My goal this last week was to be trained. So my roommate and I have been waking up at 6 every morning to go to the gym and sweat a little. It's been awesome.
This weeks spiritual goal was to attend institute. But school ends in two weeks so that goal seems a bit pointless. So instead, I'm going to do an act of service everyday.
Last week was super tough. Partially because it was that time of the month, but really I was just out of control. I was supposed to work on and finish a research paper Saturday, but instead I watched some stupid YouTube video game recording with background gamer commentary. Funny, but pointless. I felt like I'd slipped back into old habits of ignore, neglect, and despair.
Then on Sunday I felt terrible because a guy hadn't shown up to church for the second week in a row. I thought it was because in another bout of passion I'd had two weeks prior I'd sent him a letter that scared him from church. I didn't mean to make him run away! The letter was just a comment on his awesomeness and my admiration. No attacks. No love poetry, just compliments. Bishop assured me he was only delayed in Utah over the weekend because he was in a mud race.
Monday I had another freakout because we were doing resumes. I hate job hunting. I feel like I'm putting myself out there for the world to judge my soul. Really, I'm just scared that someone will call me out on my fears. That they'll tell me that I'm not a hard worker, not good enough, and lazy person who would never be worth the time of day.
I cried about it and my roommates held a pep talk pow-wow for me to tell me how awesome and sweet and kind I am and to stop beating myself up. These guys are so amazing. For days after the pow-wow they kept coming up to me to give me words of encouragement and affection. Seriously, love my roommates.
But all the words in the world mean nothing if I don't internalize them. I reminded myself of the counsel that Bishop Thompson gave me before I left home. To not stress about the future and to just concentrate on finishing the major I have now. Doors will open. I don't have to know what I want to be right this second.
Then in my British Literature class we talked about Paradise Lost and Theodicy. The discussion we had inspired me. This is what I wrote in my notebook. "I've been praying to see the future. I should have been praying to be offered good paths to walk on. To have doors open. I'll do my best to prepare for those doors, but I know it's God who guide's me to them."
Over the years I've had insights that led to this insight. First, that God is in control and I know he'll lead good men my way when I'm ready and I'll be able to choose among them. Second, there is more than one way to skin a cat. There are many good paths to lead lives that are pleasing to God. We don't have to be cookie cutter to be righteous or successful. So, as far as relationships, I was reminded that God will lead a good man my way when I'm ready. As far as future career, He doesn't care what I do specifically as long as it doesn't get in the way of the eternal perspective. There are hundreds of jobs I could take that are like that.
A bit of sad news.
I did relapse. I was doing really well. I had felt a healing power deep within that helped me turn away from temptations. But after last weekend I succumb to old habits and turned to the habit I knew gave instant gratification. It's now ten times harder to say no. A few days ago I was disgusted with myself over the desire. Today I searched for it. I think I've officially discovered what it's like for an alcoholic to walk into a bar and have a drop fall into his mouth. It's ok though. I'm continuing forward, reminding myself that I can do this with the Lord's help and that I can get back to where I was.
I just have to be a little patient.
This morning, the fourth of July, I gave my roommate Sarah some advice that I think I can use for my talk on Sunday. Its just stuff that I do naturally but don't really put into words.
She was beating herself up because our other roommate was passing out Jimmy Johns in the parade and our roommates were going to see her. She has a really bad habit of making herself miserable over things that aren't her fault. We talked about knowing whats in our control and not in our control. She couldn't have known that Brittany was in the parade because she hadn't told anybody until last night when we were walking by some people setting up chairs. Sarah hadn't been part of the group so she couldn't have known. Second, she didn't find out until it was time to leave, obviously Brittany didn't think it was that big of a deal so her worry about not being supportive of her was invalid.
So here are the steps.
1.) Identify what was/is within the range of your control
2.) Know the facts. What really happened apart from the emotion.
3.) Make a plan to avoid the self-depreciating feeling in the future.
I don't know what she'll do for step three, but it was a good talk. I'm proud of her. I'm proud of me too. Two years ago I would have avoided her tears like the plague and just wait for her to get over it because I would honestly be afraid of her yelling at me and hating me. But now I see that I can talk to people about stuff like this without being harassed. It's a good thing to know.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Brave Tough Week
This last week was tough. Ridiculously tough. I could blame it on the lack of sleep, reading that depressing novel Frankenstein for class, or male loneliness, but really it was a combination.
I know it's been two weeks since my last post. I kinda took an accidental break from the goals. In those two weeks I've pretty much kept up the "be organized" goal and I loved it. My usual reaction to a bad week is to not exist. I would hid in my laptop or in my room and refuse any sort of interaction with anybody. If I hadn't been keeping my room tidy my brain would have started the whole self depreciation tirade. You know how the mind works. Sometimes your brain will nit-pick and make other little things seem like such a big deal when they're really symptoms of an issue you don't want to look at.
Not being able to find stuff makes me crabby. Feeling like a lazy bump on a log who does nothing makes me feel useless. Eating too much makes me sick. So why then do I choose to spend an entire day watching t.v, throwing anything I pick up down on the floor, and eating junk? I honestly think that when I'm in a mood I do things on purpose to increase the depression through a sick self-destructive need.
In all honesty it could have been worse. Thanks to my goal of organization I didn't have a messy room to add to my feelings. I've also been recently increasing in a desire to live in the world and not beside it. I think its a desire I've always had, a secret wish, but I always would tell myself that I wasn't athletic enough, pretty enough, have the means enough, to do anything. People will make fun of me if I tried. But I love doing stuff. I love being outside hiking or biking or playing. True, I also love to read, but after a whole high school career of being a slightly mobile self entertainment system I wanted to take time now to explore my limits. For instance, I'm going to try to bike out to a bluff not far from town, maybe 15 miles to it, 10 miles around it. That is really far for me, but I've been in training and I think I could do it.
I mainly kept up my spirits by realizing that as human beings we are the sum of our parts. And while I'll always have something to work on, the stuff that I'm good at already is what makes me a good person now.
Anyway, back to my depression conclusion. Because I wasn't degrading myself about my nutrition, my activity, or my cleanliness (though they did suffer in small degrees) I was able to zero in on what was really going on.
I have what you may call "daddy issues." My dad passed away when I was fifteen from kidney cancer. I grew up in a family of women and except for him and a few others I hadn't really been close to any guys. I have an over excited need to be accepted and loved by at least one good guy. This isn't to say that I go about like a slut or anything. I just am really shy when I consider men and love and relationships. Just becoming friends has become easier in recent years, but I still want love.
This all came to head during my British Literature class. We just finished Shakespeare's sonnets and were in the middle of Dunne's sonnets and in-case you were wondering they were all about love. The focus was Cupidity vs Charity. Cupidity = a Dionysus physical animal passion selfish type of love. Charity = An Apollo intellectual brotherly selfless love. Just charity can be good friends to close relations. Just Cupidity is selfish lust. Both are needed in marriage.
I almost started bawling in the middle of class. At first I attributed the feeling to not going to bed on time for the last three nights due to reading Frankenstein. But then scenes started flashing in my brain. We delivered cookies to the boys in my ward. They only saw my pheromone laced roommate and never once looked at me. The times where a boy dating me only because a girl he liked refused him just seconds before. The two really good, spiritual, wonderful men in my ward who I was beginning to think I could get their attention are currently interested in others. It's typical. One likes my FHE sister. The other one is hopelessly trying to get the attention of Sara, my pheromone laced roommate. (It's a futile effort, though she says shes still dating we all know she wants to marry her missionary and based on the amount they're communicating it's probably going to happen.) I was tired of being second. I wanted to be someone a guy was attracted to first.
To make myself feel better I reminded myself that mom had hardly ever been asked out before dad. I had been first for at least two guys before. Though I am no supermodel I had been spending considerable time previous to this reminding myself that I was pretty and I had been grooming and taking care of myself. Still, I desperately ached for male attention.
I went home and cried in the shower for about an hour. I decided that the fault could only be mine. I have iron walls when it comes to even a hint of guy attention. I never know how to react to flirting. I scare them off too easy and I never try to find ways to let a guy know that it would be alright if he asked me out. Guys are oblivious. How are they supposed to know that my pointed ignoring them is actually me being scared that they'll like me because I find myself attracted to them?
I got out of the shower and did something I've always wanted to, but never dared do. I wrote a confession of attraction and taped it in an envelope to a guys door. He is someone I've been admiring for a while and I thought he might take it the best out of the guys I currently like. Yes, I did sign it with only my last name. People around here only know each other through their first names. If he wants to know me, he'll have to look me up.
I'm no good at flirting or anything related to boy/girl relationships in person. I get too shy, nervous, and I stutter. I'm a far better writer, so I used my pen as a source of attraction. It did make me feel better because at least I know that I tried and he now knows that I exist. I wasn't pushy or demanding. I just told him how I felt and that he wasn't obligated to do anything about the letter except to read it. I still don't know if he even got the letter or if a jealous girl took it and trashed it. He does have quite an extensive fan base. Either way I do feel better. I went for a long bike ride afterwords and it completed my healing. That was so much better than sitting home and suppressing the feelings through t.v. or stories.
This week I need to start training for a race. Which is fine by me because Brittany and I have already decided to find a cheep race to enter this summer.
I know it's been two weeks since my last post. I kinda took an accidental break from the goals. In those two weeks I've pretty much kept up the "be organized" goal and I loved it. My usual reaction to a bad week is to not exist. I would hid in my laptop or in my room and refuse any sort of interaction with anybody. If I hadn't been keeping my room tidy my brain would have started the whole self depreciation tirade. You know how the mind works. Sometimes your brain will nit-pick and make other little things seem like such a big deal when they're really symptoms of an issue you don't want to look at.
Not being able to find stuff makes me crabby. Feeling like a lazy bump on a log who does nothing makes me feel useless. Eating too much makes me sick. So why then do I choose to spend an entire day watching t.v, throwing anything I pick up down on the floor, and eating junk? I honestly think that when I'm in a mood I do things on purpose to increase the depression through a sick self-destructive need.
In all honesty it could have been worse. Thanks to my goal of organization I didn't have a messy room to add to my feelings. I've also been recently increasing in a desire to live in the world and not beside it. I think its a desire I've always had, a secret wish, but I always would tell myself that I wasn't athletic enough, pretty enough, have the means enough, to do anything. People will make fun of me if I tried. But I love doing stuff. I love being outside hiking or biking or playing. True, I also love to read, but after a whole high school career of being a slightly mobile self entertainment system I wanted to take time now to explore my limits. For instance, I'm going to try to bike out to a bluff not far from town, maybe 15 miles to it, 10 miles around it. That is really far for me, but I've been in training and I think I could do it.
I mainly kept up my spirits by realizing that as human beings we are the sum of our parts. And while I'll always have something to work on, the stuff that I'm good at already is what makes me a good person now.
Anyway, back to my depression conclusion. Because I wasn't degrading myself about my nutrition, my activity, or my cleanliness (though they did suffer in small degrees) I was able to zero in on what was really going on.
I have what you may call "daddy issues." My dad passed away when I was fifteen from kidney cancer. I grew up in a family of women and except for him and a few others I hadn't really been close to any guys. I have an over excited need to be accepted and loved by at least one good guy. This isn't to say that I go about like a slut or anything. I just am really shy when I consider men and love and relationships. Just becoming friends has become easier in recent years, but I still want love.
This all came to head during my British Literature class. We just finished Shakespeare's sonnets and were in the middle of Dunne's sonnets and in-case you were wondering they were all about love. The focus was Cupidity vs Charity. Cupidity = a Dionysus physical animal passion selfish type of love. Charity = An Apollo intellectual brotherly selfless love. Just charity can be good friends to close relations. Just Cupidity is selfish lust. Both are needed in marriage.
I almost started bawling in the middle of class. At first I attributed the feeling to not going to bed on time for the last three nights due to reading Frankenstein. But then scenes started flashing in my brain. We delivered cookies to the boys in my ward. They only saw my pheromone laced roommate and never once looked at me. The times where a boy dating me only because a girl he liked refused him just seconds before. The two really good, spiritual, wonderful men in my ward who I was beginning to think I could get their attention are currently interested in others. It's typical. One likes my FHE sister. The other one is hopelessly trying to get the attention of Sara, my pheromone laced roommate. (It's a futile effort, though she says shes still dating we all know she wants to marry her missionary and based on the amount they're communicating it's probably going to happen.) I was tired of being second. I wanted to be someone a guy was attracted to first.
To make myself feel better I reminded myself that mom had hardly ever been asked out before dad. I had been first for at least two guys before. Though I am no supermodel I had been spending considerable time previous to this reminding myself that I was pretty and I had been grooming and taking care of myself. Still, I desperately ached for male attention.
I went home and cried in the shower for about an hour. I decided that the fault could only be mine. I have iron walls when it comes to even a hint of guy attention. I never know how to react to flirting. I scare them off too easy and I never try to find ways to let a guy know that it would be alright if he asked me out. Guys are oblivious. How are they supposed to know that my pointed ignoring them is actually me being scared that they'll like me because I find myself attracted to them?
I got out of the shower and did something I've always wanted to, but never dared do. I wrote a confession of attraction and taped it in an envelope to a guys door. He is someone I've been admiring for a while and I thought he might take it the best out of the guys I currently like. Yes, I did sign it with only my last name. People around here only know each other through their first names. If he wants to know me, he'll have to look me up.
I'm no good at flirting or anything related to boy/girl relationships in person. I get too shy, nervous, and I stutter. I'm a far better writer, so I used my pen as a source of attraction. It did make me feel better because at least I know that I tried and he now knows that I exist. I wasn't pushy or demanding. I just told him how I felt and that he wasn't obligated to do anything about the letter except to read it. I still don't know if he even got the letter or if a jealous girl took it and trashed it. He does have quite an extensive fan base. Either way I do feel better. I went for a long bike ride afterwords and it completed my healing. That was so much better than sitting home and suppressing the feelings through t.v. or stories.
This week I need to start training for a race. Which is fine by me because Brittany and I have already decided to find a cheep race to enter this summer.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Last three weeks and a little Love Lesson
As much as I hate to admit it, I think I'm really getting worse.
At keeping this blog regularly I mean.
Well, I knew it would be hard once I was into the semester. In the last three weeks I've had to contend with midterms, writing retreats, catch ups, and anxiety.
Last post I mentioned how the calorie thing was going to be a two week thing due to the retreat. What I may have not mentioned was how I wasn't really counting calories, but marking down what food I'd eaten for what meal in the day. Looking up calories is time consuming and I figured with all my health knowledge I aught to be able to tell a good meal from a bad one.
It was so hard to be good on the Retreat. By that I mean I literally stuffed myself. Brother Papworth was our cook and he was phenomenal. We had turkey slow cooked in the ground on a bed of coals, chicken ball things with rice, mash potatoes, sausage, muffins, casseroles and other amazing dishes. I just couldn't say no! I literally expanded my stomach on that trip and I've been trying to shrink it ever since.
But I still recorded what I ate. I have a definite pattern. Every third day or so I feel this need to eat a lot and then the day after I hardly eat anything. I'm going to keep recording and see if I can't get my meals into a more regular pattern.
Sincere prayer went over well until I skipped a temple week and forgot to read scriptures. Now I know. Sincere prayer goes hand in hand with keeping the spirit really close to you. It's hard to have them otherwise.
Being social for ten minutes was almost a free-bee except that week I had a couple of depressed days where I didn't want to see anyone. I've learned that being social for just ten minutes is good therapy for the sad.
This week's challenge is to BE ORGANIZED.
I actually didn't look this one up until today. (This blog is becoming less and less a Sunday thing and more and more a Wednesday thing.) I shocked myself because yesterday I went crazy, full of energy, and just had to clean something. Mainly because I just couldn't sit down and focus on anything. I even tried to take an ADD test but I didn't finish it. So my room has been deep cleaned down to the junk drawer and I've been loving it ever since. Totally keeping this new habit.
Today I went out and bought a swim suit. The only store here that would sell a good one was Big 5. They didn't really have anything in my size so I ended up with a french cut swim suit and a set of mens' shirt and shorts. Hey, I don't want to go to the beach feeling like my shorts are riding up or about to fall off any second. That was all they had in the women's section. And french cut includes almost indecent exposure of the behind so a shirt was necessary. Big 5 also doesn't believe that there are fit women who have boobs. None of the suits had breast pads. None. I almost bought a slick exercise bra to compensate, but reminded myself that I had one already.
That's another good thing that happened today. I budgeted and stuck to my shopping list for the first time ever. All except for a pair of socks, I got what was only on my list. I can hear Dad in heaven saying, "Yes, she's an adult now!" Go Richest Man in Babylon. Best economic read ever.
I've also finally got that workout fire back. Yes!
K, now the lesson on love
I've been having this light-bulb moment all week and it's finally culminated into a poem. Chronologically it started on a Sunday. I was talking to this guy I usually talk to and he mentioned a girl he wanted to ask out. He showed me her facebook page which displayed six beautiful, blond, straight nosed, tanned, black eyed girls. I asked him to point out THE girl and he froze. He couldn't do it. As a girl I saw the subtle differences between them, he didn't.
Later this week my roommate was distressed. She told me that she never felt uglier than at this school because everyone's expectations were so high. PS: She's beautiful, she just has really wide hips. Men were either afraid of her or wanted to change her. Anywhere else she's lived they just wanted to date her. She told me that if she took me to this one state both she and I would get dates at the drop of a hate.
"Ok, let's forget school and go there right now!" I said, possibly with some seriousness because just like her I haven't had a date in a long time. And I'm not bad looking either I just don't look like a cookie cut model. It's hard to practice social skills or even feel like you have options when the guys aren't asking.
We read this story call "The Birth-Mark" by Nathaniel Hawthrone. It's basically about this practically perfect woman who has all the looks and manners anyone could want. Her only fault is a tiny handprint shaped birthmark on her cheek that some have called blessed and others cursed. She sided with the blessed. Her husband sided with the cursed and changed her opinion over to his. He wanted her absolutely perfect so they removed it. Only once it was removed she became far too perfect for the world and died. Read it sometime, it's a good story.
So this whole idea began to marinate in my brain. I realized that the men here have too many options to choose from so simpler, curvier, and plainer girls like myself and my roommate don't really stand much chance to attract them. Further, I was ok with that.
Here's my poem that pretty much explains my feelings
A Confession on Love
As much as I think I love you
As much as I know you’re wonderful
As much as we seem to get along
We both know
You cannot love what you secretly despise
You have an ideal
You have an ambition
You have too many options
We both know
That one beauty will meet your expectations
Do not feel sorry for me
Do not turn your hand to mine
Do not regret what never was
We both know
We’d rather be alone than to be only loved almost
Enjoy your quest
Enjoy your straight nose
Enjoy your slim hips and black eyes
We both know
That I sincerely wish you well with your dream.
I am content
I am glad of your goals
I am glad of my own
We both know
That it’s not in me to dwell on things that never were
Someday, there’ll be another
Someday, I’ll be the Queen
Someday, I’ll be the ideal
We both know
True love is always beautiful in the beholders eyes
An that pretty much sums up this post. Wish me luck on this next goal for staying organized.
At keeping this blog regularly I mean.
Well, I knew it would be hard once I was into the semester. In the last three weeks I've had to contend with midterms, writing retreats, catch ups, and anxiety.
Last post I mentioned how the calorie thing was going to be a two week thing due to the retreat. What I may have not mentioned was how I wasn't really counting calories, but marking down what food I'd eaten for what meal in the day. Looking up calories is time consuming and I figured with all my health knowledge I aught to be able to tell a good meal from a bad one.
It was so hard to be good on the Retreat. By that I mean I literally stuffed myself. Brother Papworth was our cook and he was phenomenal. We had turkey slow cooked in the ground on a bed of coals, chicken ball things with rice, mash potatoes, sausage, muffins, casseroles and other amazing dishes. I just couldn't say no! I literally expanded my stomach on that trip and I've been trying to shrink it ever since.
But I still recorded what I ate. I have a definite pattern. Every third day or so I feel this need to eat a lot and then the day after I hardly eat anything. I'm going to keep recording and see if I can't get my meals into a more regular pattern.
Sincere prayer went over well until I skipped a temple week and forgot to read scriptures. Now I know. Sincere prayer goes hand in hand with keeping the spirit really close to you. It's hard to have them otherwise.
Being social for ten minutes was almost a free-bee except that week I had a couple of depressed days where I didn't want to see anyone. I've learned that being social for just ten minutes is good therapy for the sad.
This week's challenge is to BE ORGANIZED.
I actually didn't look this one up until today. (This blog is becoming less and less a Sunday thing and more and more a Wednesday thing.) I shocked myself because yesterday I went crazy, full of energy, and just had to clean something. Mainly because I just couldn't sit down and focus on anything. I even tried to take an ADD test but I didn't finish it. So my room has been deep cleaned down to the junk drawer and I've been loving it ever since. Totally keeping this new habit.
Today I went out and bought a swim suit. The only store here that would sell a good one was Big 5. They didn't really have anything in my size so I ended up with a french cut swim suit and a set of mens' shirt and shorts. Hey, I don't want to go to the beach feeling like my shorts are riding up or about to fall off any second. That was all they had in the women's section. And french cut includes almost indecent exposure of the behind so a shirt was necessary. Big 5 also doesn't believe that there are fit women who have boobs. None of the suits had breast pads. None. I almost bought a slick exercise bra to compensate, but reminded myself that I had one already.
That's another good thing that happened today. I budgeted and stuck to my shopping list for the first time ever. All except for a pair of socks, I got what was only on my list. I can hear Dad in heaven saying, "Yes, she's an adult now!" Go Richest Man in Babylon. Best economic read ever.
I've also finally got that workout fire back. Yes!
K, now the lesson on love
I've been having this light-bulb moment all week and it's finally culminated into a poem. Chronologically it started on a Sunday. I was talking to this guy I usually talk to and he mentioned a girl he wanted to ask out. He showed me her facebook page which displayed six beautiful, blond, straight nosed, tanned, black eyed girls. I asked him to point out THE girl and he froze. He couldn't do it. As a girl I saw the subtle differences between them, he didn't.
Later this week my roommate was distressed. She told me that she never felt uglier than at this school because everyone's expectations were so high. PS: She's beautiful, she just has really wide hips. Men were either afraid of her or wanted to change her. Anywhere else she's lived they just wanted to date her. She told me that if she took me to this one state both she and I would get dates at the drop of a hate.
"Ok, let's forget school and go there right now!" I said, possibly with some seriousness because just like her I haven't had a date in a long time. And I'm not bad looking either I just don't look like a cookie cut model. It's hard to practice social skills or even feel like you have options when the guys aren't asking.
We read this story call "The Birth-Mark" by Nathaniel Hawthrone. It's basically about this practically perfect woman who has all the looks and manners anyone could want. Her only fault is a tiny handprint shaped birthmark on her cheek that some have called blessed and others cursed. She sided with the blessed. Her husband sided with the cursed and changed her opinion over to his. He wanted her absolutely perfect so they removed it. Only once it was removed she became far too perfect for the world and died. Read it sometime, it's a good story.
So this whole idea began to marinate in my brain. I realized that the men here have too many options to choose from so simpler, curvier, and plainer girls like myself and my roommate don't really stand much chance to attract them. Further, I was ok with that.
Here's my poem that pretty much explains my feelings
A Confession on Love
As much as I think I love you
As much as I know you’re wonderful
As much as we seem to get along
We both know
You cannot love what you secretly despise
You have an ideal
You have an ambition
You have too many options
We both know
That one beauty will meet your expectations
Do not feel sorry for me
Do not turn your hand to mine
Do not regret what never was
We both know
We’d rather be alone than to be only loved almost
Enjoy your quest
Enjoy your straight nose
Enjoy your slim hips and black eyes
We both know
That I sincerely wish you well with your dream.
I am content
I am glad of your goals
I am glad of my own
We both know
That it’s not in me to dwell on things that never were
Someday, there’ll be another
Someday, I’ll be the Queen
Someday, I’ll be the ideal
We both know
True love is always beautiful in the beholders eyes
An that pretty much sums up this post. Wish me luck on this next goal for staying organized.
Monday, May 28, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, April 30, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
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.
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