Hopeless

I was sitting on my front porch today and noticed a bug just beside my foot.  It had ended up on its back somehow and was trying to get back on its feet.  I sat and watched it flop around and flail its legs and antennae. It would do this for a while and then go perfectly still.  Then after a while it would suddenly start flopping and frantically struggling before falling back into complete stillness for a longer period of time. 

I started to cry. 

What a perfect representation of my relationship with both the man in my life and with God.  I’m just flopping around helplessly trying to right myself.  

I wondered how long the bug would keep struggling.  If it would give up and just lie there waiting to die.   Or it it would keep attempting to flip over, getting weaker, and having longer periods of stillness between attempts until it just died.  I wondered what instinct kept the bug continuing its attempt.   

I eventually got overheated and went back inside where I attended a meeting and our CEO shared a surprisingly timely thought:

If you focus on the obstacles, all you will see is obstacles. 

Hours later I checked and the bug was gone. Maybe it finally righted itself. Maybe it got eaten by a bird or another insect.  I’m on the fence. 

Enough

I have been rejected by two men in the last couple of months.  I’ve known them for a while and invested quite a bit of myself into our friendships.  I didn’t take either rejection very well.   As I was struggling to get out of my pity party, I reached out to the Relief Society President to ask if there were any women I could provide some service for.   She suggested that I come to our activity the next day which would feature a counselor who would talk to us about “not being enough”. 

I decided to go. 

The counselor asked us to think for a minute and identify the phrase that we tell ourselves.   She gave an example, on her way over she had gone the wrong direction and when she finally realized she was halfway across town and going to be late, and she immediately started the internal dialogue “I’m such a mess”. 

It wasn’t hard for me to identify my phrase.   I’ve been bullying myself with it since these rejections.  She then asked us to identify WHO was really saying it.  And as I thought about it, I came to a STUNNING realization.  This phrase was something my ex-husband had said to me over the years.  It’s a horribly abusive phrase and while the words are different, it’s ultimate meaning is “you are not enough and you never will be to anyone”. 

It’s horrifying to realize how much I have internalized this idea and accepted it.  So I’m starting the process of changing this self perception.  Abuse SUCKS.  

Pained

April of 2018 I wrote a post about envy.  I shared my feelings of envy when I listened to my friends talking about their married lives.   Today I feel distress. 

One of those friends has a husband who makes something for a living.  I have another friend who wants to make that item. So I figured I would introduce them.  I reached out to her to see if we could all get together.  She ignored me.  

I found his Instagram account and noticed a disturbing trend.  It was all about his product—until a few months ago.  And then it was about the half naked women holding the product he makes. 

And combined with a comment someone else made earlier this week, my intuition raised her head (like a hunting dog on full alert).  I thought back and realized that she hadn’t come to church in a long time. Five minutes later I had verbal confirmation. 

And I just ache for her and her family.  And it distresses me how often this happens.  It reminds me of sitting in a support group and seeing another woman I know walk in and thinking “Noooo!  Not her!”  

It’s just distressing and painful and I wish it wasn’t this way. 

Impatient

 "You have a lot of patience."

I've heard this in various forms for several years now.  I'm slightly taken back every time I hear it.  Because I don't feel patient.  In fact, two years ago, I set a goal to cultivate patience.  I wrote it on notes and stuck it everywhere so I would have visual reminders of this goal. 

These last few weeks I've felt particularly impatient.  Impatient with COVID.  Impatient with my love life.  Impatient with my career.  Impatient with my goals.  I want things the way I want them and I want them now. 

I'm impatient with the Lord's timing.  Which is stupid really.  If I trust Him, then I need to trust His timing too.  

When I act on my impatience, REALLY bad things happen.   I've learned THAT at least, so I've stopped acting on it.  It doesn't make the feeling go away though.  The impatience still eats at me. 

So today, instead of acting on it, I have taken a moment to just write about it and acknowledge my infernal impatience.  

                

                                                

Rage

 This morning I had a session with my trauma therapist.  Something triggered me on Sunday (I’m still not sure what it was) and it’s been a rough few days.  But as I worked through things with her, it got to a point where I felt pure rage. (Those words don’t really go together if you think about it). 

It’s been a reeaaalllly long time since I’ve felt such rage. 

*********

As we talked about what I was feeling in my body the words “giving up” came out, and with them a lot of emotion welled up.  For so long, I fought for my marriage. I fought the addiction.   I fought the addict.   

It’s okay to give up the fight.  I don’t want to ever fight to keep an addict again.  There are better things to fight for.   Like myself.  

Snuffed

This is not going to be a particularly hopeful post 

I was thinking back to the few months after my divorce. Particularly standing in my bathroom and my ex saying that he didn’t recognize me and that I had never been so attractive. 

in that time and place I was happy, at peace, learning new things, making new friends, working through my anger, learning to forgive, and glowing. I truly felt full of light. 

I’m not that person anymore. Somewhere along the way I detoured. I attracted a man who was inappropriate for me in every way and ended up in a bishops court where I was actually shown unbelievable mercy. 

I had a chance to course correct. 

But Pandora’s box was opened.  

In moments of reflection I feel angry and want to blame my ex husband. Because I shouldn’t be in this situation. I should be safely married where I can express affection and intimacy in the only way acceptable to God.  

But in reality I can’t blame him for my inability to live with integrity.  

The light in me is dimming. 

Peculiar

An Heritage #3 got a job for the summer which naturally messes with out of state visitation.  I’ve already established that I don’t do things the socially or even culturally accepted way.  So why start now?  I asked H-er to come spend four weeks with us (with the understanding that we would not be in a relationship and I would not adjust my life in any way to accommodate him). 

He accepted and so for the last couple of weeks, my ex-husband has been living in the spare room in my house.  He has also been going on frequent dates as he tries to find a girlfriend here in Arizona as part if a plan to move down here and be in his children’s lives.  It hasn’t quite gone the way he wanted, and I’ve actually enjoyed teasing him about it a little.  (“why do the women down here ghost me?” and I respond, “well if you wouldn’t put out on the first date….”)

A week ago, he invited me to come to dinner with him and the boys.  I tagged along and mostly was silent listening to them debate about politics for 45 minutes.  When we got home I could sense his anxiety over the conversation (An Heritage #4 didn’t agree with his politics) and suggested a walk around the neighborhood.  An Heritage #4 followed us and eventually we all sat on a bench, and as his parents we took turns asking him questions (what’s your favorite color, who is your best friend, etc).  For 30 minutes he was the center of attention from both of his parents (literally as he sat between us).

True to my warning I have kept to my normal routine and left him to his own devices.

I came home from Yoga last night to find him sitting on the curb in front of the house talking on the phone.  I sat down next to him and he finished his phone call and then he began to tell me about the disaster that is his life – particularly with women. Some of them are having a hard time with the idea that he is staying at his ex-wife’s house. (there’s a host of other issues too that he enumerated).   And then he asked if he could smoke while he talked to me. 

The interesting thing is that he has smoked since day one of our relationship.  But he always did his best to hide it from me.  In 24 years, I had never witnessed him smoking.  Last night I did. 

I also didn’t feel a single drop of attraction to him. 

It’s just interesting that for the first time in his life he is hiding nothing from me.   What a strange place to be. 

Gratitude

I thought I was done.  But apparently, I’m not.  I need to share this beautiful time in my life.

In my first post of this blog I shared that I went to my bishop for help because I hated men.  While the post referenced this being a problem because God is a man, I didn’t mention the real reason I went to the Bishop about this.  You see, I have two sons--and one day they will be men.  You can see the problem there right?

As a child I used to sing a song that went like this:

“When I grow up I want to be a mother
And have a family
One little, two little, three little babies of my own”

I couldn't wait to be a mother and love my children.  Now, the idea that I could hate my sons was horrifying to me.  It went against EVERYTHING I was as a woman.

For the last two weeks I’ve been reeling with grief (mostly I’ve been wrestling with the grief associated with not being able to save my marriage – feelings are feelings no matter how irrational they are).  Both of my boys have noticed my lower spirits and finally An Heritage #3 asked me if I needed a hug.  As my 6’2 son enfolded me in his arms and comforted me, I started sobbing. 

A few days later, the bishop stopped by to release An Heritage #3 as the Teacher’s Quorum President and asked him what he had learned.   I listened to this 16-year-old share that while he had been given authority that didn’t mean he was more important or that he could look down on anyone else and that not only was each boy an important part of the quorum, they needed to FEEL important.

An Heritage #4 casually mentioned he was meeting with the bishop and afterwards I asked how it went.  “I asked him how I could get past the anger I feel towards Dad.”  And a few days later when he finished the Book of Mormon (cover to cover) he decided not to take the reward of a cell phone with data because it wasn’t worth the risks. 

It just makes my heart burst with joy (I’m a complete mess between the tears of grief and the tears of joy these days).   I like my boys.  I can’t wait to see them as men (flaws and all).

Healing

The other day H-er called to talk and he asked me how An Heritage #4 was doing. Unfortunately, he is still failing some of his classes (refuses to do any school work) and I sensed H-er’s frustration. It made me a little defensive as he listed ways that I could get our son to get his grades up.  

I recognized however that he wasn’t criticizing me. He truly just wants our son to succeed. I mentioned my tiredness at the end of the day because of my busy season at work and how it left no energy to really enforce anything. He immediately set his frustration aside and validated me. The conversation went on. 

The next day when I woke up, I felt it was important to acknowledge what had happened. I sent him the following text:

I wanted to point out something I noticed (and appreciated) during our conversation about #4 yesterday.  

I could sense your frustration with the situation and yet you checked yourself and tried to validate my hard week. That was a lovely example of emotional maturity and I truly appreciate it. Thanks!

He responded with 

Thank you... your positivity means a lot and sometimes it is what gets me through the day. You are a beautiful woman. 

And I knew he didn’t mean physically. 

Over the last year he has repeatedly apologized to me for his behavior and treatment of me during our marriage. And when we see each other or talk to each other he is respectful and kind.  I felt impressed to change my story for the third time. 

Getting divorced was truly the best thing that could ever happen for our relationship. And as I have healed I find it easier to be kind and empathetic with him. 

I stumbled across an old notebook where I had detailed some of the more painful episodes including some of the physical and verbal abuse.  As I read, I felt sorrow and grief for the situation, particularly for him because I could see the pain he was in from acting out in addiction, but I felt no anger.  I could also see his growth, at least in his relationship with me. I hope that he continues to grow and it spills over into all of his relationships.

I am feeling that this blog is coming to a close.  I’ll leave it up because I remember reading other blogs and finding solace, recognition, validation, and hope and if even one person finds any of those in my posts it is worth it. So I’ll just close with this…..Because of the Savior’s Grace I have experienced healing and my bitterness is now made sweet. What a wonderful gift!!! 

Faithful

A few weeks ago, our Stake had a meeting for the youth and parents of prospective missionaries.  They sent the youth off to another room and kept the parents together.  We discussed the difficulties that missionaries are having and how many are being sent home.   Towards the end, I could barely keep my emotions in check.  I ended up crying myself to sleep.  It was not a hopeful meeting for me.

I think that might be one of the hardest things about being a parent.  I have hopes and dreams for my children and realizing that my imagined path for them might not be the same as God’s path, is kind of painful.

My path wasn’t what I imagined either, but I am truly a better person for my experiences.  And so I have to hold on to the faith that God is in charge, and in the end, my children will be grateful for their own trials and growth. 

Lonely

My boys have been in another state for summer visitation with their Dad since the beginning of the month.  I’ve been trying to stay busy.  I signed up for that dance class I’ve always wanted to take.  I went to the gym with my daughter and she signed me up for a two-week free pass so I’ve headed over there every day.  I went to visit an older sister in the ward.  I helped someone move. I went to brunch with another sister in the ward.   I dragged another sister who is in the same boat as I (kids out of state for visitation) out to the movies.  I’ve worked extra hours.  I’ve looked for opportunities to serve so that I’m not stuck in my mind. 

But still last night as I was getting ready for bed in my empty house,  I was hit by a wave of loneliness.  

Loneliness sucks.

Envious

I confess I succumbed to envy yesterday.  My friends were talking about the wonderful things their husband do and when they get together as couples and other fun married stuff.  I felt left out.  I wanted what they had!

Then I chided myself for being envious and ungrateful--because I could have been born in the dark ages.  You know--when women didn’t have any rights, couldn’t read, labored day and night to survive—and that was if they even survived.  1/3 if children didn’t make it past 5 years old.

I'M ALIVE!!

And not only that:  I’M LIVING!!!

I have experienced so much. I have children.  My children are experiencing life and I get to be part of their experience. 

I’ve TRAVELED and seen some beautiful sights.  I WENT ON A CRUISE.   I stood in a small unpopulated Island in the Caribbean as the sun set. I’ve been to Hawaii, England, Wales, South Padre, Puerto Vallarta, Rocky Point, Southern France, the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Black Forest, the Rhine and its castles, Blenheim Palace, Versailles, the Verdun Gorge, Pompeii, the sea caves on the coast of Portugal, Seville, Barcelona, Cinque Terre, Florence, the Amalfi Coast, Venice, Iceland.  And I’m only 44!!!  The life expectancy for women in the dark ages was 43.6.  I’m just getting started!

I mean come on!!!   I have seen natural beauty and architectural wonders. 

Instead of comparing myself to those around me and thinking I am missing out, I should compare the wonders and blessings I get to experience with the dark ages. I can take a HOT SHOWER.  I have clean water and food and vaccinations and THE INTERNET.  I can go to the dentist. I have access to antibiotics.  I have CONTACTS and can see!  I sing in choirs and play musical instruments and read whatever I want.  I have been to operas and Broadway productions.   I have access to so much knowledge--Including the GOSPEL and all its ordinances and blessings.

I just need the right perspective.   My life is FULL beyond belief. 

Concerned

June 2016 I gave up romance novels.

I wrote a post about it sharing how I was inspired to "bury" my habit by the anti-Nephi-Lehies who buried their weapons of war.

Well I haven't read one since.

Oh there have been times I have wanted to.   It was pretty easy to resist though with a simple NO. Lately the urge has been strong.

This means I am feeling the need to medicate something painful.

So I had better figure out what it is, face it, and work through it. Because digging that habit up again would make an awful mess.

Slandered

I just love it when H-er’s lovers feel the need to message me.

Backstory:

He was seeing two women at once and lying to each of them about it.  They found out about each other.  They started talking.  They decided I needed to know about this even though it all happened after our divorce.

Normally I would just ignore it (while shuddering and thinking “I’m just glad it’s not happening to me anymore”).  But they felt the need to tell me all of the things H-er said about me to them.  I don’t know if they are hoping I will join their anger party or if they just want to make me feel bad because it will somehow make them feel better.  Maybe they think I will lash out at H-er and make him miserable so they get to make him miserable vicariously?

But part of their messages included telling me that they knew "all my dirty little secrets".

He went all the way back to 1998 with a little story (and added a twist so that I look horribly evil).

Or about how I was fired from my job at the bank because I stole from them.  Except I didn’t.  It’s a nice spin on the time that I forgot to hit “enter” on a deposit and then at the end of the day when I counted my drawer we spent forever trying to find out where the extra money was supposed to go.

Or the blatant lie:  “you were unwilling to make any accommodations for marriage therapy – just flat out said No, I won’t do it.”  Man, I wish I had all that money back.  Except not really, because I got a lot out of those sessions.

There’s more though.  About my parenting decisions, behavior during the divorce, and that I forced him to do things to assuage my guilt.  I’m not perfect.  There are enough grains of truth in it that it stings a little. The truths are all twisted in just such a way though that I’m feeling quite slandered.

Slander synonyms:

defame (someone's character), blacken someone's name, tell lies about, speak ill/evil of, sully someone's reputation, libel, smear, cast aspersions on, spread scandal about, besmirch, tarnish, taint

Yeah, that’s how I feel.  And it’s okay.  I don’t have to lash out at anyone in anger to protect myself.  I’ll survive it.  

Objectifed

TRIGGER WARNING

My son started the following conversation in the car this last week:

“Who is the best rapper ever?”
None of us actually really care for rap so it was kind of a benign question.  Or so I thought.

Eminem was discussed. 

Yes.  I personally think he is pretty talented.  He makes words rhyme that shouldn’t rhyme.  And some of his stuff is pretty catchy.  But his lyrics are awful.  And the way he portrays women – particularly his ex wife and his mother are pretty horrible as well.  I mentioned this and of course my son wanted examples because his only exposure is “mom’s spaghetti” which has made the rounds as a meme.  (from Lose Yourself – which is actually a pretty tame song for him all things considered especially if you are listening to the radio edit).  So I needed him to understand that talent doesn’t excuse objectification of women.

There were two songs that I googled the lyrics to and had him review.  One was about his ex-wife and details how he and his daughter are in a car driving to dispose of her body after he killed her.  The other was a collaboration with another artist about their visits to strip clubs where they egg the women on.  (a truly disgusting song).   

I failed.  He made comments like: why is Eminem at fault when the strippers are the one’s doing it for money? It’s not like they are forced to be strippers.  They should just get a different job.  They are just doing their job.

It was a total failure and it ended with me in my room crying because I remembered when my husband used to tell me I had to have sex with him.  “Just do your job you ***** ****” he would say.

 

And my son is still clueless about the objectification of women in music.

Responsible

I STILL HAVE MY SENSE OF HUMOR (because apparently I can actually laugh at this—in a dark way).

Also I am very susceptible to emotional manipulation.

So you know how folktales, fables, and fairy tales were used to pass on moral lessons to children?  Well here is my story to tell your kids at bedtime to “scare” them.

I started dating someone who was very nice and was in many ways different than my first husband in the way he treated me.  It was nice to be desired and admired and treated well.  It was nice having someone fix things at my house, buy me presents, compliment me, help me do dishes, bring me dinner, and treat my kids well.  Basically he made me feel safe.   I went to the temple and felt like I had been put in this man’s path for a reason – specifically to help him. So I accepted his offer of marriage.  Because he didn’t live in the same state he was spending a lot of time traveling to visit me.  He began to push for a quick marriage.  And so the conflict began.

Here’s just a short list of boundaries that I didn’t keep:

He brought a cat with him on one of his visits.   He left it at my house. (He dropped it off on his way out of town while I was at work so it was waiting for me when I got home).  He wasn’t going straight home and couldn’t take the cat with him where he was going without endangering it (leaving it in the heat of the car for long hours at a time).

He had some paperwork that he needed to go through so he could submit a claim to the military for some benefits he felt he’d been denied.  He asked for my help because it was overwhelming for him.  He said he had some boxes that needed to be sorted so he could get the important documents out.  Every time he tried, he would suffer from PTSD and shut down.  So I said of course I’d help sort paperwork.

He showed up with 17 boxes of paper.  He left the boxes in my garage – unsorted because frankly 17 boxes was a little overwhelming for me too.

He had hurt his back prior to meeting me and it required surgery to remove a piece of bone that was pushing against his spinal cord.  After a hospital stay the VA finally saw him but said they couldn’t do anything for six months.  So he came to see a specialist here and suggested we get married because my insurance would cover it and he wouldn’t have to wait.  He was very concerned that he might be paralyzed if the bone severed his spinal cord.  I felt quite a bit of guilt as he cried about how he was afraid of being paralyzed and how I could save him if only I would marry him.    I managed to come up with another solution which meant we didn’t have to get married so abruptly.  He began to say things like “if you don’t want me…” and I would promptly assure him that I did.

He had a fire up at his property.   He lost a lot of things.  His place was not going to be habitable for the upcoming winter.  He planned to store some things at his son’s here where I live but the son didn’t have room.  So guess where it ended up.  My garage.   Except for the 2^nd cat.  That one was now in my house too.

His Bishop and another member of his ward told me that he would come back from seeing me a changed man and how much better he was doing since he met me.  And of course there were more resources for his PTSD and health here with a large VA than in his rural town.

After Thanksgiving, he fled his home because of the weather.  He showed up with a third cat and nowhere to live.  So he was on my couch for the time being and I was hoping no one would notice that I had a man living with me that I wasn’t legally married to.

Eventually he began to say things like:  “If I’m not married by my birthday I’ll just go back to my place and stay until I die.  No one wants me and I’m useless anyway.”

ARE YOU HORRIFIED YET?

Well here I was, with most of his possessions in my garage, three cats, and a homeless VET sleeping on my couch.  Ever heard of FOG?  The three parts of emotional blackmail?  

Fear:  Basically I’m living with a man out of wedlock so I was feeling a little fear about what the church would have to say about that.  Plus I hate conflict.  So there was the fear of conflict if I told him to take his stuff and go.  What if he refused to go? 

Obligation: I’d made promises to him.  That I wouldn’t abandon him because he suffered from depression and PTSD (as his first wife had abandoned him).  And I was supposed to help him.  I’d gotten that impression remember?

Guilt:  He was going to die if I broke it off with him.  

So I grudgingly married him – on the last possible day before his birthday, at the courthouse, with the minimum witnesses, and no fanfare.   And ten minutes later when he handed me his phone to look at our wedding pictures I found porn.   And I wasn’t even looking.

When I immediately told him that it was over there was so much snot and tears and wailing and finally a call from his Bishop asking if I could possibly let him stay until the weather changed because his house out in the country had no water or electricity and was exposed to the elements and if he came back HE WOULD DIE.

Long story short:  I let him stay because I wasn’t so heartless that I could send someone away to die.  But I started saying things like “If you feel like you need to take your life please call someone.  I can call a suicide hotline for you if you would like.”  And every time he said “I’m sorry I ruined your life”  I answered “apology accepted”.  And when he would banish himself to the garage to sleep on the couch and text me “I’ll just leave you alone since I can’t do anything right” I would text back “ok” and just go to bed.  And I got him to a doctor.  And his back is fixed.  And he found a job.   Sadly, I didn’t have to marry him to get him to do all that. I could have done that as a friend.  You know…one with boundaries…

Eventually I did send him away – better than when I found him at least.  And it was painful for everyone.  And I accept responsibility because I had no business dating anyone so soon after my first marriage ended.  And good heavens I need figure out how to say no.

Guarded

I want to share what I’ve learned about human touch.  It can be safe or unsafe.  And that has consequences.  It wasn’t until recently that I realized what some of them were.

I remember the first time I was ever hit by someone I loved. 

One moment I was sitting there on a chair and the next thing I was aware of I was looking down at the floor.  You would expect that I’d be thinking about pain or wondering how I’d gotten there or if there was another blow coming.  But no.  The first thought that went through my mind was “Don’t get blood on the carpet.”  And I picked myself up, cupped my nose, and ran to the bathroom sink. 

Over time as the verbal, physical, and sexual abuse increased I began to guard against human touch.  I didn’t realize how guarded I was until I walked into Sunday School one Sabbath Day and chose to sit next to a sister that I visit taught.  At one point I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees and cupped my chin.  For whatever reason, this sister began to scratch my back and just like that I began to sob. 

The genuine warm touch of another with no sexual expectations or intent to harm was almost too much to bear for me. 

Still later I realized that the problem with withdrawing from human touch because it is unsafe is that it doesn’t discriminate.  This means withdrawal from even safe touch….as in I didn’t hug my children. 

I didn’t even recognize that I had withdrawn physically from my children.  Not until my divorce which gave me freedom from this shell of withdrawal.  Not only did I not have to fear and guard against touch (especially his), I didn’t have to feel guilt for denying him.  And I realized I craved touch. 

I also realized that my children must be starved for safe touch.  Suddenly I wanted to hug my children. Of course I was afraid that they were too old and would reject it – teenage boys after all.  But it warmed my heart when they accepted my hugs with open arms.

Chastened

“I wish there was a flashing neon sign with the answer!”.

I used to say this all the time about answers to prayers.  I felt like my answers were always so subtle and hard to hear and I just could never have confidence that I received answers. 

Friday I was feeling pretty low.  As I journaled I wrote that I wanted to ask to be released from my calling (I have been struggling about what I will teach at the beginning of February in Relief Society).  I just was not feeling up to the task of standing in front of the Relief Society and assuring them of anything since I was hurting and doubting so much.   Let me quote from what I wrote:

I’m supposed to stand in front of them and say “God is at the helm.  Everything has a purpose and works for our good.  Blah blah blah”… I’d rather sit in the back and be silent. I can’t testify of hope.  Not with any sincerity.

I actually use quotations in my journaling.  It’s a quirk of mine.

About two hours after writing that  I received a text from one of our teachers asking if I could fill in for her this Sunday as she was not feeling well.  I said yes and figured I’d better do an initial quick read through of the lesson so it would be in the back of my mind until I had time to really prepare.  So I’m reading along in Chapter 2 of the Teachings of Gordon B. Hinckley and come to this paragraph:

We have nothing to fear.  God is at the helm.  He will overrule for the good of his work…Of His ability to keep that promise none of us can doubt.

Flashing neon sign anyone?

Of course I shared this story in Relief Society on Sunday and immediately after I used a magnet to put the words “God is at the helm!” up on the chalkboard.  Even if no one else was supposed to hear it, I was.

 

Done

Warning:  This post talks about physical abuse and may be a trigger

Sometimes I just want to give up.

An Heritage #2 texted me over the holidays while he was with his dad. 

“I need help”

“With what?”

“this stupid addiction”

"What addiction is that?”

“pornography, it’s like every couple of weeks.  It didn’t worry me until I realized I couldn’t let it go.  I would go for like a month but it kept coming back.  I hate it and I thought I could get rid of it myself but I can’t and I need help and I’ve always been too scared to tell anyone”. 

And later in our conversation:

“I was so scared I would have it until I was married and would ruin my relationship and I would never be worthy of a mission.  Can I still go on a mission?”

This conversation covers so many of Satan’s lies:

It’s not that often so don’t worry
You can stop anytime
You can do it by yourself
Be very afraid
You are alone
It’s too late
 
I also noticed something with both of my sons.  They both assumed they had an addiction AND their experience with addiction has been the extreme version of their father’s.  As I was talking with him via text I recalled Elder Oak’s talk Recovering from the Trap of Pornography and felt impressed that I needed to cover it with my boys.

So this last family home evening we took turns reading from it and applying it to themselves.  I hope they came away with the understanding that they are not at the level where it is an “irresistible compulsion” that “takes priority over almost everything else in life”.   That they have not in fact lost agency or the capacity to recover and repent.

And we are going to do some journaling.  They don’t have to share it with me.  I want them to write about what has led up to their viewing of pornography.  I want them to consider the emotions, location, time, and what was happening around them.  Were they curious, sad, lonely, hurt, bored, hungry, tired, up past bedtime, was it the weekend, did they just have a fight with someone, etc.  Are there any patterns?  Because once they have identified these patterns and triggers, then they can-with the help of the Lord-realize his promise in Ether 12:27 “then I will make weak things become strong unto them”.

So that’s the goal. 

Is that why I want to give up? 

No.

It’s that PLUS the fact that my daughter is in an abusive relationship.  She texted me on New Years Eve and I was horrified as she detailed how he punched her and another time he told her he was going to kill her and yet another time he put a pillow over her face and tried to suffocate her.  And then she told me that it was her fault because she had pushed him to it because she was so mean and demanding.  That she has been praying that it will work out because she just knows she is supposed to be with him because he loves her and only wants to do good things in the world with his hands.  (I feel like vomiting as I type this) And though they are officially “broken up now” apparently she spends time with him still because yesterday she said she needed to talk to me but was afraid and then finally said he had been driving her car and was punching her at the same time so that she opened the door and jumped out of the moving car.  Then later still she minimized it while I stared at the bruises and the huge welt underneath them causing her skin to bulge.   But apparently I handled it well (didn’t freak out) so she decided to show me the tattoo she got as well. 

Is that why I want to give up?

Well we’re getting closer.

Because on top of that, the guy that I’ve been seeing, who is supportive and treats me well and wonderful and that all signs were pointing to – including in the temple – apparently he has gender identity issues.  And that’s the white-washed, shortened, tacked on as an afterthought version. 

So it’s all of that.  Like I was in an abusive adulterous relationship for 20 years and finally was given the green light to leave for better things and I’m like ???????

Somewhere, someone is laughing.

 

 

 

 

 

Disappointed

Thanksgiving.  Another drop off for visitation.  This time Jolene wasn't dropped off at a gas station to wait (this is really her name and not a play on words.  But really, how cliche is it that the woman H-er cheated with is named Jolene?).  After the boys climbed in the car and the suitcase was loaded in the back, H-er mumbled an apology.  “I’m sorry Jolene was in the car.  I know that is probably awkward.  I know it would be for me.  I wouldn’t like it.”

And I made a split decision.  I decided it wouldn’t be awkward for me.   So I marched right up to the window, knocked on it and after she rolled the window down I said, “Hi.  Nice to meet you.”  She said hi back and thanked me for mailing her stuff back to her.  “No problem."  (Big Smile) "Have a Happy Thanksgiving.”

Was I thrilled that I have to meet the woman he cheated with?  No.  Am I thrilled that my boys get to spend Thanksgiving with the woman he cheated with? No.  But apparently she is going to be in my life forever now so I better just deal with it. 

I even mentioned to H-er that they boys had asked if we would ever all spend a holiday together again and that it would be nice if someday relations were such that we could spend a holiday together for the sake of the boys and Jolene could come too.  Yes I nearly gagged as I said it, but I still said it. (It won't be this Christmas.)

I did pretty well over the weekend.  I was with family so that helped.  When my sisters asked me how I was doing I talked about the grief I feel (and we cried and then laughed at ourselves because we had all JUST applied our eye makeup).

**********

Sunday night I picked them up and as we drove the five hours home I learned that she is really nice and fun and “modern” so they get along with her (unlike the “old” guy I’m dating – who expects them to help out around the house, do chores, pick up after themselves, etc., and who was “forced on them”). She loaded them up with Takis (the treat I always buy them), listens to music with them, sends them birthday gifts—in short—they like her.  And they don’t like the guy I’m dating. 

So to be honest I am struggling with the fact that I should be glad she is nice to my boys, yet I am not because I'm jealous.  If it was any other woman I think I’d be okay with it.  But it’s the woman he cheated with.  

Why should she get to contribute to the break up of my marriage and be rewarded with MY boys good will, yet a guy who treats me well and who had nothing to do with my divorce gets resentment and disrespect?  For a brief minute there is a flash of anger which means there is a mess of painful feelings hammering me that I'd rather not face:  jealousy, betrayal, disappointment (that they don’t like the guy I’m dating and they like the one he is dating), loss, even shame for feeling negative emotions.  

Just acknowledging them dissolves the anger.  It's painful.  But as my sister said when I told them sometimes I just had to cry and allow myself to grieve:  "Hey, at least now you know you aren't a psychopath".