A lot has changed in the five months since I wrote my last post. Also, it's weird that it's been five months. I remember back in the day where I was in daily trauma and needing to write to process. I couldn't handle missing more than a day or two, and here I am thinking, "I don't even remember what my last post was about." Strange, yeah?
I could write about a lot of things, but I have no clue where I'm going with this. I just need to process some feelings, and it will be a surprise even to me at what spills out right here.
This week has been very hard. I won't go into detail because there are some things going on that we don't want to make public (not specifically related to addiction). So anyway, this week has been very hard. I feel drained. Then, something happened this weekend that pushed me over the edge. This something is related to a support group for the addiction, which is why I'm writing about it here. Because this is my place to be vulnerable and process things like that.
I thought I was fine. I thought I allowed myself to grieve and process it as I talked about it to a handful of my tribe. But, it's still here. I still feel the pain. The problem is, I always try to push my feelings away. I think I'm doing good by talking it out, but I don't do all the things I can feel my spirit and body wanting me to do. I try to rush myself through the process, and I don't think emotions are actually something that can be rushed. Whenever I rush them, they just come back stronger than before. And that's how I'm feeling this morning. I've been running for weeks, and everything has just come to head with this final thing that topped off my week, and my body is telling me to slow down and let myself feel.
This morning, I feel light headed. I feel like I might pass out. I feel like my breathing isn't right. I keep having to stop and do mindful breathing. I don't feel like I am fully present. I feel fear. I feel anxious. My muscles are tight--in my legs, my back, my neck, and my shoulders. The muscles in my face feel tight, too.
Sometimes I put too much weight on validation from outside sources, and I don't validate myself enough. I may not validate myself if I'm not validated by others. Questions like Am I overreacting? Should I feel this way? hurt my spirit because my spirit is saying, "Hey, I am hurting. Please acknowledge me, please let me feel this way." But if someone says, "Kilee, you are overreacting," then I shove my emotions back, and then my spirit hurts even more.
So today, I am practicing mindfulness (something I've been imperfectly working on over the past month). I am recognizing the signs my body is giving me that I am not okay. And I am trying to let myself be not okay. I am taking measures to allow myself to feel and process, and I will allow myself to move on when my spirit feels acknowledged and ready to move on.
Showing posts with label feeling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feeling. Show all posts
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Heavy
I don't really know what to write; I just feel the need to write.
I've been struggling lately with feeling stretched way too thin. I'm being pulled in so many directions, and lately whenever I study the scriptures I keep feeling like I am not enough. That's not what I'm supposed to be feeling. I know God loves me. I have no doubt about that. But quite often, I just don't feel like I measure up. I think I'm doing the best I can in the circumstances I'm in, but I constantly feel like I don't do enough: I don't serve enough, I don't clean enough, I don't try hard enough, I don't study my scriptures or pray enough, I don't listen enough, I don't keep the Sabbath holy enough, I don't work recovery enough, I'm not patient enough. This list could go on, but I already feel so exhausted from writing it.
I recently had a close friend (who lives out of state but I saw briefly at UCAP last weekend) ask me if I was doing okay because from talking to me on a regular basis, I sound fine, but when she saw me in person last weekend, I did not seem fine. She said I seemed like I felt heavy, and that I wasn't myself.
And the thing is, I do feel heavy. And it was such a tender mercy to have someone see that and reach out in love. We had a really good chat about it, but it hasn't left my mind.
I feel heavy because of the addiction. We are trying to get pregnant, but the addiction isn't too far from my mind. My husband can't partake of the sacrament, attend the temple, or exercise the priesthood even at home (in the past, bishops have had him exercise the priesthood at home but not at church, so this is totally new and heavy to me because whenever I feel like I or the baby could use a blessing, I can't ask him and I just feel like a burden asking anyone else). We are both seeing counselors regularly, and talk of the addiction and recovery is very present. That's not an entirely bad thing except for the time and attention it has to take from other things I feel are important. Then there is the time spent working recovery and attending meetings (...if we attended meetings, but time).
I also feel heavy because both my husband and I are suffering physical back problems. If you have never experienced a chronic physical issue, just know it takes a huge toll. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It beats you down. And because we are both suffering these physical problems at the same time, it's kind of hard to share parenting and home responsibilities when we are both in pain.
I feel heavy because I don't get nearly enough time for myself. I don't even know how to spend quality time doing things for myself because by the end of the day, I am completely exhausted and pretty much just want to watch Netflix.
I feel heavy because of fears that stop me from producing or practicing art.
This list could go on too, but it's too much effort.
I know I have much to be grateful for, and I think sometimes I at least myself because I feel guilty for feeling heavy from all these things. I feel like my life is constantly trying to figure out how to balance everything, failing, and trying again tomorrow. I do take time every day to be grateful (there really is so much beauty and joy in every day. Don't get me wrong. But right now I just need to focus on the hard stuff), but sometimes (or quite often) the heaviness just weighs everything else down and it's hard to get up.
I go through phases where I try really hard in my life. I try to be grateful, I try to serve, I try to clean and love my child and love my husband and love God and love everyone... And then I just get exhausted and I'm like uhhhh I don't know what to do except lay on the couch and watch Netflix and eat cookies and ice cream (which I do try to do sparingly).
Whoa. My head hurts and I'm ready to be done, but I don't really know how to end this. Just keeping it real.
The end. Ha.
I've been struggling lately with feeling stretched way too thin. I'm being pulled in so many directions, and lately whenever I study the scriptures I keep feeling like I am not enough. That's not what I'm supposed to be feeling. I know God loves me. I have no doubt about that. But quite often, I just don't feel like I measure up. I think I'm doing the best I can in the circumstances I'm in, but I constantly feel like I don't do enough: I don't serve enough, I don't clean enough, I don't try hard enough, I don't study my scriptures or pray enough, I don't listen enough, I don't keep the Sabbath holy enough, I don't work recovery enough, I'm not patient enough. This list could go on, but I already feel so exhausted from writing it.
I recently had a close friend (who lives out of state but I saw briefly at UCAP last weekend) ask me if I was doing okay because from talking to me on a regular basis, I sound fine, but when she saw me in person last weekend, I did not seem fine. She said I seemed like I felt heavy, and that I wasn't myself.
And the thing is, I do feel heavy. And it was such a tender mercy to have someone see that and reach out in love. We had a really good chat about it, but it hasn't left my mind.
I feel heavy because of the addiction. We are trying to get pregnant, but the addiction isn't too far from my mind. My husband can't partake of the sacrament, attend the temple, or exercise the priesthood even at home (in the past, bishops have had him exercise the priesthood at home but not at church, so this is totally new and heavy to me because whenever I feel like I or the baby could use a blessing, I can't ask him and I just feel like a burden asking anyone else). We are both seeing counselors regularly, and talk of the addiction and recovery is very present. That's not an entirely bad thing except for the time and attention it has to take from other things I feel are important. Then there is the time spent working recovery and attending meetings (...if we attended meetings, but time).
I also feel heavy because both my husband and I are suffering physical back problems. If you have never experienced a chronic physical issue, just know it takes a huge toll. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It beats you down. And because we are both suffering these physical problems at the same time, it's kind of hard to share parenting and home responsibilities when we are both in pain.
I feel heavy because I don't get nearly enough time for myself. I don't even know how to spend quality time doing things for myself because by the end of the day, I am completely exhausted and pretty much just want to watch Netflix.
I feel heavy because of fears that stop me from producing or practicing art.
This list could go on too, but it's too much effort.
I know I have much to be grateful for, and I think sometimes I at least myself because I feel guilty for feeling heavy from all these things. I feel like my life is constantly trying to figure out how to balance everything, failing, and trying again tomorrow. I do take time every day to be grateful (there really is so much beauty and joy in every day. Don't get me wrong. But right now I just need to focus on the hard stuff), but sometimes (or quite often) the heaviness just weighs everything else down and it's hard to get up.
I go through phases where I try really hard in my life. I try to be grateful, I try to serve, I try to clean and love my child and love my husband and love God and love everyone... And then I just get exhausted and I'm like uhhhh I don't know what to do except lay on the couch and watch Netflix and eat cookies and ice cream (which I do try to do sparingly).
Whoa. My head hurts and I'm ready to be done, but I don't really know how to end this. Just keeping it real.
The end. Ha.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
I haven't forgiven him
I've been thinking a lot.
I don't even know if my words can adequately describe what has been on my mind and heart. It's been two months since I last wrote here, and, well, that's a lot of thoughts.
I'll try to stick to what prompted me to come to my computer and write, and we will see where it goes from there.
We have been married for almost five and a half years. I've known about the addiction for almost five. It's been a long road, and anticipate a much longer road ahead. Because I don't anticipate divorce (although I do keep it in the back burner for protection).
For much of our marriage, I've tried to be Christlike. In how I've treated Ben, in how I've treated others, in how I've sought revelation. I've tried to forgive. I've tried to be merciful and loving. And yet, sometimes I still feel this gaping hole in my soul. And that is what I have been thinking about.
I haven't forgiven him. I think I did at one point. I forgave and tried to move on. I try to live in the present and seek guidance from the Lord with each situation. But as more came out in our marriage, it became harder to forgive.
I hoped when our son was born that it could be a fresh start for our family. In some ways, it has been. The past year has been beautiful and amazing. But it's also been heartbreaking and hard. I definitely wouldn't change a thing (well, except the addiction. that can go away)--meaning I don't wish I was divorced or something because I love my little family.
But two years ago, this month, Ben confessed some things to me. Things that he thought would be deal breakers. Things he thought would finally break me and make me file for divorce. He did it because he was coming clean and trying to enter real recovery for the first time ever. I admire him for that, and I am so grateful he started that journey. Things have been up and down over the past two years. He started doing really well then things spiraled down again. It's just tough to keep chugging along sometimes.
And my point of all of this is that I recently realized I haven't forgiven him. I keep thinking maybe I have, but I haven't. And I don't know how. Which is extremely discouraging because I know that our relationship can't be healed or whole, and I can't be whole, until I forgive him. I'm not trying to rush that (okay, maybe a little because it's starting to stress me out). I don't know how to forgive, and I feel like it's taking so much effort and energy.
I want to continue on with our life. I want to trust and forgive him. I want to have more kids, and I want our lives to become this magical place where I can look back and say, "The road was rough, but we made it." I think we are on that road, and maybe we will get to that place one day. But dangit, I'm tired of being patient on the journey. I just want to get there already.
I don't really know what's in store. But I'm trying really hard to work on me and take things one day at a time. I'm trying to seek God's will and have hope and faith in His plan for me. He can see all, and I can only see right now.
I wish there was a recipe for forgiveness. But, alas, there is not. I think I'm holding on to it because somewhere in my brain I think forgiveness is synonymous with trust. I know it's not, but there must be part of me that thinks that because I think I'm unable to forgive as I'm using it as some kind of protection. I'm trying to learn how to let that go so I can move on and be made whole.
I don't even know if my words can adequately describe what has been on my mind and heart. It's been two months since I last wrote here, and, well, that's a lot of thoughts.
I'll try to stick to what prompted me to come to my computer and write, and we will see where it goes from there.
We have been married for almost five and a half years. I've known about the addiction for almost five. It's been a long road, and anticipate a much longer road ahead. Because I don't anticipate divorce (although I do keep it in the back burner for protection).
For much of our marriage, I've tried to be Christlike. In how I've treated Ben, in how I've treated others, in how I've sought revelation. I've tried to forgive. I've tried to be merciful and loving. And yet, sometimes I still feel this gaping hole in my soul. And that is what I have been thinking about.
I haven't forgiven him. I think I did at one point. I forgave and tried to move on. I try to live in the present and seek guidance from the Lord with each situation. But as more came out in our marriage, it became harder to forgive.
I hoped when our son was born that it could be a fresh start for our family. In some ways, it has been. The past year has been beautiful and amazing. But it's also been heartbreaking and hard. I definitely wouldn't change a thing (well, except the addiction. that can go away)--meaning I don't wish I was divorced or something because I love my little family.
But two years ago, this month, Ben confessed some things to me. Things that he thought would be deal breakers. Things he thought would finally break me and make me file for divorce. He did it because he was coming clean and trying to enter real recovery for the first time ever. I admire him for that, and I am so grateful he started that journey. Things have been up and down over the past two years. He started doing really well then things spiraled down again. It's just tough to keep chugging along sometimes.
And my point of all of this is that I recently realized I haven't forgiven him. I keep thinking maybe I have, but I haven't. And I don't know how. Which is extremely discouraging because I know that our relationship can't be healed or whole, and I can't be whole, until I forgive him. I'm not trying to rush that (okay, maybe a little because it's starting to stress me out). I don't know how to forgive, and I feel like it's taking so much effort and energy.
I want to continue on with our life. I want to trust and forgive him. I want to have more kids, and I want our lives to become this magical place where I can look back and say, "The road was rough, but we made it." I think we are on that road, and maybe we will get to that place one day. But dangit, I'm tired of being patient on the journey. I just want to get there already.
I don't really know what's in store. But I'm trying really hard to work on me and take things one day at a time. I'm trying to seek God's will and have hope and faith in His plan for me. He can see all, and I can only see right now.
I wish there was a recipe for forgiveness. But, alas, there is not. I think I'm holding on to it because somewhere in my brain I think forgiveness is synonymous with trust. I know it's not, but there must be part of me that thinks that because I think I'm unable to forgive as I'm using it as some kind of protection. I'm trying to learn how to let that go so I can move on and be made whole.
Thursday, October 8, 2015
Victories
Wow, I can't believe it's been a month since I last wrote. And what a month it has been!
I'm celebrating a small victory today. I've been really working on myself--learning how to accept my life as it is, find who I truly am, and honor myself in my choices. I'm not perfect at it yet (I still spend way too much time on facebook during down when I could be doing much more meaningful things), but I am becoming better at honoring myself.
I did this life-coaching program with Jacy, and it was seriously the best decision I could have made for myself right now. Through this program, I learned how to take charge of my life. This is especially crucial regarding my relationship with Ben because I tend to sit back and make sure he is able to do his thing and work his recovery while not getting much done for myself. I'm figuring out how to prioritize the things in my life, and I'm learning that really each day is different and sometimes things take a higher priority on certain days.
Anyway, because of this work I've been doing for myself, I was able to write this in my journal today:
I have a lot of fear for our future. He is working on his recovery right now, and he is doing a lot of great things with his recovery, but because of circumstances in the past, I fear the future. However, I am not living by that fear. It's there, and I can embrace it and feel it, but I am learning how to let it flow through me and keep moving.
Little victories. I'm finding myself emerging from the darkness and actually being able to stay in the light. I'm doing my best to take care of myself, while also meeting the demands of life and motherhood. I love what I'm seeing taking place right now!
I'm celebrating a small victory today. I've been really working on myself--learning how to accept my life as it is, find who I truly am, and honor myself in my choices. I'm not perfect at it yet (I still spend way too much time on facebook during down when I could be doing much more meaningful things), but I am becoming better at honoring myself.
I did this life-coaching program with Jacy, and it was seriously the best decision I could have made for myself right now. Through this program, I learned how to take charge of my life. This is especially crucial regarding my relationship with Ben because I tend to sit back and make sure he is able to do his thing and work his recovery while not getting much done for myself. I'm figuring out how to prioritize the things in my life, and I'm learning that really each day is different and sometimes things take a higher priority on certain days.
Anyway, because of this work I've been doing for myself, I was able to write this in my journal today:
My recovery isn't dependent on whether or not Ben maintains recovery. My healing is about me and my ability to live true to myself no matter what.Ben had a recent relapse. And it kind of didn't affect me. Not that I don't care that he relapsed, but I was able to see beyond the relapse. I was able to really see him and not focus on the porn, masturbation, or fantasies (although writing that out puts me into a bit of a spiral... but I'm letting it work through me instead of staying with me). I could empathize with his frustrations at himself and the things that led to his relapse. I could recognize and appreciate his honesty and desire to become better and shake off this relapse.
I have a lot of fear for our future. He is working on his recovery right now, and he is doing a lot of great things with his recovery, but because of circumstances in the past, I fear the future. However, I am not living by that fear. It's there, and I can embrace it and feel it, but I am learning how to let it flow through me and keep moving.
Little victories. I'm finding myself emerging from the darkness and actually being able to stay in the light. I'm doing my best to take care of myself, while also meeting the demands of life and motherhood. I love what I'm seeing taking place right now!
Thursday, January 22, 2015
He understands
I realized today that I'm not including God enough in my recovery and healing.
I've had a lot of emotions swirling through me in the past 15 hours. This morning, as I have been riding out the wave, I've wondered who to talk to and what to do. The pull to talk to my usual support people isn't very strong right now because I fear that I will be told enough is enough. I'm afraid people won't support me in some of my decisions right now. And I just can't deal with that.
But I need guidance. And the thing is, no one can give me guidance. My friends and support people can tell me what they think based on their own experiences and limited knowledge of my relationship with my husband, but no one can really tell me what to do. I can't even tell me where to go from here because I honestly have no clue.
As I mulled this over and started feeling a little helpless, I remembered that God is there. He always listens, and He can see all. He knows what to do.
He understands the intense love I feel for Ben, even when he messes up. Along with that, He understands the inner conflict of emotions I have when Ben messes up.
He understands the pain I feel from the addiction.
He understands the heartache I feel to watch Ben struggle to overcome this beast that has been with him for over half his life.
He understands the fears I have regarding the addiction and our future family.
And He understands that I just can't deal with the addiction right now. I'm too pregnant. It's too hard.
So He can lift me up and hold me. And He can help me get through each moment.
I'm sad that I forgot how amazing God is. I've been doing the checklist of things to turn to Him every day, but it takes more effort to really include Him in my life. So that's what I'm working on--and I know I'll be okay.
My doctor says the baby can come any time. I'm hoping for sooner rather than later. But I'll trust God's timing on bringing this child to my arms as well as the other things I'm working on turning over to Him.
I've had a lot of emotions swirling through me in the past 15 hours. This morning, as I have been riding out the wave, I've wondered who to talk to and what to do. The pull to talk to my usual support people isn't very strong right now because I fear that I will be told enough is enough. I'm afraid people won't support me in some of my decisions right now. And I just can't deal with that.
But I need guidance. And the thing is, no one can give me guidance. My friends and support people can tell me what they think based on their own experiences and limited knowledge of my relationship with my husband, but no one can really tell me what to do. I can't even tell me where to go from here because I honestly have no clue.
As I mulled this over and started feeling a little helpless, I remembered that God is there. He always listens, and He can see all. He knows what to do.
He understands the intense love I feel for Ben, even when he messes up. Along with that, He understands the inner conflict of emotions I have when Ben messes up.
He understands the pain I feel from the addiction.
He understands the heartache I feel to watch Ben struggle to overcome this beast that has been with him for over half his life.
He understands the fears I have regarding the addiction and our future family.
And He understands that I just can't deal with the addiction right now. I'm too pregnant. It's too hard.
So He can lift me up and hold me. And He can help me get through each moment.
I'm sad that I forgot how amazing God is. I've been doing the checklist of things to turn to Him every day, but it takes more effort to really include Him in my life. So that's what I'm working on--and I know I'll be okay.
My doctor says the baby can come any time. I'm hoping for sooner rather than later. But I'll trust God's timing on bringing this child to my arms as well as the other things I'm working on turning over to Him.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Honoring my Heart
I recently reached out to a support group to share a journal entry I had written about my most recent counseling session.
I'm having a love-hate relationship with counseling right now. Mostly on the side of hate.
Too many things have happened that make me feel squeamish and uncomfortable. I feel my heart yelling, "THIS IS NOT SAFE!" because of things he has said and opinions he has shared that differ from my core beliefs.
As my wonderful sisters reached out to me to offer love and support, one of them pointed out that my description of my counselor and things he said (specifically yesterday) made her uncomfortable. She said she is learning to honor that in herself.
I need to honor that in myself as well. I am the type of person who always looks for the benefit of the doubt. So, even though I feel unsafe being vulnerable with my counselor, I keep telling myself things like, "He is a good guy," or "He was recommended to me by people who swear by him," or "He is a well sought-after LDS counselor in this area," or "Ben really likes him, though, and he is helping Ben a lot," and giving him the benefit of the doubt that somehow, eventually, I will feel safe and it will be a great counseling experience. I mean, in reality, he has done a lot of good for me. He has helped me see some things with more clarity. But that isn't outweighing the additional pains I am suffering because of things he has said to me.
My heart is screaming at me to get out and find someone else. Or just stop going to counseling altogether (because I can handle this on my own...which I know is probably not true and I know with a baby there will be all kinds of added stress that I will probably need help with anyway).
So, my goal for myself is to honor the feelings my heart is telling me. Not just with this situation, but in all things. God whispers. I need to focus on His whispers to my heart and allow myself to be open to what He is saying to me. Maybe this counselor was great for certain things. And maybe he is great for certain people. But not me. Not right now. So I think I need to listen to the red flags my heart is signaling.
I'm having a love-hate relationship with counseling right now. Mostly on the side of hate.
Too many things have happened that make me feel squeamish and uncomfortable. I feel my heart yelling, "THIS IS NOT SAFE!" because of things he has said and opinions he has shared that differ from my core beliefs.
As my wonderful sisters reached out to me to offer love and support, one of them pointed out that my description of my counselor and things he said (specifically yesterday) made her uncomfortable. She said she is learning to honor that in herself.
I need to honor that in myself as well. I am the type of person who always looks for the benefit of the doubt. So, even though I feel unsafe being vulnerable with my counselor, I keep telling myself things like, "He is a good guy," or "He was recommended to me by people who swear by him," or "He is a well sought-after LDS counselor in this area," or "Ben really likes him, though, and he is helping Ben a lot," and giving him the benefit of the doubt that somehow, eventually, I will feel safe and it will be a great counseling experience. I mean, in reality, he has done a lot of good for me. He has helped me see some things with more clarity. But that isn't outweighing the additional pains I am suffering because of things he has said to me.
My heart is screaming at me to get out and find someone else. Or just stop going to counseling altogether (because I can handle this on my own...which I know is probably not true and I know with a baby there will be all kinds of added stress that I will probably need help with anyway).
So, my goal for myself is to honor the feelings my heart is telling me. Not just with this situation, but in all things. God whispers. I need to focus on His whispers to my heart and allow myself to be open to what He is saying to me. Maybe this counselor was great for certain things. And maybe he is great for certain people. But not me. Not right now. So I think I need to listen to the red flags my heart is signaling.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Loosening Boundaries?
Boundaries are tricky for me.
I think it's hard to enforce them because there is always this part of me that is in denial that this is my life. I don't want to have to enforce them because I don't want this to be happening. There is a place in my heart where I hope I'll wake up and realize this has all been a dream. I'll wake up and get married, having had this dream that will totally prepare me for my future. And my life will ROCK.
My life does rock though. And even though some days really suck, I feel really good about my life overall. Don't ask me about that on a bad day, though.
Back to boundaries.
Boundaries are specific to everyone and every circumstance. After last week's relapse, I had to really dig to figure out exactly what my needs were to help me feel safe. Part of me wanted to have him sleep on the couch indefinitely, but that was more out of punishment than my own safety. I wanted to punish him (and our couch is unbelievably uncomfortable to sleep on) and really make him feel sorry for what he has done.
That line of thinking just made me sad. I don't want to be an angry, vindictive person. But I have felt unsafe and insecure, so I knew I needed something. That something ended up being physical space in the time of trauma (asking him to leave the room while I thought and processed and had me-time) and emotional space in the form of reduced physical intimacy. I knew I still needed his physical presence in general, so asking him to sleep on the couch indefinitely would really just be an unnecessary punishment for us both.
Part of my boundaries also include safe, emotional communication. I need him to be a safe space for me. Thus, we had a long conversation (and multiple conversations) about how I was feeling and how everything was affecting me. Over the years of this stuff, he has learned how to be a safe emotional space for me, and I am grateful he listens and absorbs what I am trying to say. He also gets a chance to talk and I try to listen and absorb what he has to say. This practice helps me feel like he really is in recovery and is remorseful, rather than just going through the motions so I don't leave. And when we are able to be a safe space for each other, I feel like we are making true progress, even though there are bumps in the road.
Right now I'm getting to the point where I'm trying to figure out how and when to lessen these boundaries. Things are going well enough that I may not need this huge wall up. Sometimes I want to kiss him, really kiss him. Because of all the things that make me love him. But then the fears roll in, and I don't want to go through the emotional battlefield I faced last week again. It's happened too many times, and it's always painful and hard.
I'm not really concerned about figuring out this boundary thing. I'll do what I always do, which is to take it one day, one moment at a time. Our relationship will progress and things will fall into place as they should.
I guess the tricky thing is am I ready to put my heart fully on the line again? Because when I take that jump, I'm putting myself in a position to fall again.
I'm a believer in being vulnerable and taking risks. If I don't fully live, I won't fully love. And with every painful experience, I see how deep that love can be. I don't want to lessen my ability to love because of my fear of the pain. Unfortunately, pain and love go hand in hand.
But I'm also a believer in being smart and safe. I won't take unnecessary risks. I'll take the risk when I feel like it will produce something of great value.
So at this point, it's all about timing, safety, and security. Eventually I'll get back to where I want us to be. Maybe it will even be later today. Maybe it will be next month or next week. I'll throw some caution to the wind as I start making my way up to the place to jump.
I think it's hard to enforce them because there is always this part of me that is in denial that this is my life. I don't want to have to enforce them because I don't want this to be happening. There is a place in my heart where I hope I'll wake up and realize this has all been a dream. I'll wake up and get married, having had this dream that will totally prepare me for my future. And my life will ROCK.
My life does rock though. And even though some days really suck, I feel really good about my life overall. Don't ask me about that on a bad day, though.
Back to boundaries.
Boundaries are specific to everyone and every circumstance. After last week's relapse, I had to really dig to figure out exactly what my needs were to help me feel safe. Part of me wanted to have him sleep on the couch indefinitely, but that was more out of punishment than my own safety. I wanted to punish him (and our couch is unbelievably uncomfortable to sleep on) and really make him feel sorry for what he has done.
That line of thinking just made me sad. I don't want to be an angry, vindictive person. But I have felt unsafe and insecure, so I knew I needed something. That something ended up being physical space in the time of trauma (asking him to leave the room while I thought and processed and had me-time) and emotional space in the form of reduced physical intimacy. I knew I still needed his physical presence in general, so asking him to sleep on the couch indefinitely would really just be an unnecessary punishment for us both.
Part of my boundaries also include safe, emotional communication. I need him to be a safe space for me. Thus, we had a long conversation (and multiple conversations) about how I was feeling and how everything was affecting me. Over the years of this stuff, he has learned how to be a safe emotional space for me, and I am grateful he listens and absorbs what I am trying to say. He also gets a chance to talk and I try to listen and absorb what he has to say. This practice helps me feel like he really is in recovery and is remorseful, rather than just going through the motions so I don't leave. And when we are able to be a safe space for each other, I feel like we are making true progress, even though there are bumps in the road.
Right now I'm getting to the point where I'm trying to figure out how and when to lessen these boundaries. Things are going well enough that I may not need this huge wall up. Sometimes I want to kiss him, really kiss him. Because of all the things that make me love him. But then the fears roll in, and I don't want to go through the emotional battlefield I faced last week again. It's happened too many times, and it's always painful and hard.
I'm not really concerned about figuring out this boundary thing. I'll do what I always do, which is to take it one day, one moment at a time. Our relationship will progress and things will fall into place as they should.
I guess the tricky thing is am I ready to put my heart fully on the line again? Because when I take that jump, I'm putting myself in a position to fall again.
I'm a believer in being vulnerable and taking risks. If I don't fully live, I won't fully love. And with every painful experience, I see how deep that love can be. I don't want to lessen my ability to love because of my fear of the pain. Unfortunately, pain and love go hand in hand.
But I'm also a believer in being smart and safe. I won't take unnecessary risks. I'll take the risk when I feel like it will produce something of great value.
So at this point, it's all about timing, safety, and security. Eventually I'll get back to where I want us to be. Maybe it will even be later today. Maybe it will be next month or next week. I'll throw some caution to the wind as I start making my way up to the place to jump.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
The Bullets Won't Stop!
I've thought of writing this post all day. And every time, I just can't click the button to write a new post. Part of me is avoiding feeling what I'm about to feel as I write about this. But I'll feel it whether I write it or not, so here goes. It's also just really vulnerable and raw. So I hope for validation and love.
Yesterday was horrible. I survived, though, so I felt like a rock-star. Minus the crying. Crying always makes me feel a little less than rock-star status, hence the reminder that crying doesn't make me weak.
Because we moved and I'm pregnant, I decided to substitute teach this year rather than get a full-time teaching job. Subbing yesterday proved to be very challenging and was the base of my horribly hard day. After I finished the school day, I was grateful to go home, and I looked forward to the evening with Ben. I was counting on him to be a strength and comfort to me as I unleashed some of the trauma I experienced yesterday at school. And he was. Until he confessed some things.
Fast forward through the hours of tears shed last night to the point where I was actually able to process my feelings and get to the root of why this relapse impacted me so much worse than any have since April.
I'm raw from telling my story at Camp Scabs. I've recently revisited all the pain I have suffered our entire marriage. That pain has come from acts of infidelity, countless lies, and a breakdown of trust and love. And now I'm feeling all that pain again. I'm sitting in it. Because I've been let down in a major way that has let the trauma rush back in. Everything has come cycling back, and I can't get it to leave.
I've been feeling so much joy from the past six months. I've felt hope. I've seen his potential as a husband and father. I've seen our potential as a family.
We "started over" back in April. I allowed the past to be put behind us. I chose to let our relationship continue to develop rather than shutting it down. I chose to open my heart back up to trust and love. I gave him everything and am now carrying a baby with Ben's blood running through him.
I trusted Ben to work as hard as he could to find recovery. I trusted him with my heart and my child. I took a huge leap of faith, and I feel like I have been shot in the heart again. And again and again and AGAIN. The bullets won't stop coming. And they are getting closer and closer together. I'm afraid I might actually die. [Okay, not literally. But I'm certainly breaking.]
For a while, the relapses were growing farther apart. It's not ideal, but it gave me hope that real changes were happening. But the relapses are now growing closer together, and I can see that real changes are not happening. Or at least, they aren't happening as fast and as well as I thought they were.
Sometimes I can handle this well because I remind myself that it's an addiction and he needs help. And that the addiction won't just go away overnight. And that it's not about me, and it's not about infidelity. It's about addiction.
But when it comes to sex-addiction, you can't leave the infidelity out of it. It's an integral part of this addiction, and addiction plus infidelity SUCK SO BAD.
Porn doesn't just happen. And masturbation doesn't just happen. Little things trickle in and build up. Lust happens. I know it's not really about me, and I don't ever doubt Ben's love for me. But all the fantasies and lusting while watching porn is certainly infidelity.
And even if you're not sold on the idea that porn is infidelity, porn certainly leads there. With addiction, one level is never enough. It will grow worse and worse until there are physical acts of infidelity. [also, I'm really bad about minimizing because so many people in "the world" think porn is not a big deal. the struggle to validate myself is real. that is why this paragraph even exists. shut up, stupid brain.]
Most of my current trauma level stems from fear. He has said things to me in the past that make me afraid for our future. The fact that porn is creeping in more and more with less time in between each viewing worries me. I'm afraid he will give up and leave. I'm afraid he will become so hopeless that he is suicidal. I'm afraid it will grow from fantasy and brain work to physical affairs.
I'm afraid for our future family. I've seen families ripped apart by the effects of porn. THAT'S NOT IN MY PLAN! But I'm afraid it could arrive there by his choices.
I honestly feel a little ridiculous because I'm sitting here thinking of all the worst-case scenarios when the fact is, I still see hope. But I've had hope for so long... And fear feels natural.
The thing is, I still have hope. I still love him. I still see his potential as the father and husband he should be. And I am truly, deeply grateful for the healing that has taken place this summer because earlier this year I was almost ready to give up. Had we not experienced what we have, I would be ready to give up again. But I'm not. Because I love him, DANGIT! And I still have hope. And lots of swear words are running through my head right now.
It's not fair. It's just not fair. I can do everything "right" and still end up in a crap-hole because of someone else's agency.
But I do know this: I am not alone. I've been in so much pain the past 24 hours, but I've never felt alone. I've felt God circling me with His love, and He keeps showing me hope. So I guess I'm grateful for that.
Monday, October 6, 2014
Crying
Sometimes I have to remind myself that crying doesn't make me any less.
Crying doesn't mean I have "lost."
Crying doesn't mean I am weak.
If I cry after doing something hard, that doesn't mean it was any less of an accomplishment. I can do hard things, and the hard thing was still done even if it made me cry.
I may have cried today. But that's because today was one hell of a day. And I am one amazing person who can do hard things.
Crying doesn't mean I have "lost."
Crying doesn't mean I am weak.
If I cry after doing something hard, that doesn't mean it was any less of an accomplishment. I can do hard things, and the hard thing was still done even if it made me cry.
I may have cried today. But that's because today was one hell of a day. And I am one amazing person who can do hard things.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Which Wolf are You Feeding?
This morning in my 12-step work (Healing Through Christ), I read this parable:
“An elder Apache was teaching his grandchildren about life. He said to them, ‘A fight is going on inside me; it is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, self-pity, guilt, resentment, lies, and pride. The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. This same fight is going on inside you and inside every other person too.’ The grandchildren thought about the story for a minute and then one child asked his grandfather, ‘Which wolf will win?’ The old Grandfather simply replied, ‘The one you feed.’"
The follow-up question was, "Which wolf do you feed most often?"
It got me thinking (which was the point, yes I know). I've really been doing a lot of self-evaluation lately. In my efforts to allow myself to feel, rather than push away my pain, I think I allowed myself to feed the first wolf. I got to the point where fear, anger, self-pity, and resentment ruled me. I wasn't just feeding them--I felt like I was them. (So maybe I was feeding ME to the wolf?)
It's important to feel the emotions that come with this situation. When you push them away, they build up pressure and explode. And it's not pretty--not pretty at all. It's a most painful explosion, and any hope remaining could quickly diminish with the aftermath of that kind of explosion. Pushing away emotions is rarely the best response.
There lies a fine line between feeling the emotions but not letting them rule you. I don't know, maybe letting them rule you is just part of the process, but I'd like to think that you could appropriately deal with the emotions without becoming a casualty and being ruled by them. That's what I'm trying to figure out right now. I don't know where the line is between feeling the emotions and not letting them rule you, but I am certainly trying to discover it.
I want to feed the second wolf, the good wolf. I have been working on feeding that wolf more often. It comes through self-care. The more I care about myself and meet my needs (physical, spiritual, emotional, intellectual), the easier it is to feel joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, etc.--even if it's in tiny doses at a time.
I have felt the good wolf pulling out of the muck lately. I have felt a great increase in those positive emotions. It's not been an easy process, and I'm still hard at work. Sometimes I need to allow myself time to sit in the negative emotions, but I also need to pull myself back up and lean on Christ to feel the positive ones.
I had a moment on Friday where I felt truly, deeply happy. A feeling I haven't felt in a LONG time. Over the last little while, I've felt the tides turning, and I feel more hope than despair. That is a good thing. For the past however long, I've felt more despair than hope. I am excited for the changes coming my way, and I hope and pray that I can continue to turn my life over to God. I do know that it is through Him that I have gained the strength, hope, and peace I am currently feeling in my life.
Which wolf are you feeding?
“An elder Apache was teaching his grandchildren about life. He said to them, ‘A fight is going on inside me; it is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, self-pity, guilt, resentment, lies, and pride. The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. This same fight is going on inside you and inside every other person too.’ The grandchildren thought about the story for a minute and then one child asked his grandfather, ‘Which wolf will win?’ The old Grandfather simply replied, ‘The one you feed.’"
The follow-up question was, "Which wolf do you feed most often?"
It got me thinking (which was the point, yes I know). I've really been doing a lot of self-evaluation lately. In my efforts to allow myself to feel, rather than push away my pain, I think I allowed myself to feed the first wolf. I got to the point where fear, anger, self-pity, and resentment ruled me. I wasn't just feeding them--I felt like I was them. (So maybe I was feeding ME to the wolf?)
It's important to feel the emotions that come with this situation. When you push them away, they build up pressure and explode. And it's not pretty--not pretty at all. It's a most painful explosion, and any hope remaining could quickly diminish with the aftermath of that kind of explosion. Pushing away emotions is rarely the best response.
There lies a fine line between feeling the emotions but not letting them rule you. I don't know, maybe letting them rule you is just part of the process, but I'd like to think that you could appropriately deal with the emotions without becoming a casualty and being ruled by them. That's what I'm trying to figure out right now. I don't know where the line is between feeling the emotions and not letting them rule you, but I am certainly trying to discover it.
I want to feed the second wolf, the good wolf. I have been working on feeding that wolf more often. It comes through self-care. The more I care about myself and meet my needs (physical, spiritual, emotional, intellectual), the easier it is to feel joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, etc.--even if it's in tiny doses at a time.
I have felt the good wolf pulling out of the muck lately. I have felt a great increase in those positive emotions. It's not been an easy process, and I'm still hard at work. Sometimes I need to allow myself time to sit in the negative emotions, but I also need to pull myself back up and lean on Christ to feel the positive ones.
I had a moment on Friday where I felt truly, deeply happy. A feeling I haven't felt in a LONG time. Over the last little while, I've felt the tides turning, and I feel more hope than despair. That is a good thing. For the past however long, I've felt more despair than hope. I am excited for the changes coming my way, and I hope and pray that I can continue to turn my life over to God. I do know that it is through Him that I have gained the strength, hope, and peace I am currently feeling in my life.
Which wolf are you feeding?
Monday, December 2, 2013
The Addiction: Is It About You?
This post is for those of you who have struggled with the
concept that “this has nothing to do with you.”
I’ve struggled with that concept a lot since I started my
recovery. Despite how that may sound, my struggle with it is not because I
think the addiction is my fault. I feel very blessed to have only minimally
thought about the addiction in those terms, and those thoughts were very
quickly shut down in the beginning stages of my recovery. However, that phrase bothers
me because I still feel like the addiction has very much to do with me.
People in my recovery groups in Utah, along with my
previous bishop, constantly told me “it has nothing to do with you.” Everything
seemed to be focused around not being codependent and knowing the addiction was
not about me. I was instructed to lean on Christ and let Him heal me. That’s
good, but it made me feel like I’m supposed to find a way for this to not hurt
me because “it has nothing to do with me.” If it has nothing to do with me, I
shouldn’t be hurt by it, right?
I think I’ve been waiting for that day in my recovery
that the addiction doesn’t hurt me, or that I am so quick to turn it over to
God that I don’t feel the pain.
That’s not how it works.
Ben’s addiction has nothing to do with me in the sense
that I’m not the cause. I’m not at
fault for anything he has done. He doesn’t turn to his addiction because I’m
not beautiful or fulfilling enough (and if he did, I would say screw him
because I don’t feel the need to
change myself physically for anyone but me). He doesn’t turn to his addiction
because I’m a failure of a wife. I know I’m not. In fact, I’m an amazing wife,
and I have a lot of patience and love. It is in those types of instances that
the addiction has nothing to do with me.
The addiction doesn’t stem from me, but it still has very
much to do with me. He is my husband. He turns to his addiction rather than God
or me. He breaks promises and does things that hurt me, and I’ve realized it’s
okay and normal that they hurt me.
Just because the addiction “isn’t about me” doesn’t mean I can’t be hurt by it.
This is my life, and it very much involves me. This life I’m living is all about me. I can rely on God and
still be very much hurt by the actions of my husband. It comes with the reality
I’m living. He has made commitments, and I have hope that he will keep them.
When that hope is crushed, it’s only natural to be hurt.
So, if this is a concept you have struggled with, know
you’re not alone. The addiction isn’t about you, meaning it is in no way your
fault. The consequences and pain of the addiction very much involve you, and
that is normal. As you seek your own recovery, you will be healed and blessed
to find the true joy and happiness you deserve even in the midst of addiction
in your life.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Feeling is Necessary to Healing
Against all odds, I have been happy(er) the past couple of days.
The thing that I think has made the most impact on my ability to be happy is allowing myself to feel.
I tend to push my feelings back or aside for many reasons. Sometimes that reason is fear: fear of the pain, or fear of addressing the pain and making Ben more depressed or suicidal. That may sound dramatic, but that is a real concern for me. Two years ago at Christmas, he told me he had been thinking of "making it easier on me" by killing himself (or leaving me. Two great options to make it easier). I'm always afraid that will happen if he gets depressed enough, especially if the root of his depression is the addiction and knowing how much he has hurt me. That was a downer, but I had to get it out. Sorry. Anyhoo...
Sometimes I push my feelings aside due to stress and lack of time: I don't have time to feel or don't want to take the time to feel and get depressed and have it throw off the other things in my life (mainly school--I can't afford for my groove to be thrown off at school). But mostly, I push my feelings back because they are painful, and I don't know how to cope with them very well. And, honestly? I don't want this to be happening to me. I think if I ignore that it's happening, it's not happening. Grrrrrr.
For the past two and a half years, I've allowed myself to feel for a short time, but then I tell myself to buck up and be a man. And I do. I'm the queen of bottling up emotion. I should have a crown. When I think I should be past feeling, I stifle the rest of the emotions that are there and get a move on. Then a few weeks or months down the road, I completely lose it and go crazy. It's a vicious cycle, my friends.
This time, I allowed myself to feel. I cried. I opened up to my bishop. I opened up to Ben. I took my ring off. I talked to my mentor teacher about things. I told some of my students (who expected me to have their tests graded the day after they took them. So not happening. I'm behind on grading) that I've been depressed and having some off weeks. I told the special-ed teacher (who is amazing and like a mom to me at school) that I'm depressed. And I ate a lot of homemade bread this week. I'm allowing the emotions to cycle through me, and I'm also doing things to help myself cope.
I'm taking my time. Because I'm not putting pressure on myself to overcome my feelings (I used to tell myself, okay, after a relapse, I should be willing and able to have sex, kiss, cuddle, etc within "x" amount of time) and am allowing my spirit to recover as it will, I'm actually feeling some joy. Two days after d-day. That is amazing to me!
I wish I could do more for myself, but I can't because I'm a first year teacher with four preps (next semester it will be five...), one of which is a catering class, and a club to run. I really don't have much time for self-care. But this week, I have made it somewhat of a priority (which has resulted in a lack of sleep, but I've been blessed to make it through that). I've written. I've studied scriptures. I've done some ADDO. I'm hoping to be able to paint a little bit sometime today or tomorrow.
It's still hard. I still feel an underlying sense of stress and anxiety. BUT I'm allowing myself to feel it when I need to. And that is making all the difference. I know I have to feel in order to heal, and I'm grateful for the blessings I have received while I have taken time to slow down and just feel.
Feeling is so important. It's scary.
BUT
Be brave.
The thing that I think has made the most impact on my ability to be happy is allowing myself to feel.
I tend to push my feelings back or aside for many reasons. Sometimes that reason is fear: fear of the pain, or fear of addressing the pain and making Ben more depressed or suicidal. That may sound dramatic, but that is a real concern for me. Two years ago at Christmas, he told me he had been thinking of "making it easier on me" by killing himself (or leaving me. Two great options to make it easier). I'm always afraid that will happen if he gets depressed enough, especially if the root of his depression is the addiction and knowing how much he has hurt me. That was a downer, but I had to get it out. Sorry. Anyhoo...
Sometimes I push my feelings aside due to stress and lack of time: I don't have time to feel or don't want to take the time to feel and get depressed and have it throw off the other things in my life (mainly school--I can't afford for my groove to be thrown off at school). But mostly, I push my feelings back because they are painful, and I don't know how to cope with them very well. And, honestly? I don't want this to be happening to me. I think if I ignore that it's happening, it's not happening. Grrrrrr.
For the past two and a half years, I've allowed myself to feel for a short time, but then I tell myself to buck up and be a man. And I do. I'm the queen of bottling up emotion. I should have a crown. When I think I should be past feeling, I stifle the rest of the emotions that are there and get a move on. Then a few weeks or months down the road, I completely lose it and go crazy. It's a vicious cycle, my friends.
This time, I allowed myself to feel. I cried. I opened up to my bishop. I opened up to Ben. I took my ring off. I talked to my mentor teacher about things. I told some of my students (who expected me to have their tests graded the day after they took them. So not happening. I'm behind on grading) that I've been depressed and having some off weeks. I told the special-ed teacher (who is amazing and like a mom to me at school) that I'm depressed. And I ate a lot of homemade bread this week. I'm allowing the emotions to cycle through me, and I'm also doing things to help myself cope.
I'm taking my time. Because I'm not putting pressure on myself to overcome my feelings (I used to tell myself, okay, after a relapse, I should be willing and able to have sex, kiss, cuddle, etc within "x" amount of time) and am allowing my spirit to recover as it will, I'm actually feeling some joy. Two days after d-day. That is amazing to me!
I wish I could do more for myself, but I can't because I'm a first year teacher with four preps (next semester it will be five...), one of which is a catering class, and a club to run. I really don't have much time for self-care. But this week, I have made it somewhat of a priority (which has resulted in a lack of sleep, but I've been blessed to make it through that). I've written. I've studied scriptures. I've done some ADDO. I'm hoping to be able to paint a little bit sometime today or tomorrow.
It's still hard. I still feel an underlying sense of stress and anxiety. BUT I'm allowing myself to feel it when I need to. And that is making all the difference. I know I have to feel in order to heal, and I'm grateful for the blessings I have received while I have taken time to slow down and just feel.
Feeling is so important. It's scary.
BUT
Be brave.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)