But Not For Me

  

via saturdayeveningpost.com

I recently confessed to my older brother that I procrastinate on purpose because my best work comes from last minute hustle.  This principle doesn't apply like a Blanket to my entire life... just certain aspects of it.
In high school, I wrote research papers the day before they were due. I would study and research and mentally prep and then WRITE my buns off.
And I always got full marks.
I had a really patient English teacher who would let me turn in crappy outlines and note cards because she knew I always wrote my paper last minute the day before and THEN wrote the outlines and note cards based on the paper -not the other way around.

I was a member of our High School's Academic Decathlon.  We were such a small school that our team was by far the smallest in the region and none of us took it seriously (to our discredit).  In Academic Decathlon, we're required to give prepared speeches in competitions.
I never once prepared a speech.
Ever.
I did, however, walk in and GIVE speeches.  I took home a 3rd place Speech medal once and felt pretty awful about it.  There was about 300 other kids that had actually PREPARED and PRACTICED a speech, and I was careless and silly about the whole thing.  I didn't deserve that medal.

Confessing to my brother felt good. 
"I once forgot about a science project," my brother told me after I confessed to him, "I put something together the night before and got the highest grade in the class."
We bonded that day.  We shared a moment, and he went on to confess that he's been "blessed" with procrastination as well, and he had fairly fat package of supporting examples.
"What do we do?" I asked, "Fight it?  FORCE ourselves to believe that procrastination is BAD?"
And we finally came to an agreements.
The phrase "When we fail to plan, we plan to fail," is great.  It's great.  But it's not for me -not always.  Even today, some of my best Sharing Times come to me Sunday morning (which is SUPER convenient with three little kiddos to feed and bathe and dress for church).  Sometimes I will plan.  And last minute: something better comes to my mind and I toss my plans out and go with my last-minute ideas.

Living with addiction (both my own and my husband's) has taught me that there's SO many great tools and resources and books out there... but they're not all for me.  Not right now.  Not with the dynamic I'm living with.

But I didn't know that 8 years ago!  I didn't!
I thought the sex books WERE for me!  Surely, if I got sex "right" porn would cease to be a part of our relationship!
I thought Dr. Laura WAS for me!  Surely, her advice about taking perfect care of my adoration-starved dragon slayer would "help"!
I thought more sex!  better sex!  sex!  sex!  sex!  and DATES!  dates with sex!  Fun, creative, dates that ended with sex!
I thought dating blogs were for me!
Dating advice!  Spice up your marriage blogs!

I've taken a leap back.  I big leap.  A Texas-sized leap.
Those resources are great.  Those are great for other people.

But a woman who has become addicted to her husband's porn addiction?  Is MORE SEX really the answer to her broken brain?  Not for me.

I'm finding this applies to me in so many ways.  I need to be able keep my mind open and aware -I need to be able to feel my gut speak to me, so when I come across a lesson, a tool, a resource I will be able to FEEL and KNOW if it's for me.
The Lord will let me know.  I just have to ask and listen and follow.

Years ago, I was invited to a Girl's Night Out.  Based on the invitation, it looked like a consultant in a multi-level company was going to be there... selling sex stuff.  The invite didn't go into details, but it left a website.
I thought maybe I'd go!  I got the invite from an LDS woman I knew -a good Christian woman.  Surely the party would be tasteful and it would give me the opportunity to improve my sex life.  I was ALL for that because it meant I'd be able to fully indulge in my addiction: helping my husband overcome his sexual addiction through more sex with me!
I logged on the website just to make sure I wasn't getting into anything too grody.
And I'm glad I did.  The minute the main page flashed on my screen, my gut screamed at me.
"NO.  Get outta here."
So I did.  I felt weird declining the invite.  I followed my gut, but my head was standing by going, "Why aren't you going?  It will help everything in your marriage get better!  LDS people just don't have enough sex.  It's nothing we have to be ashamed of.  It's normal.  Other LDS people will be there improving their marriages..."

Oh, the lies.

Those parties are not for me.
Sex has been scrambled in my brain.  I don't understand it.
I over think it.  I don't want it.  I do want it.  I'm nervous.  I'm anxious.  My belly has jelly.  Are my legs shaved?  What's he thinking?  Am I a fix?  Is there a new episode of Hart of Dixie on tonight?  If I was paralyzed and couldn't have sex would he love me?  Would he stay?  Did I remember to buy "Hold on Little Tomato" on iTunes?  I need to have sex with my husband.  This is necessary.  He's worked hard today.  He deserves sex.  I need to perform.  I love him and this is how he understands love.  But can sex addicts HAVE sex as a need?  That doesn't make sense.  Does it make sense?  Is it my job to separate his addiction from our bedroom?  He does.  I can't.  I won't.  My gut tells me I shouldn't have to separate.  I won't.  I can do this.  If I feel safe, I will.  If I don't, I won't.
Stop thinking.
Stop THINKING.
What time is it?

And THAT, people, is the effects of medicating codependecy with sexudcation.

Sexudcation is for healthy couples.  It is not for me.

Prayer is for me.  Turning things over to the Lord is for me.
Honest sex -sex that doesn't violate my gut -that is for me.
Books on Abraham Lincoln, books of Robert Frost poetry, my Healing Through Christ manual, my scriptures... THOSE books are for me.
The simplicity of the gospel is for me: faith, love, the Atonement -THOSE are for me.
And uplifting music?  That's for me too.

I'll get through this sex tornado in my brain.  I will.  Okay, I won't.  But I'll hand it to the Lord and he'll get rid of it.  I don't know how to hand it over.  Not yet.
I'm working on knowing how.
I just have to hold on.

(Don't you dare fast forward through that awesome-sauce clarinet solo...)