly I am seeking to validate their feelings.

Or maybe I could respond

“I imagine you still feel nervous sometimes when talking about it. Is that right?”

This provides validation, and lets them choose whether they want to keep talking about it or not, and gives them a chance to correct you if that’s not a correct mirror of how they feel. And it doesn’t matter if their response is then “nope, not nervous at all” or “yes you’re right.” Being right doesn’t necessarily make you a better listener. It’s okay to be wrong, as long as you are seeking to understand.

Let’s try another one. You could also say 

“I know you might have felt nervous when you first told me, but I’m glad you now feel more comfortable”

This is trying something new. I’m speaking to something that was not necessarily said. I’m reading between the lines and making an assumption. They said they were nervous when they “came out” and I’m acknowledging that they may have felt that way with me specifically. I could also have specifically referenced their parents or their best friend or their significant other or whoever in the place of me. All I’m doing is addressing what they said in the context of a specific example I can imagine taking place. 

I could also ask about their feelings directly

“Is it still nerve wracking now, when you talk about it?”

I think the big thing with reflective listening is that I’m not trying to come up with new material here. I’m not jumping from talking about the weather and now trying to think up the next subject we can discuss. It’s a lot less pressure to just respond to what’s been presented than trying to think of something new.

Now, this example was actually a fairly easy one because they revealed their emotions right off the bat. What if they only said “I’m gay.” And you are left with responding to that alone?

Honestly I can respond with something as simple as “so you’re attracted to women?” Again, all I did was repeat back what they said but in my own words. They then have the chance to clarify what being “gay” means for them. Maybe you’re right, maybe they meant something else. They now have the chance to agree with you, or say “no, I only meant I’m happy” 😜 or maybe they can follow up with “well I’m actually bi-sexual” or any number of things. 

Or, I try to read between the lines and reply to the feelings I imagine they’re having.

“Was it scary to tell me that?”

Imagine how you might feel if put in their shoes, and try to respond to the feelings said or unsaid.

Reflective listening can work for a lot of things. What about politics?

“Talking about Trump makes me so mad!”

What do I say if I don’t agree with them? Well, I don’t have to agree with them to listen to them. I can repeat back what they said or I can speak to the feelings in between the lines

“I take it you don’t like Trump?”

Or “It can be so frustrating when someone you don’t agree with is in power.”

I don’t have to tell them if I disagree. That’s not to say you can’t or that it’s wrong to tell them you disagree.. just that it’s not a skill in reflective listening specifically. That could still be your follow up statement, “I like Trump, but I understand that he causes you frustration. You can tell me more about why he makes you mad”

Disagreeing doesn’t have to shut down the conversation. I can give them the chance to talk further about their feelings and let them know that their feelings are just as valid and worth discussing as mine. 

Anyway, maybe that’s helpful. Maybe it’s not. It’s just one tool in a toolbox, and not the only way to have a conversation.

Pinky Swear

When I was a kid, I was all about the pinky swear. I’m not sure how I got onto the concept.. probably a friend or kids at school. I remember frequently trying to get my mother to make me pinky promises that she would do something or let me do something or take me somewhere or what have you. And my mother always just said “I don’t believe in making promises.” It always frustrated me as a child. It wasn’t that she was trying to tell me she couldn’t promise something would happen just in case something fell through or things changed or what have you. That really wasn’t what she meant. At one point or another she elaborated. What she meant was that in her opinion, making “promises” cheapened everything else that came out of her mouth that wasn’t declared “a promise.” Like I should believe her less or think her less reliable when the words “I promise” were missing at the end of a sentence. She believed in a “my word is my bond” mentality. She didn’t say she was going to do something unless she had every intention of doing it. In essence, every time she agreed to anything it was a promise, even though she wouldn’t wrap her pinky around mine or say “I promise.” It was implicit every time. 

Even still it annoyed me as a kid, because to me I just didn’t see the difference. It’s not a big deal to just say “I promise” or wrap pinkies! Right? What’s the difference if everything is a promise?

But as an adult, and as a mother, I find myself understanding more and more. I don’t want to make promises to my kids. I don’t want to tell them I will do something and have them worried that there’s an “if” statement attached to it unless I follow it up with “I promise.” I want them to have full confidence that I will do what I said because that is my track record. No promises necessary because my word is my bond.

Plenty of people have heard me get on my “words matter” soap box. But I suppose sometimes the omission of words matters too. 

We’ve been talking to my oldest son fairly regularly lately about the idea of a “track record” so to speak, although not in  those words. But just the idea that people are more inclined to think of you as honest if their past experiences with you were all ones of honesty too. It’s a hard line for him to balance because while he wants to be considered honest, he also has low impulse control, and also enjoys being a prankster. Not to say you can’t be honest and a prankster, I just think it’s a hard balance for a child. 

Anyway, I think it’s one of those things that’s sort of equivalent to “actions speak louder than words” and the action of having good follow through means a lot more than just saying you’ll follow through.  I want to be taken at my word. When I tell people I feel a certain way, or don’t feel a certain way, I want them to feel confident that I am honestly and accurately portraying how I feel and not just providing lip-service for their comfort or assurance. And part of being taken at my word, means that it shouldn’t be necessary for me to follow up a statement with “I promise” because I already meant it the first time, and I want to be believed whether a promise was a proffered or not. 

Although, I’m also a flake sometimes, and forget things frequently. But my intention is always that my word is my bond, and I hope my kids learn to understand that too.

Rainbow Follow-Up

I once wrote a blog about a friend asking me the question “Would you feel more comfortable at church if everyone in the room were wearing rainbow pins” as a show of support for those who experience same sex attraction and others who identify as LGBTQ+. And I explained that at the time of the question, I said “no,” because I didn’t identify with the rainbow symbol then, but that since that conversation, I have adjusted my perspective.

One of the other reasons why I said no, was because for me, the subject of my sexuality rarely comes up at church and is therefore a moot point.

But last Sunday, we were discussing a talk by Kevin S. Hamilton and as part of that we were discussing what it means to be authentic to our true selves. And I had a strong feeling that I had something to share here that would require mentioning my sexuality, and that it would be disingenuous of me if I didn't share. And the first thing I did was look for an emotional support blanket in the form of a supportive friend that already knew. And while the person I was looking for wasn’t there, I was still able to look around and see at least 2 people in the room that knew and that I knew would support me if necessary. And that helped me find the courage to share. I find myself very grateful for the people who have voiced their support to me directly.

So, for the first time ever, I used the words “I’m gay” in a public, group setting, out loud, at church. Which felt very different from writing it out in a blog, by the way. And my hands were shaking, and my heart rate was elevated. But I was also grateful to be able to speak my mind even if my voice might shake. And I felt peace (and someone handed me a baby to hold afterwards, and that's pretty darn calming). I talked about how… while I am gay, being authentic with that doesn’t mean viewing myself as only that one thing. Viewing myself as only one thing felt very limiting in fact. But viewing myself as a Daughter of God first and foremost, allows for a wide berth of growth and change. And I can be a Daughter of God, and be gay.

Now, I think I’m at the point where I could have shared even if there wasn’t anyone in the room that I already knew supported me. Even if it would have involved a little more anxiety. But the thought did come to mind, that yes, knowing there were supportive “allies” in the room was helpful. And that is the whole point behind the idea of the rainbow pins (in my opinion). Letting people know they have support, love, and fellowship despite their differences.

Now I still stand by the fact that a pin shouldn’t be necessary. We should be able to have the reassurance that people at church love Christ and are trying to be like him and therefore are striving to love others and be kind and Christlike… right? And there are too many things for us to be nervous about sharing for a pin to represent each one. But of course, church isn’t for perfect people. Nobody’s perfect. And we all have our unique flaws and challenges. That’s how it goes. And maybe the pins help pick up some of the slack, so to speak. Help to drown out the doubt and the negative.

I’m grateful for the peace I find in being wholly me, and not just one thing. I’m grateful I have nothing to hide. I’m grateful that I can be honest and genuine with people no matter the subject or context. And I’m grateful for the support system I have, and the new additions I keep finding.

On the Subject of Porn

I had a realization this week. I have never associated any of my experiences with sexual abuse as being at the fault of porn. When my mother talks about sexual abusers she often puts it in the context of “they must have been abused themselves to be capable of doing that” and I suppose I’ve always thought of it that way. Which is probably also why I have always felt the need to be hyper-vigilant in not doing anything that could be misconstrued as inappropriate when I’m around kids because I don’t want anyone to think that because I was abused that I am more likely to abuse their kids. I won’t.

I know people who were abused and became abusers. But I don’t know if any of my abusers were abused. However, the most poignant memory I have of being abused was with a twelve year old cousin, obviously many years ago. And if you assume that he was not abused, then how else do you assume that he learned about oral sex? Where did he get the idea to make me participate in that? In some ways, my heart breaks for him, that his childhood was not what it should have been either.

I’ve never even considered that porn could be at the center of it. But I think it’s definitely something to be considered. I don’t think about 12 year olds as being capable of watching porn. Which I suppose is silly because I certainly found porn by the age of 12. But I think we tend to infantilize the youth despite our own experiences. 

Sometimes I think of porn in and of itself as a trauma. I remember the first time I found porn. The jarring images instantly burning into my brain. The images still there when I closed my eyes like my memories of abuse used to be. Yet somehow you can’t look away. Somehow you keep coming back despite the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach as you do so. There’s a sense of feeling powerless. Like in abuse.

Sometimes I think abuse stole my childhood. I still had one of course. But my 9 year old son isn’t ready to hear about half the things I knew about by the time I was 9. And yet I feel a pressure to help him be prepared. To help him be ready with a protective shield for the day he stumbles into something he shouldn’t. But I also don’t want to introduce him to the dangers of the world yet. But I also don’t want him to fall into the trap unawares. 

Finding the balance is hard. But I also think it’s imperative that we help our kids be ready for the trials we know will come whether want them to or not. 

I went to a meeting the other day where people were brainstorming what they could teach to the homeschool kids. And my first thought was that I wished I was certified in teaching the R.A.D.kids (self defense) program. Even as I thought it, part of me knee-jerked that even if I was certified, would I feel comfortable suggesting the class to all these women in the room? Preparing kids for danger means informing them that danger is a possibility. Would it be appropriate for me to do that to someone else’s kid? Of course, in this scenario they would have had the authority to decide whether or not their kid was in my class thereby giving me permission to do so… 

Anyway.. all this to say… I don’t approve of porn. I certainly don’t approve of porn being accessible to children. And the possible consequences are far-reaching. And despite our fears around hard subjects, sometimes we must introduce our kids to things we’d rather keep hidden, so they won’t go seeking answers somewhere else.

Once A Cheater...

This is one of my pet peeves. I absolutely hate being an observer to a conversation where someone chimes in with the classic phrase "Once a cheater, always a cheater." 

Most of you know that I have attended the Addiction Recovery Program. Well, less known is that I have also attended the ARP meetings intended to help the family/spouses of people who struggle with addiction. I don't talk about it cuz I've only been to 2 meetings lol. Not much to say. The first time was completely by accident. And I felt like an intruder. The wolf in sheeps clothing. Totally out of place. But at the same time, it ended up being a really great experience, and I was really grateful I had the chance to go. They made me feel loved and welcomed, I learned things I wasn't expecting, and nobody cared that I was at the wrong meeting lol. Well I tried going to a virtual meeting once during COVID because I wondered if it would help me with some different things I had going on that didn't fit into the normal Addiction Recovery Program setting. I needed a different perspective, and the last time I had accidentally gone to one of these support meetings, it had provided me with just that. A different perspective. But this time, it was a totally different experience. Some of it was because it was virtual, and that's just not so much my jam. But also, it was the people in attendance. In reality, it came down to the fact that the leader of the group was doing a bad job of making sure the meetings were following the guidelines in the handbook. But it felt like a meeting of people just complaining about their imperfect spouses and how mad they were at them, and how justified they were in feeling that way. And that REALLY made me feel like the wolf in sheeps clothing. I thought I could compartmentalize and focus on only the stuff I had come to this meeting for, but I couldn't. I felt like an imposter, and if they found out "the real me" that I'd be a pariah. They had no clue how uncomfortable they were making me, and their comments were being made under the assumption that everyone in the meeting had had similar experiences as them, so I can't fault them... but I never attended again. 

Well, here's the difference. That first group that I accidentally attended was 100% focused on the atonement. And repentance. The potential for change and growth and faith and trust, and love for their spouse. Even if they were struggling with the choices their loved ones were making, the focus was on hope in Christ. 

The attitude in the second meeting had very little to do with the atonement. Which, if you're familiar with the Addiction Recovery Support Manuals.... is sort of the main theme. I'm not saying you're not allowed to be mad at your spouse if they cheat on you or do something to betray you in any way. And you're allowed to vent that frustration. Although, obviously, I'd be careful who you vent to... I'm just saying that we can't say things like "once a cheater, always a cheater" and also claim to believe in repentance. And, in the end, I believe it is not anger at a spouse that helps them repent, but love for them that can help.

While we're at it, here's another one I don't like (and I'm more likely to catch grief for this opinion): Anything along the vein of "Cheaters are the absolute worst people." One, I don't like blanket statements. Two, while I'm not going to justify cheating, I also know that temptations sometimes take us to places where we're not thinking logically, not thinking of the consequences, and not thinking of others and therefore make choices we otherwise wouldn't make. Just like addiction does. Not just temptation either... sometimes it's depression or anxiety or any number of things. Now, again, does any of that justify the cheating? Nope. But I think it creates a more complex issue than the statement "Cheaters are the absolute worst people" can possibly cover.

In the end it comes down to 2 things for me. People are always capable of change. And, to quote Dallin H. Oaks, in the end we are not judged by the "sum total of good and evil acts—what we have done," instead we will be judged by "the final effect of our acts and thoughts—what we have become." Defining people by their natural man, does nothing but limit them to where they are now. Instead, let us believe in each other, and in Christ's ability to help all mankind become more than the sum total of their choices. How can we help each other become more than our weakest moments? How can we become more, together?

Serenity

 I remember in high school specifically feeling very frustrated when we were running late and my father was driving. Those that know my father know that he is a calm man in general. A man of fairly few words, or at least the type to reserve speech for when there was something specific that needed to be said. He’s also a very logic driven man. He used to say things like “Being upset won’t get us there any faster.” And boy did that irk me as a teenager. To me it just felt like he didn’t understand how important it was that I be there on time. These days I think my desire to be on time is probably anxiety driven. I would rather not go somewhere than be late. I try to ignore that feeling as much as possible because of course the reality is that once I’m there, there are usually very few consequences for being late and it’s better to go late than not go at all. This of course depends on the circumstances, but let’s throw it out there as a general statement for now.

When I started attending addiction recovery meetings, I became more familiar with what’s referred to as the “Serenity Prayer.”

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

I obviously applied this first to things like my mental health, sexual orientation, bad choices/habits and the like. Reasons I was attending the Addiction Recovery Program.

But more recently I’ve been thinking about it in regards to other areas of my life. Why should I spend mental energy on things I cannot change? I realize now that my father has been utilizing this philosophy my whole life. Why be antsy and frustrated when driving somewhere when nothing you do at this point will change when you arrive? Why spend the mental energy on that? Obviously if you have the tendency to run late, then there are things you can do that are within your control to limit that in the future… but as for the current moment when you’re already late? Nope.

Why hold grudges when holding the grudge won’t change what happened? It just means you’re exerting extra mental energy. Why worry about things you can’t control? It won’t change anything. You’re just mentally exhausting yourself and rooting yourself to a place of unhappiness. Now that’s not to say that we’re not entitled to our feelings. Because we are. And it’s good to feel them. It just doesn’t do any good to hold onto things forever that can’t be changed.

I remember sometime after high school, reaching out to a friend to ask for the contact information of one of their relatives because I wanted to write them a letter letting them know I forgave them for taking advantage of me sexually as a child. It was a bit of an awkward affair because I knew by asking that I would be outing myself as having been abused because there was absolutely no other reason why I would possibly need this person’s contact info. And this wasn’t a particularly close friend that I would normally share that kind of information with. But I had come to the decision that in order to live my best life, I needed to not hold onto negative emotions like resentment or sadness or anger. This was something I could do. Something I could change. And I hoped too that maybe by letting that person know that the people he had hurt were capable of forgiving him, that that would teach him that he too could change. Because I also felt like it was fair that if he had changed, that he be free to let go of any guilt for what he had done. And maybe I could help with that. 

But I also had to accept that there was a good chance he would never reply, just like the others. There was a good chance I wouldn’t even know if he ever received the message. And a good chance he would never be sorry. All I could do was send it, and accept that that was all I could do.

I keep finding new ways to apply this philosophy. I can’t control if people like me. I can’t control my children’s emotions. I can’t control church doctrine. I can’t control the chaos and sadness in the world today. I can only do what I can do. And after that, I have to let go, and let the rest be. But I am grateful for the serenity when it comes. I can be proud of the things I can change. And I can keep working on identifying and accepting what things I can change, and what things I cannot. I can keep striving for the courage to do what I can. And that’s enough for now. And that brings me peace.