The "How's it Going" Question

Credit

Today after church, I was stopped by a man in my ward who asked me how school is going. My response was hesitant at first. I didn't know what to say because I'm constantly fighting depression, and honestly, school is hard. And saying that is being relatively optimistic. When I answered him, I chose, "School is great. (smile and pause.) But it's also hard and stressful." I thought that was a good answer. It was the truth, and I was not dragging on about the hard and stressful part. Then he looked at me and said, "So it's great."

"Well yeah, it's great. But it's also hard." Not really sure why I couldn't just leave it just at great.

"It's great." Why can't he accept the hard part?

"Yes, But hard too." Still not sure why I had to keep saying it.

"Well you only needed to say its great. I don't need to know its stressful."

Pause.

Then he said, "It helps you be more positive if you focus on the great and not the hard." Good advice, I guess, but as I wrote in my last post, I've been in denial about things going on in my life. I don't think dishonesty with myself is the answer to being more happy. My final response to him was, "Well it really doesn't help me feel better about things if I have to lie to people about how I feel when they ask me how it's going." Then he laughed and said his job sucks, and that he keeps telling himself it's great in hopes that it will somehow change the situation, and he will convince himself it really is great. Hm... doesn't seem to me like lying to yourself is the answer to optimism. But we're all different, and maybe that works for him. I like the quote I found for my picture at the top of this post. "If you want to be happy, be." That's my philosophy. I can't force myself to be happy. I can only be and make the best of what is, and that is how I can become happier.

Okay, this conversation made me think about a lot of things that have actually been on my mind lately. Why do we have to be so closed?! Why is it not okay to say I'm stressed out? Why is there this societal phobia of saying anything negative in public? (Okay, maybe an exaggeration. But you have to admit, it is pretty bad. People don't want to hear negativity. Even if you aren't being negative, even if you are being realistic, people don't want to hear it.)

My issue isn't with this guy and the conversation I had with him.  My issue is with the fact that it's how society as a whole expects us to be. Closed. Tough. Perfect. No one should know about our inner struggles. We're supposed to pretend we don't have any.

I disagree. How much better would our lives be if we gave honest answers to the "Hi, how are you?" question? How much better would our lives (and others' lives) be if we actually cared to know people's honest answers?

In my ideal world, people would ask me those kinds of questions and actually care about the answer. I could say, "You know, things are kind of hard right now. But I'm holding on. I'm trying to make it work." Maybe I could even mention porn (gasp!). If they asked what they could do for me, they could accept a simple answer like "Please pray for me." They wouldn't need to solve all my problems--they would just let me cry, and they would cry with me. 

I think we could all be more compassionate and understanding. I think we should speak up. For heaven's sake, if someone asks you how you're doing, and you're not doing well at all, tell them. Okay, okay, you don't have to go into detail because that may be pushing it, but you could say something like, "I'm actually having a hard time right now, thanks for asking. It's nice to know someone cares about me. How are you?" And maybe, if they really do care, they will ask to know more about why you aren't doing well. And maybe you will feel safe enough to tell them. And maybe they would show some love and compassion towards you when they see that side of you. I think it's safe to say we would all be at least a little more compassionate if we knew what was really going on in people's lives. (And society could sure use a little more compassion.)

We all have stories. We are all living hard lives. Seriously, that is what life is. It's hard. We are here to experience pain and grow. We are here to live this life and become more like Christ through it so we can live with God again. It just makes it all the more hard when we have to put on that perfect persona and waltz through life like we are sitting on clouds and eating ice cream like it's a vegetable. No one is doing that. No one has that perfect life. 

People have mistaken me for having a perfect life. You know what I want to say to them? I want to word vomit all over them. I want to share with them every little detail about how hard things are and then say, now tell me how perfect you think my life is. But I don't. Because I am told that society doesn't want to hear my inner struggles. Those inner struggles are for me and those very intimately close to me. Like my husband, who is addicted to porn (not a jab, just an honest statement for effect). But as I've shared more with people, that has helped me develop more intimate relationships. 

Like I said, we all have stories. We have different abilities to carry trials and bear different burdens. Some people's trials may seem impossible. Our trials may seem impossible to others. Some trials may seem trivial, but to that person, it's HUGE. We all have stories, and I think there is power in coming together with our stories. I think there is power in letting people be open and share themselves. 

There is power in vulnerability. 

I wish society would let us be more vulnerable instead of saying, "I don't want to hear that. Just tell me how awesome and perfect your life is."

"If you want to be happy, be." Be you. Be brave. Be honest about your life. Let things be, and let them work themselves out how they need to.

My Secret Life

Even though I've known about the addiction for 2.5 years, it's still hard for me to digest. Sometimes I go back and think about things as they once were (or as I thought they were) and I just miss it. I miss the mornings that we didn't get out of bed for hours because we just wanted to be together. I miss the feelings of bliss. I miss the innocent joy. Didn't we all get married with some different fairy tale than what we got in mind?

It's not like we are doing horribly or that our lives are awful. They aren't. We're actually doing pretty well, all things considered. Plus, he is 33 days sober! Don't let that fool you, though. One thing I've learned is that the length of sobriety time does not determine my happiness. If I'm still grieving or depressed or whatever, I'm still there. I have to work through it and come to terms with things on my own time. So, even with that awesome sobriety (great job, Ben!), we are still facing consequences of the addiction. And that is okay. It's just sad too.

I'm stuck in the grief cycle. I don't really know where I am. It changes from day to day, and it all fluctuates between denial, anger, and depression. And, I know it to be possible to experience all three of those in the same day. When that happens, well, we'll just call it one heck of a day.

I actually wonder why I'm still in denial (or maybe it's not that I'm still in denial, but I am again. There have been times when I felt like I accepted things. But then more addiction happens and I sometimes hit denial again). I mean, HELLOOOOOO, do I need to repeat what I said in my first sentence? I've known about the addiction for 2.5 YEARS. That should be long enough to come to terms and accept that this is my life. Except for the fact that I haven't finished grieving what I thought we had--what I thought we had many times and then discovered lies. And I'm still grieving what might or might not be. I'm grieving the changes that have happened that cause me to fear the future (a little bit). I still can't believe this is happening to ME, to US. The marriage that I worked so hard for is not what I thought it was. My plan is on the floor around me, broken.

I'm learning to not rely on plans. I'm learning to just live, and that's how I'm able to face all of this head on. Well, that is through the grace of God. I'm definitely not doing this on my own.

I realized I'm still in denial and trying too hard to fight depression last night. Last night I did a couples satisfaction survey on ADDO. Apparently, I am currently dissatisfied with my marriage. The results of that survey came partially as a shock (because I was in denial of how messy and dissatisfied I feel), and partially as a relief--like a deep breath of truth and honesty with myself. I'm dissatisfied. That's okay. We are working. He is working on recovery. Things can get better. If I said I was satisfied, I would be lying to myself. That's what I've been doing. So, now, I'm just trying to embrace.

I hate denial. I hate anger. I hate depression. I'm glad I'm facing them head on, and I'm really trying not to shove these feelings off. I'm trying to pick myself up every day and get a move on.

Okay, enough rambling. Here is the main thing I want you to get from this post. Ready?

If you are suffering because someone you love has an addiction (any addiction), and you are in silence, stop the silence. Now. Open up to someone. Let it out. Cry to someone you trust to not be judgmental of the situation.

Allow yourself to feel. Step out of denial.

Maybe this is just me, but I feel like I have been in denial for too long. I think that is because I have kept this part of my life a big secret for so long. Because, seriously, how hard is it to accept something when that part of your life is a complete secret from the rest of the world? I didn't tell anyone. For a long time. When I did finally tell someone, I rarely brought it up after that.

And now? Now, I have a circle of support. I have friends I can talk to. I have friends who I can cry to, who won't judge me or my husband. I'm allowing myself to live in this mess, and I'm starting to be okay with it. I'm not quite yet in the acceptance part of the grief cycle. I'm still fighting it. I don't do change well. And I don't want this to be happening. But I'll get there one day. I'll accept it better. That's what I'm working on right now.

If you don't know who you can talk to, talk to me. I'd love to get to know you :)

Denial and Timing

We didn't start going to the LDS 12-step addiction recovery program right away. In fact, it wasn't until a little over a year after I found out about my husband's addiction that we went to a meeting for the first time.

I wanted to go right away. After the initial shock, I was completely set on trying to find ways to help my husband. And myself. I don't remember what exactly I googled, but I found the addiction recovery program, and I wanted to go. My husband, on the other hand, did not. He kept saying that it wasn't a big deal, it wasn't as bad as I thought, and that he didn't feel like he needed to go. Well, I was new to this, so even though I saw that there were family support meetings, I didn't feel like I should go without him. So I told him we didn't have to go. I wanted to wait until he was ready and he wanted to go.

Let me clear up something that might be confusing. When I say "family support" or spouse support, or whatever, it's a support group for the friend/family member/spouse/etc. I thought it was a group we went to as spouses to show our support for our loved one with addiction and make them feel supported by their family. And it is that, but it's much more. If you have been hurt by someone's addiction, that is normal. That is okay. And there are groups out there to support you. To help you recover. And that is what I am talking about when I say "family support." If I had understood that, I might have just started going without him, which could have been really helpful to us.

I started my last post by saying that I was in denial of my husband's addiction. Well, he was also in denial. He really was against going to addiction recovery meetings because he didn't fully consider himself an addict. Or maybe he just didn't consider himself an addict enough to go to recovery meetings. He thought he could do it on his own. He thought he could recover on his own and that somehow this would all just go in our past and maybe we could laugh about it in the future. I sincerely hope that happens.

I couldn't force him out of his denial. I didn't even understand what he was going through. When he said he was fine, I wanted to believe him. When he promised he was stopping, I wanted so badly to believe him. But I couldn't force him to go. I couldn't shake him and shout, "No! You are not recovering and so we have to go to this recovery program!" I couldn't do that. But I am grateful for the tender mercies of the Lord that led us to the program when the time was right. I've learned that you can't rush these things. Oh, you want to so badly. You want to do everything in your power to shake your addicted loved one into soberness and recovery. You want to do everything you can to take whatever control you can get because if you are in control, things will happen the way you want them to. But you can't get control. God has control, and He has a plan. Yes, He has a plan, even in the recovery of one's addiction. I can tell you right now that we would have had a much different experience had we started the addiction recovery program sooner--not that our experience wouldn't have been good. But I feel like the timing of things has been perfect for us.

When the timing was right, my husband was humble enough to admit that help was needed. And I was grateful and willing to accompany him to meetings, attend my support group while he attended his, talk about what we learned after, and help hold him accountable for his actions. We're still in recovery. But the place we are in recovery is very different from where we were one year ago. We have made so much progress! It really excites me! Because one year ago, we didn't have very much hope. I wanted to hope, and had a slim hope, that we would be free of the chains of addiction. And that our marriage would survive this. But now I know that we will be free of this one day, as long as we are faithful. As long as we remain true to God and do what He wants us to do, He will help us be free of this bondage when we have been refined enough from this trial.

In my last post, I talked about my theory about two types of trials. Some of you may have been thinking, um, hello, a pornography addiction is definitely the first type (where you suffer as the result of someone's agency). And that is true. My pain is a direct result of my husband's use of agency. BUT--at the young age when he became addicted, he did not understand the consequences. We often don't fully understand the consequences. But a 12 or 13 year old boy really doesn't understand the consequences of looking at that first pornographic image or video. But, that's not all. The other type of trial, the trial that is because God wants to test you, also applies in this situation. The reason why I believe this is that type of trial is because my husband has done so much to rid himself of this addiction. He even cleaned up more than a year before serving his mission, served a great mission for the Lord, and returned honorably. He thought he was free. But it kept coming back. And when we got married, he thought he had freed himself already. But it kept coming back. And last year, he thought he had sobered up, but it came back again. He really tries so hard to be a faithful servant, but he hasn't been able to really become free of this addiction yet. He still has refining to do. He has learning and becoming to do. And as for me. . . well, I didn't choose this. This was not on my checklist of things that would make my happily ever after. But I'm getting through it. And I'm realizing the strength that God is helping me gain every day.

So, yeah, I know that we will be free of this one day, as long as we continue to be faithful. No matter how hard it gets, I have learned to turn to the Lord and see things with an eternal perspective. I trust Him, and I know that He will not let me down as long as I keep my covenants and serve Him to the end.

**Note: Even if my husband was not in recovery mode, I firmly believe that I would still be healing. Because it's really not about my husband recovering. It's about my relationship with the Lord. And in my case, I feel extremely blessed that my husband is trying to overcome this. But not everyone is to that point. And not everyone's marriages work out. I wish they did, but some marriages can't survive stuff like this. My hope in sharing this blog is ultimately to share my experiences coming to Christ and understanding the gospel better. And hopefully, whatever you are going through, you (and your spouse, if applicable) will have hope to come unto Christ too.**