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.

The Green Chair

I went to counseling on Monday. When I went in and he asked me what is new or what do we need to talk about, I said, "I honestly don't know. I think I've been feeling pretty good lately. So I just don't know."

But of course, there was stuff under the surface that he helped me find.

We are organizing our apartment and getting rid of things to make room for the baby. Last weekend, we got rid of a chair. It's just a chair, so every time I cried at the thought of getting rid of it, I shamed myself. It's just a chair. Ben didn't verbally shame me for being so upset, but I felt that he thought I was being ridiculous as well (maybe it was in my head, or maybe he let off little cues. I don't even know).

We kind of got in a fight last Friday night. I don't remember how it started (apparently I've blocked it out) other than just an emotional topic I brought up after dinner, which turned into me not being able to talk because I couldn't figure out what I was even trying to say. He fell asleep while I was not talking. I told him I wanted him to stay awake, to which his response was, "Well if you're not talking, then I'm going to fall asleep." That turned into overwhelming feelings of abandonment and after a huge escalation of things and him going into a selfish addict-mode (yes, he will own that), I ended up sobbing in the living room--hurt, upset, and shaming myself for having feelings--on our chair that was to be given away the following day.

As I laid on the chair and thought about giving it up, I cried even harder.

So, rather than focusing on all the crazy I felt I was experiencing with the escalation of my emotions and our fight, I asked myself Why are you so upset about getting rid of this chair? We have only had it for a year. We got it for free. Why are you so upset?

I realized I was struggling with getting rid of it because this chair was my safe space. 

For the past year, things have been really hard. When we moved into the house where we received this chair, I experienced a lot of depressing emotions (that was Oct. 2013) for various reasons. Then, just after Christmas last year, I decided I was done with our marriage as it was and that things needed to change. Talk of separation happened. Then Ben got his new job in Texas, and we ended up being forced to separate because of that. Eventually, I moved to Texas, and things have been up and down here too.

There has been lots of emotion and pain involved in the last year (and of course beauty, but that's not the point of this post).

Through everything, the chair has been my safe space. I've cried countless times in this chair. I've curled up in blankets (a comfort object) and tuned out the world. I've had many self-examinations in this chair. It's also been a good cuddle chair and has symbolism for the good things that have happened in the past year as well.

It's not just a chair. 

As I talked about this with my counselor (we actually started with the fight and then he zeroed in on the chair issue), he asked me what getting rid of my safe place means to me.

I thought for a while and responded with, "Maybe I'm afraid I don't have a safe space anymore."

Well, that turned into my issues with feeling safe. It's true, I'm still having safety issues. I'm still dealing with a lot of icky trauma. I try to pretend I'm not, or maybe I am just trying too hard to rush the healing process because I so desperately want to be okay. I want to feel okay. I want the addiction gone. I want the things I've been dreaming of since I married him.

But through our discussion, I realized I'm doing a lot to contribute to my home not being safe.

Why, you ask?

Because lately I've been trying to control the addiction.

It's so subtle, that I convince myself I'm not controlling the addiction. But I am. It's through things like pressuring myself to have the house clean, dinner made, dishes done, laundry done, etc. by the time Ben gets home from work. I convince myself that it's because that's just how we have divided the labor right now. He works a lot between his writing jobs and his full-time job. He doesn't have time for that kind of stuff. He is so stressed out. He has no time for himself. Whereas there is me who is expecting a baby and has way more time to do the house stuff because I'm not working outside the home. So I get the house stuff as my job, while he gets the bringing in the money as his job.

But secretly, I pressure myself to get all those things done because I'm afraid of what might happen if I don't. Ben will help me. It will stress him out. He will feel overwhelmed and will turn to the things that release his tension. He won't have time to use the good coping skills he is trying to develop because he will be using his time and energy to do his own jobs and then help me do the stuff around the house, which I should be perfectly capable of doing myself, right? Even though I do plenty of other things during the day that take time away from the household chores.

So I pressure myself into doing it all. I try to control what is going on with him by taking on x amount of responsibility myself.

I feel like I'm capable of forgiving Ben for everything that has happened. Often, I think I've already forgiven him. But one thing I absolutely cannot forget is the pain of something he has told me. There have been times when he has been so deep in his addiction that he has thought about taking his life. He has also thought about leaving me.

I don't know if I'll ever forget that, and it haunts me. I get afraid that if I don't live up to certain expectations, he will decide he is done. If he is too stressed with the fact that I can't physically do all the house stuff on my own, or the stress that will come with the baby, or the stress of his job, or the stress of me and dealing with my emotions, maybe he will just leave. Maybe I'm crazy and will push him away.

Preventing that from happening is another aspect of why I have been taking so much on myself.

Now the trick is finding balance. I can identify ways I have been controlling the addiction. I have to let go of that control. Much of it is based on fear. I have to let go of those fears and turn my life over to God. I have to trust in Him with whatever happens.

Obviously, I can't just drop the house stuff to prove I'm not trying to control the addiction. We are a team, and I want to keep doing my share in our relationship. What I need to stop doing is stressing about letting him help me. Some days I can totally get things done. Other days I can't. Some days I need help. And I deserve a husband who is capable of helping me. I can let him help.

As I talked with my counselor, we identified some core beliefs I have. Then we countered them with the truth, things I deserve.

Finding myself is crucial to my healing. I can't let the "things I need to do" around the house take that away from me. I need to spend time on me. I need to spend time doing things I enjoy, or re-discovering things I enjoy (because lately I've been realizing it's hard for me to enjoy anything). I need to spend time reaching out in service to others. I need to spend time developing relationships with people in my life. I need to spend time developing love and other Christlike attributes. I need to discover who I am and what I am capable of as a daughter of God. I need to develop my talents. And pretty soon, I will have a baby in my home. I want to be the best mother I can be.

Those things are important to me.

I will find the balance. I will be more self-aware. I will recognize when I am doing things because I'm trying to control the addiction or prevent certain outcomes.

I will not pressure myself into healing.

I will accept who I am.

I will seek peace through Christ every day.

I cannot control the addiction. I did not cause it. I cannot cure it.

Letting Go of the Outcome

A few weeks ago, I was talking to my friend Alicia on the phone, and we got to talking about a painting I had just done for a friend's birthday. I explained how I used to have a hard time with watercolors because they are so unforgiving if you mess up. If you mess up, you either start over or have to creatively find a way to conceal it and make it look purposeful. Except now, I love watercolors. I love them because they just are. There is no pretending with them. There is no fake. If I mess up, I don't start over. I find a way to work around it and finish with a beautiful product. And sometimes the final product is not what I had envisioned when I started the painting process.

Prior to this part in our conversation, we had been talking about lots of things. Most of it had to do with our marriages, God, and trying to do His will. We talked about following His plan and how impossibly hard it sometimes seems to give Him control. We talked about how utterly scary  it is to give the control over to God because we have no idea what the outcome will be, and we have to have faith and hope that He will give us the strength we need to get through our trials. And we have to have faith and hope that the outcome will be in our favor.

So, as I talked about my art and how watercolors just are and how you sometimes don't have control over them (like if you've used too much water or too much pigment), she said, "Kilee, I would love to see an watercolor representation of what it means to give our will over to God and let go of the outcome."

Yesterday we were snowed out of school. And Ben left to start his new job in Plano. So, after laying in bed for about an hour thinking about how hard the next four months will be, along with surfing Facebook, I decided to give this watercolor representation of letting go of the outcome a go. That's what I'm doing in so many aspects of my life right now. I'm trying to turn myself over to God and let go of this desire to control the outcome of what happens.

I know to some people, these pieces of art may be the kind like, "So not impressive. A kindergartner could do that." But I don't care. These pieces are close to my heart because of the emotional process that went into them. I don't really know how to explain what I had envisioned with this "letting go" idea, but it definitely wasn't what the final result was. I got some fun ideas while painting (like putting big watery globs of color on the paper and just blowing on it and letting it go wherever. That's where those streaky things came from). Anyway, I can't fully explain the process because I'm not 100% sure what happened here, either. All I know is that the act of painting these was wholly therapeutic for me. I just went for it and let it become what it became. Some parts are not that pretty. But some parts are awesome. It's just like life.

Ps, if you are in the Lehi area (I wish I was so I could attend this), there is a WoPA conference happening in a couple of weeks. Check out this flier.