What I Need

As I read Harriet's post the other day, I started thinking about my own path... my What I Need For Recovery.

It's different for everyone because WE are different.  I was raised by a mother who had severe brain trauma she was recovering from and a workaholic father... both VERY good people.  Both Salt of the Earth kind of people.
Not everyone had my parents.  In fact, only 5 other people in the entire world do.  Even then, they all handle things differently than I do.  And everyone's ways are okay.  Everyone's path is okay.

My husband's path is okay.
My path is okay.
Even if they don't intersect as much as I'd like or as much as he'd like... they're okay.

My path involves four keys -here they are in no particular order:

1) Education on addiction and trauma. This means I study and read what feels right in my gut.  If I see an article online that addresses addiction, I look at the headline and wait for my gut to tell me if it's for me or not.  I read books.  I feed my brain truth

2) Spiritual Healing -I meet with my Bishop every two weeks and he asks me hard questions like, "Are you reading your scriptures?"  His guidance and inspiration gives me a sense of balance in everything.  Bishop aside, I'm learning to apply the Atonement.  The Atonement has been life-changing for me.

3) Physical Healing -Counseling, Yoga, Detox Baths, Good Music, Essential Oils... you get the picture.

4) Working the 12-Steps with a sponsor.

The 12-steps are vital for me because I DO have issues.  I have a lot of deep-rooted problems stemming from my childhood, my thought processes, belief systems, and my character weaknesses.  I had them before I met Danny.
When I was engaged to Danny, he told me he had a problem with pornography.  There were red-flag behaviors that I dismissed.

Because I believed I could fix it.

I believed I could change him.

I believed I would be enough to completely save him.

I believed I was the Savior, and as such had no need of the Only True Living Savior.

Before any of the trauma really hit me, ALREADY I was fixing him.  Already, I put myself higher than him and his sins.  Already, I was co-dependent and never once really dependent on God.  I relied wholly on my own mind and abilities, controlling absolutely everything I could with Google and my hard-earned country muscles.  My own mind was enough for me.  (Oh, to be 18 again.  What a laugh.)

I had grown up believing I was a bother to God -and anyway, I could deal with my little problems myself.  They were mine, and it was irresponsible to ask anyone else (including God) to handle them.

Proud, tough, strong... so young.

The 12-steps gradually opened an entirely new world for me -one that teaches me that I'm mortal and in need of an atoning sacrifice, in which I can find

Humility, Compassion, and Meekness...

When I surrender my tough mortal mind and heart to God, he hands me strength beyond anything earthly.  It's HIS strength.

So yes, I'm codependent.
And yes, I have issues that need addressing through therapy and 12-step work.
Yes, I've been traumatized.
Yes, I'm physically ill as well.

And no.  I will not give up the fight, no matter how much it burns, no matter the consequences that come from facing this Self in the mirror, no matter the voices of fear and doubt and despair.

I have my God.
I have my support.
I have what it takes.

I don't know what anyone else needs, but I know what I need.  I know my own faulty belief system and patterns.

I'm even beginning to know myself, which is the greatest blessing above all... there is true beauty not in spite of my flaws, but IN them. 

New Year Valentines

This month, the only Valentines you get are from Yours Truly.
I'd apologize, but it's your own fault, really.  Because you didn't SEND any, shweetheard (I say that in my very best 1920s mafia voice).

(Here's a link about the Valentine's Project.)

(That picture loaded really awful... it isn't nearly so lightened or grainy in my file.  Wonder why?)

Satan is a User

In exciting news this Thorsday (that's what my son calls it), my husband has a featured blog post!  This whole blogging thing is really new to him, and he really put himself out there (yay, vulnerability!) by writing this post.  Check it out -my buttons are popping.  CLICK HERE. And keep in mind that he didn't choose the picture.  Just wanted to throw that out there...

Satan uses souls.
Satan is a taker.

Satan even uses Jesus.  He uses Jesus against you.

Would Jesus have acted that way?
Would Jesus have spoken that way?

What comes after those awful hissings?  Guilt, shame, loathing...  everything Satan bathes in.

There is mercy for me.
I am infantile in my knowledge.  I'm doing what I can with what I know.  Jesus did what He could with what He knew, which was a LOT more than Alicia knows. 

The Lord knows that.  I know that.  Satan knows that, but he doesn't care.  He doesn't care because he's a user. and a taker.  and a tosser.

Can I just commission that bumper sticker right now? 

The Who

My mom used to always tell me, "If I could give my kids one gift, it would be confidence."

She always wanted to raise confident kids.  I thought it was sweet, and it made my chest swell to hear her say it... kind of like I mattered enough to her that she desired gifts for me.

Now I have three kids of my own, and I'd like to take my mother's idea and say, "If I could give my kids one gift, it would be to know exactly WHO they are."

I never truly understood who I was growing up.  I sought validation from everyone and everything around me.  I wanted others to approve of me, even if it meant shoving down my intuition.  Relationships were formed on what others had to offer me (validation, praise, approval), not out of pure love.

I watched others from a distance who were amazing at forming relationships.  They didn't seem fazed by what the other thought of them, nor did they invest wasted time into wondering if they were "enough" for the relationship.  These people also seemed to have a knack for investing in themselves and doing acts of service.  They developed their own talents and skills and in turn seemed naturally more aware of others' needs.

It baffled me -I could see what I wanted, but I was at a total loss as to THE HOW of arriving there.

I tried.  Oh, how I tried.  I tried to form normal relationships with boys that wasn't riddled with trying to get them to like me, trying to be beautiful enough.  I tried to form relationships with girls that didn't involve me self-sacrificing the crap out of myself to try and somehow fit in.

I had one friend -one lasting true friend -who always showed me the greatest example of this.  I watched her for years wondering how she did it, how she seemed to naturally connect with others no matter their age, race, or physical appearance.  How did she do it?  What's more, how did she continue a relationship with ME so lovingly?  I could be so selfish, so self-interested, so shallow.  She never was.
The truth is, I think, that she loved me.  I never had to earn anything, it was simply just there.  She loves a lot of people, and she's genuine about it all.

It's becoming very clear to me that she's always had more of an understanding about who she is -a daughter of God, a daughter of a King, a literal royal traversing her way through a brief mortal test.

When that fact is understood down deep in my soul, I make different choices.  I don't worry about what others' may or may not think... not only do I not care, I don't give it a second thought.  I make choices that matter: whether that's holding a sick baby or investing in God-given interests, or acting on a prompting.  Life simplifies, and I feel peace.

But that isn't all.
The greatest blessing that's springing from understanding who I truly am is that I see OTHERS for who they truly are as well.  The "less than" and "better than" feelings I've battled for a lifetime are beginning to dissipate.  The beggar woman on the street is suddenly no longer an object, but a sister with a name... and a hot meal, if I can help it.  The celebrities on the screen seem more real, more human, and I find myself feeling equal to them... not in the way society would hold us, but in the way God sees us: children.

Coming to understand this is not a one time "big bang" kind of gift.  It's a life long quest riddled with trials, joys, choices, mistakes, learning, and holy communication with my Father.

And if I could give my kids one gift, it would simply be to have them know WHO THEY ARE.  And I'm pretty sure confidence would follow suit.

At this point in my journey, I'm really enjoying the fruits of spending some time on my own interests.  With Danny's recent disclosure, being true to myself is of paramount importance.  Though it's a work in progress, I've fairly thrown myself into developing my Etsy shop, Kitchen Scratch.  The more I work on it and with it, the more I want to scream to others -seriously GO AND DO what makes you tick, friend!  Each time I finish I project, I feel so good!  I could care less if anything sells because I'm having so much fun.
I set two boundaries for myself with this shop:
1) If I ever felt panic or pressure, I will step away from the shop for as long as it takes.
2) I will make and sell what I love, not what I think others will love.

The more I let myself go and really find antiques and colors and ideas that make my heart soar, the better I feel.  I'm less stressed when I know I'm doing what I should be doing at this point in my life.  Writing, crocheting, digging through antique stores to find treasures!  It's really rewarding, and I'm finding more of myself. 
You should go and do what makes you tick.  Like, now.

 

One of my Christmas gifts from Danny.  And I don't know why, but I feel like I need to tell you I'm wearing a nude undershirt... It looks like skin, but it's not.  Swearsies. 

 

An Inside Job

Years ago in a fit of anger, I accused my husband of loving himself more than me and more than God.  It was wrong of me, but I was hurting so much... it was the only explanation I could come up with for why he rejected me.
Because I wasn't loveable enough to him.

Yesterday I stayed home from work with a sick son.  I had the entire day to STAY HOME.  It was like old times!  I could all of the things I'd been wanting to do but had been too tired! 
So you know what I did?  I crocheted on the couch.

I didn't clean.  I didn't work out.  I didn't dive into any great projects.  I just made hot pads.

One month ago (almost exactly) my husband read his disclosure, and at that time my favorite pair of pants fits wonderfully.  One little month later, I tired to slide them on and it was a BATTLE.  I'm gaining weight, my house is embarrassing.  One toilet is broken and I haven't bothered fixing it. 

I feel like a very fragile person, easily overwhelmed.

As I sat on the couch and looked around my dirty house, I tried to figure out why I wasn't cleaning it. 

The solid truth is: I deserve clean surroundings.  I deserve to have a working toilet in the bathroom.  I deserve new bath towels that aren't frayed.  I deserve fresh air, yoga, and freshly cut flowers on my table.  I deserve good filling food, and I deserve to fit into my favorite pants.

What is holding me back from giving myself these deserved circumstances? 
The answer is awful, guys... I don't love myself enough.  I just don't.  Not right now.  Not today.

Right now I'm gaining weight, I'm tired.  I really am "living one day at at time," just trying to make it to my bed each night. 

And while I know deep down that I deserve better than I'm giving myself, I still find myself overwhelmed at the prospect of proper self-care.
I'm hurting so much right now, going through so many raw ans awful emotions, experiencing powerful triggers -more powerful than I've ever grappled with -and honestly, proper self care would be a full time job right now.  At least 8 hours a day of cooking good food, going for walks, writing, creating!

But I have three kids and a part time job. 

And this is all crappy right now. 

I'm glad I can see reality, see what it is I'm really dealing with, but this is just really crappy.  I don't want to go back to knowing less.  I definitely want to move forward.

And today my prayer is simply, "help me love myself enough to give myself the simple things I deserve."

Coming to grips with the fact that I've had to earn love in my marriage has been harrowing.  I don't want to earn it, I want to just HAVE it.  I want simply to BE LOVED because I'm Alicia.
And it starts right here.  I don't have to earn love for myself.  I can just love me because I'm me.

I think it's called An Inside Job.
Those are hard.

Detaching From Detaching

I detached from my husband a lot over the years.

He wasn't safe, our marriage wasn't safe, a situation wasn't safe... so I'd detach and lay a brick down.  A few days later, I'd step over the brick and back into my relationship with my husband.  And then he'd go into addict mode, and I'd detach and lay a brick down.

It was a comfortable pattern.  My wall grew thick and strong.  It got to the point where if I wanted to step over it and get back into our relationship, I had to REALLY try hard.  And I would try hard, and then I would get hurt.  So I would catapult myself over the wall and add 90 million bricks, covered in "Alicia How Could You Be So STUPID?!?" tears.

Behind my wall was a wonderful world filled with everything I loved and had forgotten: my crochet hooks, my empty grid-paper journal, my hunger to learn and do more!
I dumped myself into that world and discovered that -oh my HECK, I am really fun!  Vivacious, colorful, imaginative, silly, crazy, creative!
I had this moment standing there behind my wall with my arms full of kittens, crayons, and musical instruments... I wanted to share it with someone older than the age of 6.

And that someone is my husband.
Even after all the hurts, the lies, the betrayal, the MUCK... I love him and I want him in my life.

So I did something very Alicia-ish.  I took a drill and took it to the wall.  I am CRAZY with tools.  Not crazy good... just CRAZY.
I peaked through the hole and saw him standing there.

He was doing rottenly mean things, and I watched.  I didn't feel a thing.
Something inside sort of wanted me to feel, but my wall was doing her job and I felt nothing but apathy... if it's possible to actually FEEL apathetic.
I left my tiny drilled hole and went about my business, writing, playing, crafting, cooking!  I learned a few new skills, I discovered Pinterest, I worked my own recovery.
Now and then I'd return to the wall and peak out. 

Sometimes he'd come to the wall and knock.
Sometimes I'd call out to him through the hole.

Sometimes I wanted to make the hole bigger, but fear kept me from doing it.
Sometimes I filled in the hole and cried myself to sleep.

The Wall stood proudly between us always.

But then something happened... and that something is his Step 1 Inventory.

When we were first married, my husband kicked my toenail off by accident.  Except it didn't come alllll the way off.  It left a weird stubborn stub just... THERE.  That toe was such a pain in my life.  I couldn't touch it.  I couldn't bump it.  I had to really watch other people's kicks around my precious toe.  I tried nursing it, clipping it back, painting over it.  It grew back in deformed and thick.  I limped around on it for YEARS.  YEARS!  Until one sweet day when I was dancing with my husband last year... and he finally kicked if off FOR GOOD.  It hurt like mad for a few weeks, and today I have a wonderful new toe nail and no pain.
The nail has been taken off for good.

It's uncanny how that toe mirrors my marriage.  The Step 1 Inventory finally ripped the deformed marriage OUT of it's place.

I kept myself safe from my deformed marriage because I had a wall, but as I found myself... as I came to know that I AM A LITERAL DAUGHTER OF GOD, My Father, King, Savior, Ruler and Prince of Peace... I became strong!  I became confident and sure.  And I became comfidentally SURE that I didn't want a deformed marriage anymore.

With my wall in place, I had separated from my marriage.  By abusing me, my husband had ceased to really BE a husband.  Our children were unfortunate floaters in the mess of it all, running around with boots on the wrong feet and ketchup on their faces -seemingly oblivious.

And suddenly, I was through being through with my marriage.

If my husband looked at porn, I WANTED to feel the pain and the hurt.  I AM HIS WIFE, for crying out loud.  It SHOULD hurt!  I wanted to feel the anguish that comes from rejection, the heart break of NO INTIMATE CONNECTION.  I wanted to let the emotions rise up and out and through and around, and I wanted to tell my husband how I felt.  I wanted to be SEEN for the first time in my marriage -truly seen for who I am (a daughter) and what I love (creating).

I did not want a wall to keep me safe from my own husband.

 So I used my tools and I tore the wall down, and there I stood... vulnerable and wincing and ready to go on a few dates with my husband.

I want him to need me for who I am and what I can do as a woman and as an Alicia.
I want to need him for who he is and what he can do (dishes) (just kidding) (but seriously).

I'm ready to detach from detaching and embrace my new pattern of recovery which I like to call...

Vulnerable, Honest, Living complete with the Surrender Process.

And while I'm settling into a very hard, messy place, I will say this: I love it in the same way I love pushing my physical body to health.  It's hard but there's a purpose for it.

But somehow no matter how I live whether behind a wall with A Few of My Favorite Things or in front of a wall with ALL of My Favorite Things, the kids still have their boots on the wrong feet.
I take comfort in their constancy. 

Sickly

Wives of Porn Addicts are not all created equal.

Each situation is different, each woman unique.  There are common threads, but in the end we all find our own, individual way. 

But I am a little bothered by one common thread, guys.  It keeps popping up here and there... as I spoke with my sponsor about it, she said something I will never forget.
"This addiction kills women."
"Women" meaning "wives." 

She wasn't being dramatic or exaggerating.  She wasn't kidding.  She was being straight and honest and encouraging me to TAKE CARE OF MY PHYSICAL BODY.

The addiction changes the brains of the addicts and makes the loved ones physically ill.
When I hit my rock bottom, I weighed 152 which is what I weighed before I got pregnant with my first child.
ONE YEAR LATER, I weighed 162.
One year after that, I finally started working out again.  And then I got pregnant.  Today I top the scales around 170 something.
I'm 5'8" which helps.  I have places to carry the weight.

I could deal with the weight, honestly (even if my daughter keeps poking my belly and asking about the baby inside, of which there IS NONE).  But there's so many other debilitating issues that I've been ignoring for years.

I hurt.  I hurt everywhere.  My joints ache, I'm weak, I bloat easily.  I have to work really hard to simply make it through the day.  I'm tired.  I've begun getting migraine headaches out of nowhere. 

It seems wildly unfair to endure so much stress, heartache and pain AND HAVE TO WORK OUT AND EAT CELERY.
Seriously.

I get triggered when I work out because of body image issues that have stemmed from this addiction.
I get triggered when my husband makes innocent comments about eating healthy.

This is all so stupid, guys.  It's stupid and hard and the only thing that makes it better is chocolate.

That isn't true.  The only thing that makes it better is the Savior, but I'm sabotaging my body with chocolate, trying to convince myself that I'm independent... that I can medicate myself thankyouverymuch.
"A false sense of independence" as one of our valiant apostles recently said (can't remember which one).

Part of me doesn't want to be fully thin because I'm afraid it will trigger me.  The rolls are real.  They keep me safe from being lusted after.  If I keep a few rolls, he will love me only for who I am, right?

I know I said this already, but this is ALL SO STUPID.

I just want to know... if you're a wife, have you been physically affected by the addiction?  Are you sick?

My sponsor sent out a plea to me, "Please take care of yourself."  And I want to, but it's overwhelming.  I'm scared.  I don't feel like I can FULLY DO IT.  There's fight in me for other stuff, but when it comes to my body, I'm terrified to take it on.  It's so broken.  It's hurting. 

After my husband read his step one inventory to me, I lied face down on a massage table and I CRIED.  I sobbed.  She stopped massaging me long enough to poke a tissue in my hand.  I imagine it wasn't her first rodeo with a crying client on her table.
"Alicia," she said to me, "It's gotten to the point that you don't have any choice but to take care of yourself now.  Your body is breaking down under the stress."

I'm angry because I feel like it isn't my fault.  I want to blame my husband for my weight gain, my aching joints, my hurting, my migraines, my job, my dirty house that is swallowing me WHOLE.

But there's a very brave girl underneath my desire to blame, and she'll pop up soon.  Right now, the best I can do is pray and try and surrender all of this to God.