Wednesday, February 27, 2013


I'm not okay with others not being okay with me.

I'll go to great lengths to make sure others are okay with me at the expense of my own comfort (I hate this.  I'm working hard on this).  In my marriage, I went to great lengths to make sure my husband was okay with me at the expense of my own peace... which is miles of worse.

I wanted to be different than other couples with problems.
I wanted to be tougher than issues.

I wanted to be okay.

So I said I was.  I guess I figured that maybe if I said it enough, I would begin to feel and believe it as well because what I actually was feeling was NOT okay.
But I hated that I wasn't okay, so I escaped.  I shoved the feelings down so I wouldn't have to truly experience them.  I watched a lot of movies.  I ate a lot of junk.
I spent a lot of time online.

And when he asked me how I was doing, I would say, "I'm okay."
And I would give the same report to the Lord, "I'm okay."

For some reason, I was content to have being OK be my goal -probably because I was so torn up inside that truly being okay seemed like a dream.  I'd forgotten what it felt like to be okay.  Just plain okay.

What was I?
I was hurt.  I was angry.  I was confused.  I was reeling.

With each near-daily confession from my husband, emotions swirled around me in a chaotic panic, begging to be unleashed.
But I was stronger than my emotions.
So I resisted the strong pull to give them any credit or reign... and I said, "I'm okay."

Last night, my husband opened up to me and confessed he realized he'd been acting out on his lust addiction in other ways -as in: ways that don't include porn.
I listened.
When he finished talking, his eyes were full of terror, apprehension, shame... I could hear his thoughts.
'How is she going to take this?'

And I answered out loud, "I'm okay."
We put the kids to bed, he went to bed, and I stayed awake.  I wrote and prayed and searched for pain.
Where is it?  Where is the pain and the anger?  Shouldn't they BE here?
I'm ready to give them reign for a little while.  I'm ready to feel them, handle them, learn from them.  I won't stifle them or pretend I'm stronger than them.
I recognize they aren't facts... I recognize that they are necessary... I recognize that they have a purpose.

I close my eyes and focus on what my husband has said to me.  I breathe in and breath out.  My brain hunts for any shred of emotion.
And finds peace. 

This can't be right.
This can't be normal.
There has to be more to this.

I pray and I pray and I feel only peace and clarity and then my thoughts wander and I think about the baby's upcoming blessing, the laundry waiting to be washed the next morning, the chicken that needs to thaw.
I think about a friend of mine who is going through a miscarriage and  has a white-knuckling porn addicted husband, and I think about how I want to save her.
I think about how I want to save everyone.
I wonder WHY. 
Saving is the Savior's job.  Why would I want such a heavy responsibility?  Why would I be so pompous as to presume that I have saving abilities?
I pray, I write.
I realize and write my fears: I'm afraid of my husband cycling because it brings anger.  I'm afraid of anger.
But I can divorce the anger.  I can leave.  I don't have to be around cycling anger, I write.
My fear dissipates.
I'm afraid my friend will endure unimaginable pain unless I intervene.
But she is in God's hands, I write.
Be still, I write.
Know that He is God, I write.
Let Go and Let God, I write.

I read a talk about serving for the right reasons because I found myself serving a woman yesterday and wanting to save her from the physical pain that was ailing her.  I wanted to jump in and start controlling certain aspects of her life.
Do I serve to save? I write.
Do I serve to serve the Lord? I write.

And I read a talk that gives me clarity.
"Observing and then serving is not always convenient and doesn't always fit our own timetable...Sometimes we are tempted to serve in a way that we want to serve and not necessarily in the way that is needed at the moment...ask, "Am I doing this for the Savior, or am I doing this for me?" [and] our service will more likely resemble the ministry of the Savior."
~Linda K. Burton
 And then I sit back.  I exhale.
I take in my miracle, let myself believe in it... I let myself believe that there isn't pain around the corner.  I let myself believe that I'm not a victim.  I let myself believe that I am more than okay.
And I FEEL it because it is genuine and true.
I feel genuine and true forgiveness -I hadn't even sat down to search out forgiveness.  I sat down to absorb, to meditate, and forgiveness found it's way to me as I put my pen to paper.
I feel forgiveness, I write.  It stops me in my writing tracks... and I realize that I didn't forgive IN that moment, but that I had forgiven him months ago.  Is that possible?  Is preforgiveness actually a THING?  
I stop skeptically searching for pain, and I bask in soft peace.
Miracles make it easier to sleep.


  1. Lust is so hard!!!! It is a four letter L word! I don't my husband today (sorry if this is crass- you can delete it), "It's just a butt- people, all people- push poop out of it! They are just BOOBS! All women have them to some degree, they are just there, to feed a child or be shared with the man you love! But, YOU make them sexual! They don't have to be!"

    I've been thinking (and blogging) a lot about WHY men do this. How they started. How they can change their thoughts to be wholesome and pure. And how lust can be dug out, ripped up and destroyed.

    Everyone has a body. God made us that way. Everyone is naked at some point during the day (because hopefully they change their underwear or shower) and it doesn't have to be sensual or sexual. It just is.

    I'm sorry there was another disclosure. They are so hard. You can email me if you want to talk about it. I'm happy to give you my number too.

    Good job finding your miracles!

    1. Funny thing: I once discussed butts and lust with my husband for over an hour and the conversation culminated in one final decision: If people pictured other people pooping, there would be more fidelity in the world.

      It's just gross. I mean, we all do it. But it's gross. And it takes the oomph out of lust.
      Your comment cracked me up because it made me think of my Poop Hypothesis (I haven't exactly put it to the test yet, haha).

  2. Beautiful. Thanks for sharing.

  3. I'm glad to be back. I've been reading your most recent blog entries. Insightful stuff! You have such a way with words, and are able to articulate things so that I am edified and entertained at the same time! Thanks, Alicia!

    1. Dan! I'm hoping you'll write about how your trip went! I've been wondering... I still wish I could pick my sister up from her mission when she gets home (in April! I'm DYING!).

      Thanks for your nice words. There have been some heavy things going on at our house lately, and I've been writing my way through them. This too shall pass? *sigh* Yes.