With Love

I locked you all out for awhile.

It started out from a healthy place... really and truly.  My blog was found by some folk who don't agree with the way I'm living my life, and I shut it down simply to stave off the crazy traffic surge.
"Forty days," I told myself, "A Forty-day break should do it."
During which time I committed myself to a 40-day yoga program (Baron Baptiste) and spent a lot of time re-centering.
The words from The Folks Who Found Me haunted me during this time.  Because, see, they think I'm wrong.
I have a grave fear of being wrong.

I didn't realize how deep this fear ran until I was on the mat during those 30+ days (I didn't finish the program on account of family issues).  As I moved from week-to-week, from position to position, I said to myself, "Alicia, you're doing this wrong."

Alicia, you are bending your knees and you shouldn't.
Alicia, you can't touch your feet and you should.
Alicia, your feet...
Alicia, your hands...

I would try to release tension, mind talk and my own schedule.
Even then, all I could do was, "Alicia, you're not letting go, and you should."

I know you all have an answer for me right now.  I know that my "shoulding" is wrong, and if I had a penny for every person who said, "don't should on yourself" I'd have at least 20 cents.

As I stepped off my mat and went to my kitchen to eat and wash dishes:
Alicia, you're eating wrong.
Alicia, you're washing wrong.
Alicia, couldn't you be cleaner?  healthier?

At work:
Alicia, you could be more efficient.

At the store:
Alicia, you could be saving money better, but you're not.

I have a deep-rooted fear that I'm going to live wrong, and isn't that silly?  Because isn't living wrong a given?  We ALL do it! We are all blessed with weaknesses that are our own uniquely carved pathways leading upward to God!  And don't we know it!  We feel EV.ER.Y step of that uphill incline!

Long story short:
The folks who found my blog took to a forum to discuss exactly what they thought about the way 'm handling things.  And even after I locked my blog down, they shared screen shots they'd taken.

I have spent HOURS surrendering.  And yes:
Alicia, you're feeling this wrong.  If you really believed what you're living, their words wouldn't touch you.

Ouch,Self.

I can argue their points.  I can.  I could apply myself with fervor to their assumptions and perceptions, fight back!  But you know what?  Yeah, you know what, so say it with me, "It doesn't matter."  They can believe what they want, they can say what they want, for it is given unto them.  But one things that rang true time and time again was simply this:

My people are Love People.
They come together to heal and to share.  They uplift, they strengthen.  They say hard things to me, but never out of spite... only out of love.  Christ lived the same way, saying hard things out of love.  And we have to do hard things when we love ourselves.
Please understand that right now in my life, 8 hours of sleep, three meals, and exercise all in one day is VERY hard, but it is the LOVING thing for me to do for me.

The words spoken by The Folks Who Found Me were so hate-filled, so filled with sarcasm and contempt.  It was that very hate that saved me.

There is no truth in hate.
There is no God in hate.
God is truth.
God is love.

I am love.
The Folks Who Found Me are also love, though they aren't feeling it right now.

I will say now that instead of unlocking my blog when I felt I should, I kept it locked out of fear.
Except for that one time when I unlocked it for 5 minutes and locked it again.  I conquered fear for almost 5 full minutes!
Tonight, I'm logging back in from a place of love.  My blog following is very small, my web presence inconsequential.

I don't want to be known or found or shared or loud.
I was a small, tucked away house-by-the-river, barefoot in the kitchen kind of life.

God wants me to share my life anyway.  As soon as I could talk, I shared.
It's a painful thing and a scary thing and sometimes a much-hated thing, but I know how arguing with God goes...
So at the mercy of Him, I'm back.

There is a grand chance I'll be hit with more pain, more doubt and much more opposition.
But God is with me.
Namaste.

Like Sunday Morning

I'm easy.

I realized it this morning when I was mentally prepping for a Bishop's Training.  I was thinking of the outline Danny and I had typed up together, the prayer that had gone into our planning... and I wondered how it would go.  I began anticipating questions, trying to relax, praying that I'd let the Lord speak through me without ME getting in the way.

I thought about this blog.
I thought about how I've only told three of my real life friends about it.
I thought about how I don't seem to mind people I don't know personally reading my blog about my very intimate life, but I draw the line at my mother.
It's kind of strange, isn't it?

I thought about how 7 years ago, NO ONE knew what was going on in our marriage.
I thought about how 5 years ago, I finally told one person.
And then three years ago, I finally told my parents.
Each time I told anyone about it, I was petrified beyond belief -terrified of the repercussions at home.  I was a'feared Danny would reject me, and the thought of rejection made me physically ill.
Even just a year ago, a few of my siblings didn't even know what was going on.  I was dying to ask my grandmother (who had divorced a sex addict) how she had come to forgive and move on, but I just couldn't... I was TERRIFIED of Danny -I felt responsible for managing my family's perception of him.
One day, I was visiting with her on the phone and it just... spilled out.  I was DYING to know.
I NEEDED to know.
For days afterward, my stomach churned.
What if I messed up?  What if I said something that clued her in?  Tipped her off?
What if she KNEW?

I felt like I was in 5th grade, wearing a bra for the first time... my eyes darting back and forth, wondering WHO COULD TELL I was wearing a (bra).

This morning, I sat next to my husband as he took me surprise and opened up with his story to a Bishop that wasn't his.
His hands shook, but his voice was firm.
He was brave.
Shame was not allowed in the room -not with my husband boldly going forward with shaking hands and a pure heart.

Could it have been just a mere year ago that I was taken physically ill by the THOUGHT of someone knowing our story?

The difference is simply this: I will tell my story where it will make a difference and not where it will prove fodder for drama and gossip.

I'm telling this because I want to take this opportunity to give you permission -because a few of you have asked -to please share my blog where it will make a difference and NOT where it will draw any kind of pitiful attention.
Anyone who will read this and say, "That poor girl..." is not invited to this party.
Anyone who will read this and say, "She knows... thank God in Heaven.  She KNOWS" has VIP status at this party.

We handed our contact info over to the Bishop with similar instructions -if you're working with ANYONE who knows this pain, we would love to simply look in their eyes and appreciate their understanding and empathy.

My blog isn't the kind of blog to be shared on facebook walls, but it is the kind to be private messaged to those you feel prompted to share it with.

And I will also quickly and simply add: if you know me personally and have been reading my blog without my realizing it, please let me know.  Just message me or text me or call me or come over.

Connection means the world to me.  One of my greatest fears is loneliness.
I can handle being left alone (I've actually fought TOOTH AND NAIL for alone time on occasion), but I can not handle FEELING ALONE.

Where I'm at in my little hometown, I often feel very alone.  So if you know me at all, don't ever hesitate to say, "I've been reading.  I know your struggles."

After months of fighting to overcome debilitating fear in this area, I have finally reached an easy place.
On a beautiful Sunday morning.