Got Behind, Back on Track

So I got a little behind in my goals. Good thing I know how to pick myself back up on my feet.

Last week was supposed to be at least one sincere prayer a day. While I wish I could say I already do that I can't guarantee it and it feels like cheating if I just skip over it. So this week will be one-sincere-prayer-a-day week.

In addition to...

Calorie week.

Ugh

Actually, I'm wondering if I should hold of on this one. I have a Writing Retreat this week and the school will be in charge of the food. But then I would just say anything counts as an excuse.

Pros of doing it anyway.

It gets done
I'll have practiced my self control skills
Feel good about self
Lots of hiking plus calorie reduction = weight loss.

Cons

The hills are not like your hometown. You dehydrate a lot quicker and lose energy faster. I tried to fast while camping once. Super bad idea. I nearly passed out from the experience and I'm not one to pass out.
Little to no control of my food


Sigh....

I think what I'll do is I'll make this a two week experience. Since I have that new rule that says I can quite a new habit if I don't like it or don't have time for it, it would be too easy to just fluff this one because of the Retreat.

So this week and next week I'll have two habits to work on and then go back to one habit the following week.


How am I doing?

Pretty steady actually. I was a bit depressed a couple of days back due to the weather but my roommates soon picked up my spirits and I was able to defy doom and gloom. Take that nature.

Bishop and I have been talking. Apparently, my addiction is a "threshold" addiction. It's still an addiction that could lead to worse things. So it's not bad, not great, but not bad, with a lot of attention and work I could still overcome this addiction fairly easily granting that my inner-self really wants to and believes it can. I'm not entirely chained down yet by the addiction, just by length of time.

What do I mean by threshold addiction? It's my term, so don't ask your psychologist. I'll try to explain it.

You know how those really bad addictions don't just happen? There's a level of addiction that precludes it. I'm no psychologist but I think this is kind of how it works. A young child is exposed to immodesty. He discovers he likes to look at it and looks for more and more skimpy attire to recreate that first "whohoo" feeling. But just like cocaine you'll never recreate the first loss of innocence.

Soon the child, now grown a bit, regularly sees porn to please himself. His pleasure side of the brain becomes super developed, cementing in the addiction he's so far completely unaware of. He is regularly releasing hormones into his brain that work on his development much in the same way cocaine would. Soon, seeing porn in all its forms isn't enough, he finds a way to experience it first hand. Now the decision processes of the brain (which have been sort-changed due to the over-growth of the pleasure receptors of the brain) still have some control so the young man doesn't become a raving sex beast...usually. That is, until he decides that finding willing partners is to much work and doesn't give results quick enough and brothels are too expensive.

Now here we have the ten percent of men who use their decision processes to hold them back, anything more would be socially unacceptable. Some by this point don't care and continue to wither that decision part of the brain until finally they persuade themselves that all women are just like them. They think that women want to have sex as much as they do but are held back by cultural ties. Why shouldn't they explore everything the sex world has to offer? Thus, the boy grows into a rapist. The worst form this particular addiction can produce. This effect can be aggravated through other decision inhibiting addictions, drugs, alcohol, and video games (When something pleasing becomes more important than people, you know it's rotting your decision processes.) Under such toxins the frontal cortex has no chance. That's not an excuse for anybody, it just explains why.

So that's what I mean by levels. Just a disclaimer, healthy relationships are healthy because it isn't all about sex and you care more about your partner than pleasing yourself.

I'm never going to tell you what my addiction is because that's between me and God. But I can tell you that I'm still at the first stages and that wasn't without a lot of hard work.

I can understand now why the morality of this country is so withered now that I've wrote the sex addiction process down. The media is trying to recreate that first "whohoo" through more and more explicit images. Because the collective bought it so how can we create something better that they would buy? So the collective culture is becoming a sex addict that socially decrees that its ok to have sex with your boyfriend or best-friend. Totally makes sense now. Don't agree with it, but it makes sense.

Why don't I agree?

A few reasons. Some spiritual some physical.

Physical

STD's weren't nearly so well spread until the 60's and 70's, just saying. It's like dandelions. It wouldn't be such a problem if people would just stick with the same partner.
Why go through the drama of possible pregnancies, heart break, and feeling used? Sowing your wild oats is just asking for too much drama during a stressful development time of life.
Sex is like duct-tape. The first time you put it on your arm it fits perfectly. Try to rip it off and put it back on it's not such a perfect fit. Sex with only one guy your whole life fits the best. Keep changing partners and nothing really fits as well as that first time. (Explicit ADD: Maybe that's why some people need all the toys and think bigger is better?)

Spiritual

Sex is the perfect blending of two souls. Something that sacred should only be done with one other person.
The purpose is to bring forth children. Sex isn't a selfish act, but a selfless desire to create and raise children. Children are God's first, yours second. And raising them in righteousness is a sacred duty. The marriage between a man and a woman is a sacred commitment to care for each other for eternity, and also to open the gateway for other spirits to get a chance at learning on earth with the support system of a family.

(On that note: this is why I don't agree with same-sex marriage. Marriage is the union formed for the purpose of creating children. Without medical help it is impossible for gay couples to procreate. I don't know, I just think the whole idea is really selfish. That which we call a rose by any other name...)

Wow, talk about your tangents. I think I'm done now.

Hygiene, Boys, and the Temple Trip

So the previous week of writing for fifteen minutes a day did ok. I only had time for two days, but still, better than never. One thing I'll be grateful for once I've graduated is that I'll finally have time for creative inspiration. And by having time, I mean less stress.

People say adult life is just as stressful as college. I disagree on the point that you can leave work at work and home at home. In school the stress of homework follows you home and nags at your free time. Jobs don't do that usually. Case made.

As for my next challenge. Well, lets just say it's up to individual opinion on whether or not I throw in a freebee for myself every once in a while.

I want to be clean. I will not skip any small portion of daily personal hygiene.

Oh like you've never skipped or skimped hygiene before!

I just know that over all emotions feel better when I feel clean and pretty is all. It's not like I have issues with it anymore, long past that stage, but it's tempting when I'm depressed to go baggy and unwashed.

PS: in case anyone's notices that these aren't exactly a Sunday only post thing that's because sometimes I just run out of time. The goal is to get it in at least once a week though.

This last week kinda sucked actually. I made my sister cry, twice, and got so emotionally distraught that I skipped a class and took the afternoon off. What I really wanted to do was run away (better than self-harm but not as good as standing up and facing the issue).

Really, it was all over a stupid Fall roommate situation misunderstanding. Hopefully it'll sort itself out but for now she and I are not talking about it.

In other news, I really really really want to see Brave and the Avengers. The Avengers because they've already done such a fantastic job leading up to this movie with previous movies. And Brave because of one trailer where the big massive dad says, "Pretend I'm Merida, speak to me. *big inhale* I don't want to get married I want to stay single and let my hair flow in the wind as I ride threw the glen firing arrows into the sunset." goofy grin plus raise eyebrows. Stikin' hilarious. :D

In other news I was majorly boy-crazy all semester up until yesterday. Now, I just don't care anymore. I'm having far too much fun being single and free right now to worry about it too much. I can climb trees, burp my a,b,cs and let my hair get as wild as I please (within hygienic reason which is easy with curly hair.) Besides, between school, work, homework, training, and exercise who has time for boys as more than friends or dear acquaintances? I enjoy these relationships much more anyway because I can actually say something intelligent when I'm not thinking, "oh my jaw, oh my pecks, oh my goodness he's such a nice gentleman what I can say to such a pillar of the male species? I am not worthy to even open my lips he's so hot!"

Enough said.

It's just so much more comfortable to think of them as friends first and I figure when the right one comes around everything will just click so fast I won't even have time to get into that worry state too much. And it better click quick otherwise our conversation can only have "uh, duh" as its most intelligent phrasing.

I'm so glad it's light and warm these days. It's put such a shine on my mood.

I love my roommates. They are so good and kind and sincere and free with compliments that we all just end up laughing every night or comforting the one who had a bad day. I just love it. No need to rush this point in life, there's too much adventure to be had first.

Like the Temple trip for example. Planned to wake up early and then found myself snoozing at 5:30 in the morning when we were supposed to be up the hill at 6. Rushed to get dress then made a mad dash up the hill. Never ran up this hill so much in my life. I cut a usual twenty minute walk down to ten minutes and made it on time. Coughing because running in the cold will do that to you, but on time. It was a great experience. I'm going to try to see when I can go once a week.

I read a passage of scripture while I was in there. 3 Nephi 9:13,

"O all ye that are spared...will ye not now return unto me, and repend of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?"

I have been spared so many times I've lost count. Sin of omission is really easy for me. I don't really study the scriptures and I still have doubt and I certainly have been scared due to my addiction. I don't care if it makes sense to anyone else. It spoke to me. And its the primary reason why I'm going to try to go the Temple once a week. Maybe this, more than anything before, will help to heal me from my sin.

Temple Glow

K, so I'm a week behind. So what?

Scripture study was easy to keep up the week I was doing it. I haven't touched them for the last three days though so...oops.

I owe mom 5 bucks because last week I didn't have a single day where I only had one snack. Hey, I was hungry. So I'm starting my calorie count thing a little early. By the time it comes up I hope I'm into practice.

This week is "write 15 minutes every day." Already excited.

I'm going to modify the rules a little though. There's no way that I can do everything every day in my habit goals. Some things really only take five seconds, others take longer. Besides the whole idea is to make good things that I've always wished I was good at a higher probability option for when I have time to do something fun or relax or just feel good about life. And what if one of my habits turns out to be something I really hate doing? How miserable would that be to have to keep it up for 52 weeks. This is not just about snacking, but an understanding that good eating is a long term habit that's going to take a while to develop.

So the five dollar penalty will only count for the week the habit is implemented.

In other news...

I bought a little water fountain from Walmart cause 1.) I've always wanted one and it was only 4 bucks, and 2.) The sound/feel/smell of water always calms me down. I like it already.

Biggest Winner has started and by default I'm the head trainer of the pink team. I can only make Friday workouts, but I plan to stay in touch with my team via e-mail. They're all excited and they all want to win. So I'm excited too. They're also my motivation to move up my calorie counting thing. I want to be a good example and nutrition is my Achilles heel when it comes to weight loss and good health. So, lets see what happens.

As of right now (1:20 p.m.) I've had 1000 calories even from cereal, pb sandwich, cake, and a stick of gum. It would have been 595 without the cake and gum. (Leave me alone, it's my birthday :D alright, the 24th was my birthday we just didn't get around to making a cake until yesterday. And yes, it was yummy.)

I'm submitting for the Creative Writing Retreat which is a weekend getaway to the wild to just write. I'm excited and nervous, but I think I might get in.

I've had the most pimple free period of my life. Thank you Oxy!

I'm flirting with boys...and retreating when they seem interested. But the interest is the important thing!

The Bishop told me that the only thing required for desire is the movement toward change. Not the lack of desire to not relapse into an addiction.

My poor friend got lonely and thought it was a good idea to sleep with a guy. She hasn't really spoken to me since she last called. I think I might have crossed a line. To be fair I was heart-broken that she made that choice when we'd been working so hard to go the right direction. I asked her if she'd been working on her desire to change. She said yes, but there's a part of me that wonders if she only knows how to be a victim. This was before I talked to the bishop about desire and I have since texted and apologized. But I still haven't heard from her. I'm kinda worried actually. But I also know she's the kind of person to be angry easily and blame irrationally. I could easily see her taking out her guilt on me by not talking to me because of what I said. Hope she's ok anyway.

Let's see, there was one other thing...now what was it...?

Oh yea!

I get to go to the TEMPLE!!!

This Sunday's meeting with the bishop started with him asking me who I thought I was and what I wanted to improve. I thought, "I want to be the sort of person a good guy could love." But I couldn't say it. I've never had a boyfriend, only twice had a guy pretty interested and they both ended in disasters. Besides, I needed a special fellow who'd be willing to wait for me to be clean enough for a temple marriage.

To avoid that tear jerking thought I said instead that I wanted to be the kind of person who could go to the Temple. The bishop kind of looked at me funny and said, "Who told you you couldn't?"

I was like, um...I'm an addict? That's why I'm visiting you?

He told me that unless some bishop has taken my recommend from me there was absolutely no reason that I couldn't go. In fact, I probably had all the more reason to go because of my struggles. I needed that spiritual connection.

I was bawling within seconds. I don't know how many young men/young women temple trips I missed because I thought I wasn't worthy to enter the Lord's house. (Part of my lonely past.) One time that I did go I remember hearing a story in the waiting room where supposedly a Temple official had asked for an unclean party to leave a Temple session. I was always scared that that would happen to me. I always thought that I wouldn't be able to get married right away.

Even when I couldn't go, I would find my feet leading me to the Temple and many times I've taken time to walk around it's walls and talk one-on-one to God. It always made me feel better. I know you don't necessarily need to physically walk around a Temple to talk to God. But it's the knowledge that it's His house that helps with the connection.

Even though Bishops in the past have told me that it might be good if I didn't go. I think what they were really saying was that it was up to me. They never took my recommend away. I've always keep a current one tucked into my scripture bag. Just in case.

We have a ward trip planned this week. I'm going, monthly or no, I am so going. I've never been so excited. I feel like I need to make up for lost time. Maybe I should schedule a Temple date everyday of the week? Or make Saturday mornings a several hour Temple time?

I don't know if that would be wise to do to my stress levels, tight schedules always get my hackles raised and there's a reason I can't be with my team all the time, but if I can do it I really want to.

That was seriously the best news of my life.

Things that Have Helped Me to Combat My Addiction

This is the almost chronological sequence of events that have led me to where I am today. "Almost" because I have no idea when I chose start doing some things and whole thing began long before I can remember. My path was a hard one, full of tears and regrets, but looking back, I know all those things had to happen in this order for me to come to the state that I am at today.

First and foremost, I realized that I was not my addiction. My particular issues did not make up the sum of who I was

Knowing that I made an effort to do good and be good in all other areas of my life. I'm not perfect, but since a child I always strove to be honest with my fellow man. I don't cheat, I don't steal, I prayed at least twice a day even if it wasn't sincere. I loved my family, friends, neighbors, and even some enemies. More importantly I chose to avoid, like the plague, anything else that could be considered possibly addictive. Because my mother once told me that once you're addicted to something it's so easy to become addicted to something else.

Once you become an addict of one vice, you really don't want to add more. Which meant that I chose at at young age to not gamble, drink alcohol, smoke or consume any strange pills and especially avoid pornography. I never had an energy drink and shun the very thought of a 5 hour energy shot. (It helped that my Dad was a salesman. I shun anything that sounds too good to be true or says it'll make me do something like lose weight or have energy. Because I know it only lasts as long as I consume the product and once I stop I'll be worse of than I was before. So I'd rather do it on my own power thank you.) I wasn't perfect, but I thought that if I had to bear this particular addictive cross of sin then I would do my absolute best in all other areas of my life. It helped that I had an understanding and loving mother to whom I feel comfortable telling absolutely everything.

Because of this, my addiction became a very very small part of who I really was. I began to believe that I was a good person and that I was someone worth saving. I was so much more than my troubles.

Next I learned how to confess. Mom knew, but someone with God's authority needed to know. It took me a long time, I think I was thirteen before I went. I still believed that I could handle it myself. It wasn't like I'd had sex or viewed porn or anything. It wasn't that big of a deal. But it was still a sexual sin. So I had to go.

Thus began my long process of Bishop meetings and questions about whether or not I was worthy to go to the Temple. That's probably the real reason it came out. I didn't want to go into the temple unless I knew I was clean and it was expected for youth to start going at twelve. It's still hard for me because as a single college student I go to a singles ward and due to moving and boundary changes I have a new bishop practically every three months. It's hard to go over the confession process over and over again. But I still do it because sometimes I need blessings and I do want to get to the temple someday.

And so we enter my teenage years. I remember many nights crying my eyes out because I had relapsed and felt like the worst piece of dirt in the world. It took me a long time to realize that regarding myself as worthless was a Satan based thought. That even if I had committed every sin in the book, the worth of souls is still great unto God, and He would want me. All I had to do was want Him back.

I was also struggling with wanting to give up my sin. Addictions aren't addictions because they make us miserable. They do, but that's long term misery. Addictions are addictions because the addict does get some sort of immediate comfort or pleasure from it. Giving something up that I knew gave instant gratification for a blessing and a process that I couldn't see and barely understood was a decision I had to keep making over and over again.

At fifteen I lost my Dad to cancer. I was stupid and tried to bargain letting go of my addiction for the life of my Dad. I know it doesn't work that way, but when you're desperate you'll try anything. Of course I failed, and my Dad died. And because of my bargain part of me blamed myself. Why hadn't I tried to get to know him better while I still had the chance? Why did I want to wait until I was an adult before trying to get to know my own father? I remember demanding my mom's help over my dad's for a stupid sheet of math homework. Why didn't I just let him help me? Why did he have to go? Why didn't I try to get to know Dad before he got sick? Granted, I was in middle school when the whole thing started and he was gone to a special hospital for half of it and the last half he wasn't really there anymore. I was young. I didn't know better. Kids that age don't know how to think of others before themselves usually. Still, I grieved at all the wasted time.

It was an emotionally and spiritually high time for me and my family. We bonded over God's Plan of Happiness that promised that we would see him again. When I do, I'm going to apologize and hopefully get to know my Dad so much better.

This isn't fair. I did play with my dad. He taught me softball and how to drive a sick. He came to my games. He took me and my sister riding in his truck the day he bought it. He loved each of us individually. He called us to family home evening and did his priesthood duties every day. He took us exploring in canyons and mountains. He took us on trips to see family members. He taught me to love family and history. He also taught me to buck up and finish what I started. Even though it's hard for me to remember exact details, (that's just how my brain works) I do remember that he loved me. I wasn't his favorite, that was my eldest sister. But he still loved me. I remember his laugh, deep chested with a sigh at the end. He always smelt like pine trees and hugged like a teddy bear. He led his family with honor. I hope I can still remember him like this when I'm eighty.

Next I grew up. I thank my roommate from Hell for speeding me on this particular path. In high school I had mainly kept out of everybody's way and we got along fine. My school was small and the kids were good. I never had any problems and never had to stand up for myself. I'm not saying the usual drama didn't happen there, but I never got involved. The only time I think people actually cared to talk about me behind my back was when I went all out on a Beowulf project and make a realistic Grendel arm over six feet long to hang off our classroom ceiling. Complete with blood and guts hanging out the arm socket and webbed, bloody, clawed hands that threatened to grab the student underneath them. Yeah, yeah, over achiever, I know, but it was still pretty cool. I honestly made it on impulse and the desire that I didn't want to make a stupid alphabet book like everybody else. That wold have been a brain dead project. But I digress.

I failed the lesson of defending myself to my OCD and really passive aggressive roommate. On the plus side I swore never to allow myself to be bullied ever again. And I haven't. I started to take an interest in the people around me and wanted to figure out why people did the things they did. The people who aren't obvious, or who seem obvious but have completely opposite motives are by far the most interesting to learn about. To think that I've been a creative writer for years, but it wasn't until college that I started to want to get to know people.

I began to branch outside of myself. I still had trouble with my addiction, but I was less lonely. Loneliness is one of those things that can be a trigger for addictions. I remember as a teenager going home from church crying because none of the girls ever wanted to make plans with me. I had chalked it up to our being in different schools, but in reality I hadn't made myself the most socially available person in the world. So in college I learned.

I went to parties, I took social dance classes. I got a job. All these things taught me self-respect and raised my self-esteem as I accomplished more and more tasks and made more and more friends. I learned to think outside of myself.

Then I met...we'll call him John. Nice guy, super sweet, and a gentleman, but also super super quiet. I never could hear him when he spoke and he always had a frightened look on his face. We dated for a while. Until the day that I couldn't stand feeling like a bully anymore. Imagine if someone kept looking terrified around you but still kept asking you out on dates and you couldn't even have conversations with the guy because you couldn't hear his side at all. So yea, every time he was around I felt like a bully. I had to get brave and tell him that I didn't want to see him anymore. In the past I would have shun this choice. He was the first guy to EVER show interest in me. Ok, lie, there was a guy in high school, but that's a whole other can of worms. The point was, I had to believe that I could find a good guy who could talk with me on my level and that this wasn't my only chance.

It was hard. But I did it. Many times after the break up I wondered if I'd blown my shot at Temple marriage forever. Now I know I didn't. Plenty of fish in the sea and all. But to a girl with wishy-washy self-esteem it was a pretty bold move.

Now I know this all doesn't sound like an actual "thing" that helped me with my addiction. But it is. There is no magic pill, wand, juice or whatever that can cure an addict. The power to combat addiction comes from within by first believing that you are someone whose worth it, and second, by being humble enough to ask God for help.

And the reason I'm explaining these stories and the time they took is because it's not so simple as getting up one day and deciding that you have great self-esteem and God is wonderful. It's a very long process full of lessons hidden in life's experiences that gradually, and slowly build up something strong and enduring. It's kind of like the difference between building a house of cards or building a pyramid. When built on a foundation of experience, time, testing (yours and Gods) and trial, it will last so much longer.

Next, I learned how to be a leader. I'm used to being a follower and depending on others. It takes a lot of courage and belief in ones abilities to lead a group. I was sort of used to leading in the sense that my job involved teaching one person at a time. Then I joined the Biggest Winner club on campus. It's a semester long competition, like the tv show Biggest Loser, but different, it was completely volunteer and you weighed in behind a curtain. I was a contestant the first time. The second time I was brave enough to train. I learned about people. I learned, again, how strongly a persons agency belongs to themselves. I'd learned before when praying for the Lord to make my sister nicer to me that, that was the one thing He couldn't touch because He had given us agency as a gift to do with as we would and she would have to be the one who chose to be nice. Same with my contestants. They were the ones who would have to chose if they really wanted the program to work or not. No matter how much it drove me crazy when they acted wishy-washy about it and I wanted them to do their best. All I could do was encourage with love and support and patience.

By this time I had stopped crying about my addiction so much. I learned that each relapse wasn't the end of the race but pit-hole on the track that I had to climb out of and I could choose just how deep it was going to be. So, to me, I had been doing pretty good.

Then I had my darkest hour.

Various tiny, small, seemingly inconsequential things had begun to pile up. The stress was making it harder and harder for me to say no. I can't even remember all of the things that were going on. I was taking more credits than I ever had before, I was worried about guilty finances (I'm an adult, I should be able to pay for myself), my grades, consistently not being able wake up on time for my first class, my team, I had quit temporal things that I had promised to people I wouldn't and probably many other things I can't remember. All these various tiny things caused me to crash big time. I believed that I was failing everyone. I was supposed to be this other person who wasn't me, and because of that everyone, including my own mother, was disappointed in me and wanted me to try harder. But I simply had nothing left to give.

I wanted to end it all.

That's a very dramatic statement for what actually happened. Understand first that I have a very active imagination. For weeks before my final break I had been pushing aside thoughts like, "You could just quit you know," "No I can't, I'd feel awful for quitting school, I have to finish what I started." "You can't handle the load. Life is too much for you." "It's just hard right now, it'll get better, it always does." "Nobody could ever love a hypocrite like you. Wouldn't it be easier just to end it? No more school, you could find a husband in the after life. No more worries. No future diapers. No stress. Why not just end it?"

Then I started imagining ways that I could end it. I knew exactly what I would have to do to actually go through with it and that terrified me. I called my mom and she immediately sent me up to the school counseling office to get some help.

I'd been to counselors off and on before for my addiction. But never for this. We concluded that I suffered from seasonal depression. I hated to admit it. I hate to believe that my emotions are controlled by star chart, ancestral spirits, or anything other than myself. Having my will seemingly stolen from me because of my addiction I abhorred the very thought that something outside my body was causing an emotional change in me. But I had to admit, November through February was always a dark time for me. Every Fall was always harder for me than the Spring. This particular Fall with all its extra worries was simply too much for me. By advice I cut one of my classes, lost a scholarship, and got some help.

One great thing about counseling. They're really great at teaching you how to think about why you do the things you do and to self-reflect on things you probably wouldn't ordinarily think about. The kind of stuff that brings eventual healing and understanding. If there's anything I know, understanding can bring peace to even the fiercest armies.

I started group therapy and I learned that I wasn't alone in my troubles. I learned how to comfort and bring hope to others. Most importantly I was told that it was possible to change your desires. It would be hard, but it was possible.

Hard? Hard! Really? Don't tell me about hard. Hard is feeling guilty for almost every single day of your life because you can't stop doing something that should be easy to let go. Give me that peace. Give me those righteous desires over this guilt any day. I'm ready, sign me up, let's get this done.

And that's how I got this far. I went from wishy-washy "but it makes me feel good" to "I don't want it, get rid of it, can you show me happiness and peace. I want that. Give it to me."

Then I finally learned how.

It's so simple it would make you cry.

Just be humble enough when the tough times come to invite the Lord to share your burden. That's it. It becomes so much easier when you can do that. I'm not saying I never relapse. But it's easier. And I feel so much stronger. More importantly, I have a hope that this will all eventually be in the past. I'm able to look to the future with my head up high knowing that I am a daughter of God and he is on my side.

It couldn't have happened in any other order for me. This was the only way I would have learned these lesson in a permanent kind of way. Like water wearing down a river stone. It takes time. I'm sure I'll have plenty of more lessons to learn in the future. I'm not perfect. But I am trying to be my best. Most importantly I have a hope for my future. I will be ok.

And for now, that is enough.

Ok, Not the Worst, but Still Pretty Bad Kind of Day

Right now I'm kind of in the calm drain that happens after a storm of tears.

What could have possibly happened?

Honestly, most of my day wasn't that bad. I went to school, found out that the supposedly canceled class was only a canceled lab so I was a full day behind.

I went to work and found out that an old student of mine (I tutor) whom I had supposed to be a permanent online student secluded clear across the country due to his fear of women, was applying for a job next door. I'm not kidding about his phobia. We were supposed to Skype when he disclosed his fear to me so I promised to find him an available male tutor asap. Various e-mails later he kept mentioning both his bed and his camera. Both of which I had completely zero interest in and was honestly slightly creeped out about. I got a little sarcastic and told him (verbatim) "you can put your camera where ever you want." His next e-mail told me in capital letters that I was a devil woman straight from hell who had a disgusting and perverted mind.

It's kind of funny really. Anyone who knows me and has heard this story usually has a raised eyebrow reaction. "What? You? You're one of the sweetest people I know. What did you do to deserve that comment? Answer, nothing but try and get the guy a male tutor. Ridiculous.

After reporting him I never expected to hear from him again. Now he's around campus. The good news is that we never actually skyped so he doesn't know what I look like and I have no idea what he looks like. We need never meet. Plus, all my bosses are totally protective of me, so its kind of cool.

Really all this was manageable and the whole paranoid guy was actually kind of funny. I was hoping that I might hear the end of that particular story.

Then my world went downhill from there.

I had way too much sugar at work. Easy access candy jars are not good for see-food people like me. As long as I don't have even one I'm good. Once I eat one, I eat twenty, which means I get a sugar crash. Anyone who deals with hormonal or emotional issues knows that if you're not used to having a lot of sugar and suddenly intake a ton, you can really expect to have some problems later in the day.

I didn't think about it. I went home, started surfing the news. And bam. There was a story. A classic trigger for my addiction. And I got sucked in like the Greek monster Charybdis had dragged me down into the mind numbing pits of relapse.

Seriously, I hate it when I dull my mind and my will like that and allow these things to happen.

It was the worst relapse I've had in a long time.

I got in the shower and cried for ten minutes. I'd been doing so good! My relapses were still a about week apart. But I'd been feeling stronger desires to be clean and not relapse anymore. Further, I'd finally figured out the humility I would need to call on God to help me out in these tough situations. (Cause honestly, my "I'll do it myself" pride wouldn't have allowed me to before.)

I hadn't even thought of calling on Him at the time.

I could blame the fact that the last few days have been rough on me as far as desire. For the previous two days I've felt twinges and would instantly call on God for help and the twinges would subside. But I knew that with two days in a row that I was up for a big one. I knew it, but I still hoped it wouldn't happen.

I also confessed my history to one of my roommates. She's a good friend and this is our second semester together. I mainly told her that I suffered from seasonal depression and that I might need some extra pep-talks in the Fall. She's one of those super sincere people who are really good at giving comments. It was a good discussion and we were both happier for it.

But one thing I've noticed is that dwelling on this particular issue or referring to it and attaching the idea to every part of my life is more hurtful than helpful. It's easier to just push it to the back of my mind and forgetting it than bringing it up in every facet of my life.

I think the hardest part was feeling the spirit depart. It was like someone had reached into my chest and ripped out a piece of my hope. At the time I was really into the numb state so I felt it with a slight pain of gilt before, like a donkey, allowing myself to be led back down the path of relapse.

At first, I thought it was that good feeling I'd been having lately. That I might actually feel worthy of a good guy boyfriend. It was later that I realized that it wasn't the promise of guy, but the spirit, which is far worse.

I tried to call my Bishop, but he didn't answer. It's ok though. I asked for forgiveness and a way to get away from my temptations, permanently. I've heard of people doing 180's and was told by a Councillor that it wasn't always the case. At the time that would have been true for me. I wasn't ready to give this up yet. It was my security blanket. The instant gratify-er.

But now, I really want to give it up. I'll pray for that blessing every day if I have to in order to just stop feeling like this. I know I won't be perfect. I'll still make mistakes. I just want to get rid of this. This one problem. If I can get rid of this then I can be clean and go to the Temple. I haven't been there for so long.

If I ever do meet a guy. I hope he's the kind of guy who is patient and can wait for me. Such a guy, would surely be worth spending eternity with. I hope he puts God before me while also being my best friend. I hope I can love him and care for his well-being more than my own. An even companionship between two people who love each other in a way that is powerful and indescribable. Something beyond what can be perceived by the physical eye.

I trust God for that part of my life. I will do my best to put me out there and pray that he leads good men my way.

I feel better about life right now. Battle hardened warrior that I am. After all, I've been dealing with this since I was too young to remember. I know the process. I know how hard addictions can be. But I also know that God is on my side. He trusts me to do the best I can to be a good person and continue to work. Sometimes, enduring to the end, means you don't get immediate results. I just hope I can trust myself to never despair of my God and my faith in the Atonement.

I know He loves me. I know He sent His Son for me. Me personally. So I can return and dwell with God clean of every spot. He loves me as if I were His only daughter. And He wants me to succeed more than anyone.

This brings to mind a story. A son is running a race. He's sure he's going to win. And his dad, so proud, watches from the sidelines. He'll make him proud. The race, starts. The boy trips and falls, humiliated to the ground.

I remember, it was a poem. PS, Blogger no longer likes my space bar so sorry for the inappropriate verse breaks.

The Race

"Quit, give up, you're beaten" They shout at you and plead "There's just too much against you This time you can't succeed".

And as I start to hang my head In front of failures face My downward fall is broken by The memory of a race

And hope refills my weakened will As I recall that scene Or just the thought of that short race Rejuvenates my being

Childrens race, young boys Young men, how I remember well Excitement sure, but also fear It wasn't hard to tell

They all lined up so full of hope Each thought to win that race Or tie for first, or if not that At least take second place

The fathers watched from off the side Each cheering for his son And each boy hoped to show his dad That he could be the one

The whistle blew and off they went Young hearts and hopes afire To win and be the hero there Was each young boys desire

And one boy in particular Whose dad was in the crowd Was running near the lead and thought "My dad will be so proud"

But as they speeded down the field Across a shallow dip The little boy who thought to win Lost his step and slipped

Trying hard to catch himself With hands flew out to brace And amid the laughter of the crowd He fell flat on his face

But as he fell his dad stood up And showed his anxious face Which to the boy so clearly said "Get up and win the race"

He quickly rose, no damage done Behind a bit that's all And ran with all his night and mind To make up for the fall

So anxious to restore himself To catch up and to win His mind went faster than his legs He slipped and fell again

He wised then that he had quit before With only one disgrace "I'm hopeless as a runner now I shouldn't try to race"

But in the laughing crowd he searched And found his fathers face That steady look which said again "Get up and win the race"

So up he jumped to try again Ten yards behind the last If I'm going to gain those yards he though I've got to move real fast

Exerting everything he had He regained eight or ten But trying hard to catch the lead He slipped and fell again

Defeat, he lay there silently A tear dropped from his eye There's no sense running anymore Three strikes, I'm out, why try?

The will to rise had disappeared All hope had fled away So far behind so error prone A loser all the way

"I've lost, so what", he thought I'll live with my disgrace But then he thought about his dad Whom soon he'd have to face

"Get up" the echo sounded low "Get up" and take your place You were not meant for failure here "Get up", and win the race

With borrowed will "Get up" it said "You haven't lost at all" For winning is no more than this To rise each time you fall

So up he rose to run once more And with a new commit He resolved, that win or lose At least he shouldn't quit

So far behind the others now The most he'd ever been Still he'd give it all he had And run as though to win

Three times he'd fallen, stumbling Three times he'd rose again Too far behind to hope to win He still ran to the end

They cheered the winning runner As he crossed the line first place Head high and proud and happy No falling, no disgrace

But when the fallen youngster Crossed the line, last place The crowd gave him the greater cheer For finishing the race

And even though he came in last With head bent low, unproud You would have thought he'd won the race To listen to the crowd

And to his dad he sadly said "I didn't do too well" "To me you won", his father said "You rose each time you fell"

by D. H. Groberg

That pretty much says it all. That's how the Atonement works. He doesn't expect us to repent once and be perfect. To even have an amazing confirmation of being forgiving shouldn't be expected to only come around once in a life time. As long as we live we will make mistakes.

I'm reminded of the glowing orb from the movie "Haunted Mansion" Madame Leota.

MADAME LEOTA "You try, you fail, you try, you fail. But the only real failure is when you stop trying."

MR EVERS "What do you want me to do, huh?"

MADAME LEOTA "Try again."

So simple. So complicated. Seemingly so easy, and yet so hard to do without practice. The first thing is to stop making excuses and exceptions. Say. I want this. I'm going for it. And God is with me. Just try and stop us.

I feel better. Not great. But better.

I'm going to study Lehi's dream and what the fruit really meant. I've been told that it's the love of God and that it represents Jesus Christ and his atonement. But being told something and finding the answer for yourself are two completely different bags of fruit.

Until my next update.

Pray for me.

The Move and The Latest Challenge

So this post is a little late due to the fact that I'm back at school.

So last week was my (work out at least 20 minutes a day.) I had mixed success. There were one or two days that it just didn't get done because I had a million things to do before the move. But I still did better than expected.

School may eventually get more stressful. But for now I'm enjoying it. I think taking time to walk and pick up after myself is lessening the stress somewhat. That, and actually taking time to remember that God loves me and wants what's best for me. Typically I'll listen to the last General Conference talks or continue my read-through of the Book of Mormon in the mornings. I like to listen to them on LDS.org. I'm more likely to retain or at least receive knowledge that way.

In other news I was having a bit of trouble with my temptation. I thought at first it was because of the changes, but I actually think it's because I'm crushing on someone for the first time in over a year.

Bad, I know, but it's not what you think. It's not like I'm thinking about him at the time. In fact, I think it stems more from my self-confidence issues. My addiction has always been more of a comforting baby blanket than a way to get a high.

So yesterday I went for my first long walk. I had to get serious with myself about a few things. First I talked about why I wanted a boyfriend. Did I just want the pride of capturing a hot guy or did I actually want to get to know the man? That led to things I do want in a boyfriend. A good, kind, honorable man who will put the Lord before anything else, including me.

Then I talked with God about my sudden upswing in relapses. Restated how I really didn't want to deal with that and I promised to get the courage to call upon Him anytime I needed because that's the only way I'm ever going to break this.

That's when I realized that for me, the most important thing I need from a guy is patience. A guy who is willing to wait for me to be clean enough to go to the temple. A guy who can't do that, could never truly care about me.

So I've restated my semester goal. I want to make friends. Instead of drooling after hot guys I want to try to get to know them and make friends. I know guys and girls can't be friends. But that's only because eventually they either move away or get closer together. Still, I need to practice my "becoming friends with men" skills.

It's actually the only way I'm going to stay focused on my school work and sane. Yesterday as we were going to the manditory dorm meeting I heard a girl talking about my crush and drooling all over him. I instantly felt two things, protectiveness and sadness. Hey, you would too if the first 4 hot guys you crushed on married your roommates and the last ten nice guys you thought might work out turned out to be already married. Do you see why I haven't allowed myself to crush in a year?

Basically I thought, oh here we go. He's going to fall for some other girl in my ward who's prettier than me and I'll have to stand back and be depressed for the rest of the semester. I'll never have a chance. I have a hard enough time getting even one date let alone a boyfriend. Who was I kidding? Someone like that could never like someone like me. I'm not perfect.(Actually, I really hoped he might see the fun side of me cause one of my roommates said he was really nice and down to earth.)

Luckily, my roommate Sarah pulled me out of those gutter thoughts and reminded me that I am a beautiful, fun, wonderful person and any guy who can't see that isn't worth my time.

And so the saga continues.

Welcome back

I Hate Decisions Update

Last night I was talking to a friend of mine. We met at a school run group therapy and have remained in contact outside of school.

She was going through some post-roommate stress. The good news is that the semester was already over when she called. The bad news is that people like us tend to dwell on powerful emotions and the need to release that energy can lead us to do things we'd rather not. Like succumb to our individual addictions. We know it's only a temporary release, but addiction is kinda synonymous with "rut" it a habitual fall back we're trying to replace.

Group therapy has taught us to find positive outlets instead. Like calling each other up to vent our frustrations or in my case, blog-therapy.

I found out that the underlining issue to her anger was that she was worried about being pushed away again because of her issues. She's lost friends already because of it before. Her roommates didn't know all, but they did know she had been assaulted a few months ago and would have night terrors. There was a minor blowup at the end of the semester that resulted in a roommate claiming that my friend used her abused past as an excuse to act out. Even if it were true, she really shouldn't have gone there. Especially since the incident had been so recent.

We talked about how it was finals week and not everyone has the kind of patience to deal with everything. We established a base of understanding for the offending roommate and created a calm space to allow for some forgiveness. Honestly, I didn't do much besides listen. She told me it helped and I really hope so. I know from experience that dwelling on bitter feelings only makes them linger on long past any sort of usefulness.

(I'm still working on forgiving my roommate from hell for this reason. She makes a good story, but I still feel bitter. I've already resolved never to tell the story again in hopes that I can someday finally forgive her.)

Anyway, we were able to end on a positive note by visiting about un-issue-related topics. My whole stress filled decision from last week was still stewing in the air and I told her about how it had ended with me agreeing to some Saturday seminars with Caleb Senpai's help.

She then told me that she would love to learn self-defense from me.

Her saying that, after just finding out about her being assaulted reminded me of something.

It really isn't about the money or the time.

It's about women like her. Those abused or at risk for abuse being able to protect themselves. Isn't helping these individuals enough?

Yeah, she convinced me better than Caleb Senpai ever could. So for this semester at least I'm going to put Biggest Winner on hold and focus on promoting and organizing a club at school.

This mornings reflections sealed the deal as far as long term concerns. Usually on Sundays routes I don't play music or day dream because I like to try and meditate and pray about things I don't usually have time for during the rest of the week.

Today's topics wandered like they usually do. I can't remember everything that I prayed about. But I talked about personal stuff mostly. Learning to like myself, forgive myself, allowing God to love and help me, forgiving others. That kind of thing. It was during these meditations that it occurred to me.

When they talk about priorities, they don't limit it to just worldly priorities.

All things family and gospel takes precedence over all other things.

I have no idea if keeping jujitsu in my life will get in the way of these goals. But I do know that I have a long time to live and figure it out. If it becomes something that blocks my ability to achieve celestial goals, I'll quite and not feel the least bit guilty about it. Simple as that. I don't think they need martial arts in heaven anyway.

For now it'll just be a fun club for me to have up at school. I'll need CPR certification first, but it'll be worth it.

I love that moment after the decision is made. It makes my life feel so much better. I just leaned against my car after my route and listened to the birds wake up with the sun. I love that sound and the cool of a spring morning. It's so peaceful.

PS

Since I mentioned how my friend was doing with her temptation I might as well update how I'm doing.

I had a recent positive experience.

I did relapse last Wednesday. Two times since then I was able to say, "No, you know it's only going to make you depressed, you don't really want to do that." And that was all I needed to do.

Then a few days ago or yesterday (my bizarre sleep pattern is really messing up with my body clock) I gave in to my addiction again. I was honestly half asleep and had another random guy dream, but those are just excuses. I was awake enough to say no. (PS: Guy dreams are ridiculous, I know I'm a late bloomer and all and that almost 22 is pretty late to start dreaming about guys, but it's really not helping me out here in the temptation department. Give me my lavatory labyrinth dreams any day over those.)

I didn't allow myself to beat myself up too much over that. I've gotten into a pattern when I relapse that instead of crying and feeling miserable and otherwise aggravating the situation to instead think, "Ok, I messed up, I'm going to do better, move on."

The problem with relapses is that they generally come in pairs. The worse ones come in quads. So the next night I was having trouble controlling my thoughts again...actually it was this morning after my long conversation with God. Now I remember. Basically I said, "You know you don't want to do that, God is on your side, you don't have to fight this alone."

Instantly, the need to relapse went away. I've never felt it go away that quickly. It woke me right up from the power of it. It was a really cool experience that I'm grateful for and I told Him so.

I don't remember if I mentioned this. But that's always been my little problem in my relationship with my Heavenly Father. I'm an independently minded person and I don't like to ask for divine help very often.

Just the other day I'd lost my MP3. I like my MP3 because it keeps the small random morning noises at bay and I don't have to jump every five minutes. I was afraid that I'd accidentally thrown it into the recycling, a half hour hour of sorting and digging through the can later and I knew it had to be in the house. I searched and searched off and on all day. Knowing all the time that I had a testimony that prayer could help me find it now but being stubborn enough to say, "I know it's in the house, I'm not wasting a good prayer on something I can find myself."

Finally, I decided that I aught to pray. I barely got "help me find it" out before I saw the stupid thing lying where I had searched at least ten times before.

God has a sense of humor.

He also has a way of making sure you pay attention to an important lesson. I needed this lesson because it wasn't two days later that I had my amazing intervention moment. And all because I reached out to him for help.

I love the atonement. It works in so many ways. I'm still studying what the love of God really means. This Easter has been one great reminder after another. I am truly grateful and truly blessed.