I had no idea. Oh, the irony.

Preface: Read about our dating experience here.

When I think about our dating experiences and my decision to marry Ben, and when I think about where we are now, I often wonder why I married him. Did I actually love him or was I just in a rush to get married and start that fun, exciting phase of life? It's kind of hard to discern. And it's kind of hard to remember that far back when there is so much trauma fogging up the memory. Of course, I made the choice to marry him, but were my answers to prayers a type of cop out from making the actual decision myself? So many questions. So much trauma.

I think those thoughts are just trauma response. I think I know I loved him when I married him. I think I trust myself enough to know I wouldn't have made that decision lightly. But you can see how the pain of Betrayal Trauma runs its course.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I had no idea what I was getting into when I got married. Of course, I knew being married wasn't supposed to be a piece of cake. But we had a traumatic dating experience for a variety of reasons, so I never expected in my wildest dreams that he would be a source of trial in our marriage. I thought we were a team. I thought we had great communication and could work through anything. We've suffered through my back injuries. We've suffered through infertility. We've suffered through grandparents on both sides passing away. We've suffered through a car accident. We've had financial trouble. We've moved to two different states. We've dealt with crazy bosses. We've handled my unexplained physical ailments.

But nothing compares to what he has brought to our marriage. Nothing. 

Being married to a sex-addict is by far the most painful trial I've experienced. Now, put that on top of the other trials, and it's even more heavy. 

And put it on top of our dating relationship. All the questions. All the "I don't want to date you"s. The breaking-up. The "not being friends." The prayers begging God to help me figure this out--to help me figure out what the purpose is and to help me follow His plan. The thoughts I had of backing out. 

I have so many questions now. 

Mainly, is this right? Is this really what you wanted for me, God? Did I make up my spiritual experiences? Did I make up my answers to my prayers? Did you know Ben would do this to me? Did you know when I chose to marry him that we wouldn't even make it through our first year in bliss and harmony? Did you know he would one day talk about leaving me to live in sex sin? Did you know the addiction would come back to haunt our marriage? Did you know I would wonder about the sanctity of our marriage? Did you know I would be afraid I will be alone for all eternity? 

Of course He knew all of that. He is God. 

God sees the end from the beginning. I don't know why I felt so strongly that I should marry Ben. I'd like to think that we do have a divine mission to fulfill, as I felt after many prayers begging God to help me out. I'd also like to think it's because God trusted me with this, with Ben. And that maybe Ben needs me. And maybe God needs me to be a voice. Maybe He knew I could handle it. Maybe He knows we will make it through. Or maybe He knows we won't, but we will both gain eternal progress form this. I don't know. That's just all speculation.

I've spent a lot of time fighting being mad at God.

God is not the one to whom I should direct my anger. God didn't do this to me. It's part of life. It's all a result of agency. Ben's choices. Sometimes our trials are the result of another's actions. That is the case with me right now as I face this trial. I can't control it. It's happening, and I just have to work through it. It's also a result of my agency. I chose Ben. I choose Ben every day. I choose to do my best to follow God, and right now, I truly think God wants me to stay. So I stay. I choose to stay. And it's hard.  

I can trust God. He has truly been with me through all of this mess. While it's been hard and painful, He has not left me comfortless. I can [almost] always see the ways He is helping me.

This trial has definitely brought me to a faith crisis. I struggle in a lot of ways I didn't think possible a few years ago. A few years ago, I thought I was solid. But I know God is real and Christ is my Savior. Those two things are the most important. Those are the things I hold on to for now.

I know this is somehow part of the plan. I know I can learn from this. I know I am being made stronger. I know that God knows the way out. And I know that darkness is a part of life. Without darkness, depression, and despair, we would not be able to truly know the light. 

Ben messed up last week. 

The addiction ran its head through our door. 

Satan is running amok in both our heads. 

Sometimes, I don't feel so lucky.

I look back and wonder. God, what were you thinking all those times I prayed for help loving Ben? Is that what I'm supposed to do now? Will I only love him when I'm praying for love? 

I look back at all those times I felt so lucky. Oh the irony. He was so honest. So pure. So clean. So respectful. So patient. So wonderful. 

What. The. Hell. 

I hate addiction. I double hate sex-addiction. I hate pornography. I hate masturbation. I hate Satan. He needs a junk-punch. [ps. I do know Satan doesn't control us. I know Ben's choices are his choices. But I can still hate Satan. I'd rather direct my hatred at Satan right now.]

I hate that I've been robbed of innocence. I hate that I've been robbed of security and trust. I hate that I wonder if he will leave me to go live in sex sin--to sleep with hookers, go to strip clubs, and do whatever else. 

I hate that with a simple act, all security and trust I've built up can be robbed again. 

I hate the love-hate relationship I have with my husband. 

I hate that I want to scream and cry. All the time. Or most of the time. 

I hate that I want to punch holes in our walls and break every picture frame in our house. And burn all his stuff. 

I hate that my reality sucks sometimes. 

And I hate that other women can relate to me. I hate that they have gone through this too. [But I love you for the support you have given me. Thank you for being able to relate to me and reaching out to love me.]

Hatred is exhausting. But it's part of my life right now. Don't worry, it will pass and I'll move to another part of the process. But for this moment, I will allow myself to be bitter and angry, at least while I write this post. Getting it out and working through it will allow me to move on.

Remember all those times I felt so lucky? Oh the irony.


Read the next post here. 

You know what?

This week I've faced a lot of emotion. I've fought shame, triggers, and trauma. I've had ups and downs. But I feel great.

Yesterday, I talked to my cousin on the phone for a while. She didn't know about the addiction, but I felt like I should tell her. Plus, it's so hard to answer, and feel honest, when people ask how things are going without bringing up the addiction. Or at least saying we are having marital trouble.

As I poured out the effects of the addiction on our marriage and how we have struggled in the past year, especially the past few months, I boldly stated, "I know this sounds awful and it's a lot to take in. But I love my life." It even took me a little by surprise.

But you know what? I love my life.
Sometimes I hate it, but there are so many beautiful things in my life.

God grants me tender mercies every day.
I have amazing friends who I wouldn't have met were it not for the addiction.
I have an amazing husband. Even if we somehow don't make it through this, there is too much good in our marriage to be hateful of the experience we have had together (which leads me to believe we will make it through this... but I'm having trust issues, so it's hard to be vulnerable enough to say that without some kind of disclaimer).
I have a stronger relationship with God then I could ever imagine. How could I hate something that has brought me so much closer to my Father and my Savior?
I have learned that no trial exempts me from other trials. I've also learned that I can master anything if I turn to God.
I have learned what it means to love with my whole heart.
I have learned the true meaning of surrender to God.
I have learned who my true friends are.
I see light [almost] every day, even if just for a brief moment in time. And it is those pockets of light that pull me through the darkness.
I'm starting to really understand the "plan", the Atonement, charity, and joy.
I'm discovering who I truly am. And I love who I am.
I'm learning how to use my talents to facilitate joy--in my life and the lives of others around me.

That's just part of it.
But I truly believe that I can love my life, even if the addiction is a part of it. I hope and pray that we are close to truly kicking the addiction to the curb. I hope and pray that we are on the adventure together--climbing back up and building the greatness that can be our life. Together.

Regardless of what he chooses, I know I can be happy. So I am trying to choose that.

Christ is.

Credit

Today I studied 3 Nephi 11. This is one of my favorite chapters because it is Christ talking to the people in the Americas after He was crucified. I love reading His teachings.

In verse 11, He says, "And behold, I am the light and the life of the world." I've read that verse dozens of times. I've never really focused on the meaning, though, because it usually just seems so simple, so duh.

What does it mean that Christ is the light? What does it mean that He is the life? What does that mean to me, right now, while trapped in depression?

I've been depressed. It comes and goes, and some days are worse than others. My depression isn't all due to the addiction: there are many factors that have led to this. To put it shortly, it stems from trauma, responsibility, and being stretched too thin in too many directions, which all adds up to equal STRESS. It boils down to stress.

This is what light means to me:
     -The absence of darkness
     -The stimulation of sight
     -The ability to make things visible
     -An aid in the understanding of mysteries
     -The way to peace and overcoming fear

Christ is my light. He overpowers darkness (Satan). He helps me find healing in the darkest of despair. When I stay close to Him, he helps me conquer my fears and find peace. He stimulates my sight--meaning He helps me see things as they are and as they have the potential to be. He helps me view my life through the correct lenses with the proper attitude and perspective. He makes things visible: He helps me see my tender mercies and find things to be grateful for at all times. He helps me understand the gospel and gain the desire to keep understanding life.

He helps me live a better life.

Christ is my life. I've learned through experience that Christ is the way. I've tried being angry at Him...and all that did was cause me to slip farther into a dark depression. I've tried doing things my way, but I always find that His way is the best way (even if it seems impossibly hard in the moment).

Christ is the reason I live and breathe. 

He is the reason I find joy and grace. 

With Him in my life, life is full of beauty, harmony, and love.

Memories

Credit

I was flooded with memories this weekend—things I had shoved back over the past few years. These memories are all related to my betrayal trauma, and it actually felt good to remember. It felt good because I was embracing, not shoving away. It was validating, and facing these memories was an important step to helping me heal. I was reminded that the things I am feeling right now are natural consequences of the trauma I have experienced.

I remember feeling crazy—literally insane—during the months after the car accident, which happened three weeks after we were married. I had back and neck injuries. I probably had post-traumatic stress disorder. Because of the physical and emotional injuries I suffered, it was hard for me to be intimate. It was hard for me to open up to him because I felt like he didn’t truly care. Something was off. It seemed like he was frustrated with me constantly, which made me feel all the more crazy. I felt pressured into sex because he needed it. I gave in, despite the pain in my back. We had problems. We had just gotten married, and we had some serious issues. It scared me, and I took all the blame. I thought I was a terrible wife. I thought all of our problems were my fault.

I remember the pain I felt when he told me about his addiction. I felt betrayed because, well, that is the natural consequence of discovering your husband watches disgusting things and looks at disgusting pictures. I felt betrayed because that is the natural consequence a woman would feel upon learning her husband had sexual fantasies about other women. But I also felt betrayed because of all the time I thought I was crazy, when in fact, he was the one with the problem.

I remember the blame I felt when he told me about his addiction. I thought I drove him to it because I couldn’t be intimate after the car accident. I felt like all of my crazy had taken its toll, and he was just done with me. I felt blame because the car accident was, in a way, my fault. If I hadn’t driven down that road at that time, the lady wouldn’t have hit me. She would have run the stop sign and hit no one because I wouldn’t have been there. It wasn’t a road I normally drove down. I went a back way home from where I was coming from that morning. So, naturally, everything was my fault.

I remember him telling me about the “porn problem” and thinking it was an addiction. I remember doing research, but to no avail. I remember finding out about the 12-step meetings and wanting to go, but he told me no. He told me he could conquer it: after all, he had conquered it before. I remember feeling so much trauma that I didn’t know I could disagree. I thought I had to do everything he said to save my marriage.

I remember considering divorce. We had only been married six months.

I remember the lies.

I remember the hurt.

I remember the forgiveness. Then more lies. More hurt.

I remember the times I wanted to trust. I even put myself out there, only to have the trust broken. Again. And again.

I remember feeling alone and not understanding why I couldn’t tell people. I remember being frustrated because my bishop even told me that if my husband didn’t want me to tell, I shouldn’t because it is deeply personal and could cause more problems in our relationship. This is something most people don’t talk about openly, and if my husband didn’t feel comfortable with it, it needed to stay between us. I didn’t want more damage to our relationship, so of course I kept it hidden between us.

I also remember my bishop basically just giving him a pat on the back because “he had confessed” and that was a good start. It didn’t seem right, but he was the bishop, so I went along with it.

I remember feeling like a babysitter, using filters and passwords to keep him clean. I didn’t think that was my responsibility, but, as my bishop pointed out, taking it away was the first step to him being clean. Not that he didn’t find it in other places anyway…

I remember broken promises.

I remember getting rid of movies, but not being able to explain to friends and family why we couldn’t watch certain things.

I remember moving into a new ward. When we told our new bishop about the problem or addiction or whatever we called it at that time, he let me know it was not my fault. He let me know it had nothing to do with me. He let my husband know it was sinful and wrong. He let my husband know he was not fulfilling his duty as my husband or keeping his covenants. It was a very different change in counsel, and it made for a great change in our lives.

I remember when we moved to our current ward, and our bishop told us he had hope for us. We came in to our first meeting with him holding hands, and he said that meant we had something that could make it through the damage that had been done.

So much damage has been done. I’m finally realizing that it is totally, 100%, okay for me to withdraw. It’s okay for me to need my time. It’s okay for me not to trust. It’s okay for me to be impatient and emotional. It’s okay for me to feel betrayed. It’s okay for me to open up. It’s okay for me to cry. It’s okay for me to live in the present.

It’s also okay for me to love and trust. It’s okay to have hope that we will be healed. I have hope that my love will one day be perfect. I have hope that I will trust again.

The journey has been long and painful. But I wouldn’t change this for the world. We are learning and growing, and our marriage will be more precious later on because of this trial, the beautiful heartbreak.

PS, I have good memories too. My favorite is the look I see in his eyes when he really sees me and his heart is full of tender love. Just thinking about that look makes my heart skip a beat. My other favorite is the times he has broken out of his comfort zone to dance with me and be a goober. 

I don't understand, and that is okay

Minus the pride part. Because I'm trying to be humble ;)

 I need a little soul-dumping session. Bear with me.

In the past three years, I've experienced a lot of heartache. Looking back, it's all been a crazy whirlwind. The dating/engagement stuff was a whole other story with heartache. That's not where I'm beginning today.

Just after we got married, there was the car accident, which was traumatic for me (I'm still struggling with the upper back and neck injuries). The real, deep heartache started with my first D-Day, about two and a half years ago. Just a couple months after that, though, as I was still sorting through everything regarding the addiction, I had the prompting that we should start our family.

We had already decided we weren't going to start trying until at least our last semester of college. So, first, I was a little shocked that I felt the prompting to start trying to get pregnant because I (we) still had over a year left of school. That wasn't really that big of a deal though. I wasn't about to let school stop me from following that prompting. Besides, it's not like it's that abnormal at BYU to find young mothers finishing up school. The real reason I was shocked was because I was dealing with the damage of finding out my husband is a sex-addict. And, I mean, you know...when you're trying to get pregnant, you have sex a lot. And it's kind of scheduled. And as the wife of a sex-addict, you don't really like feeling like you have to have sex, which was how I felt while we were trying to get pregnant.

A few weeks after the initial prompting, I talked to Jack about it. He had been feeling it too (we actually figured it out that we received the initial prompting on the exact same day. cool, huh?), so we decided to go for it. While trying, there were days that it was hard, and there were days when I didn't want to have sex, and there were days that I just refused because I emotionally couldn't handle it. But overall, we tried really hard to get pregnant. I had God on my side, and He helped me find peace and healing. I had faith in Him and His plan and following the promptings He had given me.

Ten months later...I was still not pregnant. I know ten months is really not that long in the grand scheme of things, but I felt very infertile and let-down. I had followed the prompting. I tracked my ovulation. I scheduled sex. I was dealing with the emotions that come with the pornography and masturbation. I was having faith. And I was still not getting pregnant!

It was so frustrating!! Then came the time when we had to choose to keep trying or not because if I got pregnant, the baby would be due during my student-teaching. We didn't know what to do, but after fasting and prayer, we decided to stop trying to get pregnant for a few months (just in case. You can't really give birth while you're student-teaching. And we felt like me graduating later was wrong for us...which, as it turns out was absolutely the right decision because we followed the Spirit to where we live now, and this move was right after graduation).

We stopped trying for a few months. I still always wished I could be pregnant, but the emotions weren't as high-strung because there wasn't that disappointment every month when I started my period. Then, we felt the prompting to start again. So we did, until my lower-back went out. After that, it became physically impossible to have sex, much less carry a baby. That has been the hardest part of the trial with my lower-back. I just want to be a mom. I love teaching, and my students are like my children. I love them. But still, I want to be a mom!

So, here is the reason I'm writing all this. That was just the backup story for what I'm really getting at. I wrote on here a few months ago that we were going to start trying again. Then, addiction stuff got in the way, and I felt like we couldn't try anymore because of my emotional instability. Something beautiful happened, though, and God gave me the ability to see things clearly (not that what I am about to say applies to everyone. Because it doesn't. Somehow, I have had the strength to do all this in the midst of addiction hurt. Just a blessing because this is how it's supposed to be for us, but my way isn't for everyone. Just so that is all clear). I have been able to separate my husband and our relationship from the addiction. I've been able to be loving and supportive (and I've been doing the Love Dare), and I've been putting a lot of effort into our relationship. We've been trying to get pregnant. And I've been enjoying it. It's been much less emotionally painful than when we were trying two years ago. We are drawing closer together, and the pregnancy-trying process is much more beautiful than it was before. It's been really good for us.

Earlier this week, my body was telling me all the signs of pregnancy. That's happened a few times before, though (fake-outs), so I was trying not to think about it. I didn't want to even think for a second that I might be pregnant because when I think that, it's so much harder when I start my period. But, on Sunday, I finally told Jack my little secret--that I actually think I am pregnant this time. I told him why. And then I started crying and told him I couldn't handle it if I wasn't. I promptly pushed all thoughts away. Except they didn't go away.

My period was a day late. I started spotting. When it got heavier than spotting, though, I was crushed. I turned it over to God, and I felt so much better. I felt peace along with the pain. The pain was still real, but the peace was so overwhelming that I couldn't even feel any anger at all. No anger for the feelings I had that maybe God was playing with my body and tricking me. None at all. Just peace and the knowledge that He had it under control.

Usually day two of my period is SUPER heavy--and it wasn't this time. It was still just a little more than spotting. Thought: implantation bleeding. I started crying. I told Jack what was going on in my head, and my thoughts started going warp-speed. Long story short(ish): all week long, my body has still been showing me signs of pregnancy. My period was only half as long as normal, and it NEVER got heavy like it usually does. Yesterday, while I was depressed and studying my scriptures, trying to find peace, I had this overwhelming feeling come over me that said, "You're pregnant. You'll see. Don't stress." Which of course, stressed me out. I kept trying not to think about it because I wasn't sure I could believe it.

Talking to Jack last night, as I told him all these things and the feelings I had (it was more than just that simple thought. It was a very spiritual experience for me, and a lot more was going on than just that one thought), I expressed my fear that I would take my pregnancy test in the morning (I had an x-ray for my lower back scheduled this morning, so I had to take the test) and it would be negative. And then I would have experienced those feelings of peace and "it's okay you're pregnant" stuff in vain. As I was talking to him, the scripture, "Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief" came to mind, and I felt peace. So, I prayed and asked God to help me trust Him: I so wanted to trust Him, but I was scared. I fell asleep. I slept fitfully.

This morning I took my pregnancy test, and it was negative.. And then, I felt peace wash over me as I thought, "I knew that would happen." I felt peace, but I was a little angry (anger is my mask for really sad) and could have used a hug. I basically pushed myself away from my husband, who probably wanted to help me, but I didn't invite him (and I wish he wouldn't always wait to be invited because sometimes us women don't want to tell our husbands hey hug me right now. We want them to just know!).

So, what is going on? I don't know. But I have some thoughts.

As I drove home from my chiropractor (after my x-ray. getting that x-ray is one blessing of not being pregnant. I can physically see how my back is doing on Monday, and maybe I will be released to return to normal activity! There is always hope for something!), I reflected on all of this. All of the heartache I have experienced:

Jack's addiction: emotional damage
Infertility: it's been over two years since we first started trying. That's two years of really wanting kids and all of that stuff that you really only know about if you have experienced it. Emotional pain.
              Grand total:15-16 months infertile; 10 months incapable
 Addiction + Infertility = PAIN

First of all, I feel like my trust and faith have been challenged, and I've lived up to the test. Check-mark for me! Yesterday, as I studied my scriptures, I asked myself the question (that I often ask when I am depressed), why do we have to submit to God? Why do I have to be humble? (Sometimes I get a little too close to the bitter line.) In reality, we don't have to, we aren't forced, and I know that when I do submit to God and am humble, I experience joy beyond imagination. It's only through God that I experience true happiness. I felt peace in my submission to God.

I don't know why I would have those experiences telling me I am pregnant and then not be. But I'm not mad. Maybe it was to show me my true colors. Maybe it was to show me my strength. Maybe it was to challenge me to turn to God in faith. Maybe it was to help me find the only way to peace and healing.

I kind of want to be mad. But I'm not. I feel a little numb, and I definitely feel sad and heartbroken, but I have peace. I have faith.

I had this thought earlier this week about infertility: maybe I need to prepare myself spiritually, and maybe there are things I need to experience before I have children. And no matter what, I'm receiving fantastic growth because of this trial, especially since it overlaps the addiction trial.

I had this thought yesterday about infertility: maybe part of the reason women experience this is because they are ready, but their children aren't. When I have fake-out months, maybe I have a spirit-child who is going to come to earth, but then "chickens out" (for lack a better term). Maybe my children are sensitive spirits, and they see this scary, immoral world they are coming into, and they get scared. My infertility is preparing me (if I choose to learn and grow from it) to be a better mother, which would be even better for sensitive spirits.

I had this thought this morning about my infertility: Maybe the timing on all this (how the promptings to try to get pregnant coincide with hard times in the addiction) is to give us both hope for our eternal family. For me, it helps me see the bigger picture, thus treating Jack better and trying harder to be happy in our marriage. And maybe it gives him motivation for addiction-recovery so he can be a worthy patriarch and priesthood holder in our family. Maybe when we are actively trying to get pregnant, it helps him see beyond the addiction and what joys lie in store in the eternities.

I don't know. Those are just thoughts. All I know is this: I'm not pregnant, and that is okay. Along those lines, my husband has an addiction, and that is also okay. My life is hard, and that is normal. It's okay! It's all okay! I have a Savior who has felt every single pain I feel. He has felt all of this already. He knows how I feel. He knows how to comfort me. I have a Father who loves me. He doesn't want me to be unhappy. He doesn't want me to turn away from Him. I also know this: if I choose anger in my trials, I will ruin my happiness. If I choose to turn away from God because of my trials, I will lose out on so much beauty in this life and in my life to come.

I really don't know what just happened to me this week with the whole pregnancy fake-out. Part of me thinks I imagined it, that it was all in my head and I'm crazy. But, I can't deny what I have felt. I'm not crazy, and I didn't imagine anything. I don't understand it, but maybe some day I will. Right now, I feel okay just trusting and having peace.

Of kayaking trips and life lessons

I have a story. To make it sound less awkward, I decided today is the day to pick names for my husband and me on this blog. That way, I can call him by name instead of continuing to say "my husband" this and "my husband that."

He'll be Jack (his choice) and I'll be Marie.

Isn't this beautiful? We hiked here a few days ago.

 We went kayaking today. We even invited my mom.

When we reached our destination (a spot on the lake that extends somewhere between 100-200 yards wide), I flopped out of my kayak (yes, I flopped. It was not at all graceful) to swim some laps.

I heard from our bishop's wife that swimming laps in the lake is so much better than in the fitness center.

The fitness center where we usually go to swim is a 20 minute drive away. It takes a long time for us to drive there, change, swim, shower and change, do my stretches, then drive home. We go 2-3 times a week, though, because I love swimming and it is the only form of exercise I am allowed to do right now.

I wanted to swim today. Jack wanted to kayak. Rather than taking two hours to swim at the fitness center and then take a small kayaking trip, we decided to try out the bishop wife's vision of swimming in the lake. I was excited! I've wanted to try swimming in the lake, but I just hadn't gotten around to it yet. This was the perfect opportunity.

Little did I know this was the perfect opportunity to test my weaknesses.

First of all, it's not like I don't have stuff to do. I have a lot of school business I am working on for next year along with my callings and assignment in the church. I had a plan for today. It was to get up (I got up WAY later than anticipated), study my scriptures, go kayaking/swimming, work on all that stuff I need to do, do the facilitator training modules (I'm a facilitator now, yay!), and prepare for and attend group.

When my day doesn't go according to plan, I tend to freak out a little bit (that is one of my weaknesses). Stress, anxiety, and fear start creeping in, and I get mean. I don't deal with changes to my plan very well. It's something I have been working on.

By the time we got to the lake, it was almost noon. I realized that my day was probably going to be shot, and I faced a choice: I could get irritated at everyone who made my day slower than it was supposed to be, or I could just get over it and enjoy our kayaking trip.

I chose to try to forget about the anger starting to creep in (SUCCESS!) and just enjoy the day (and not make any kind of scene in front of my mom, who also happened to be half the reason my day was getting so far off-plan). I told myself to just breathe and not freak out. In reality, I don't even have anything that has to be done by tomorrow. Everything will be fine if it doesn't get done today. I can relax and enjoy my summer days.

I got in my kayak first and let Jack and my mom push me out. The nose of the kayak went under and I started freaking out because I thought I was going to sink (fear and freaking out: weakness #2). As if I wasn't right by the shore...

My back tensed up (as it always done when I panic), and I told Jack I was scared that my back would hurt too much and maybe I shouldn't actually go out today. He told me to decide, and I remembered that I am being fearless now.

I started paddling.

When we reached our destination, I put on my goggles, kicked off my flip-flops, and flopped out of my kayak. I tied our kayaks together, and looked across the lake. Fear settled in the pit of my stomach. "I can't do this," I thought. "I am going to die." Have you ever had that feeling where you are so determined to do something cool, and then you realize that it's way more freaky than you thought? That's how I envision myself if I ever go sky-diving. It sounds really fun, but I bet right before jumping out of the plane, I would cry. I don't know if swimming laps in a lake sounds cool to you, but it did to me. The idea of it made me feel like I'm awesome, and I didn't even think about the fact that

1. Unlike a pool, I would have nowhere to stop and rest when I get tired. Even though I swim for half an hour at the pool, I take a couple of small breaks.

2. If I got tired in the middle of the lake, I could drown.

3. You can't see anything in a lake. I could barely see beyond my wrist.

And other thoughts ran through my mind, but I can't remember it all. Those were split-second thoughts. Really, in that moment, it felt like I was heading out into the ocean to swim for my life. Or that I had been shipwrecked and had to swim to shore.

I half-shrieked, "Jack, I'm scared!" I thought I was going to cry.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Why are you scared?" I felt this undertone of "it's not like you can't swim for half an hour. You can swim across that."

I didn't really know why I was scared, but I was terrified. It was this huge wave of panic that I didn't really know what to do with (yet another weakness happening right here).

"Um, I think I'll drown."

"With me paddling right alongside you?"

"Um, I might get hit by a boat."

"Marie." He gave me his stop-being-afraid-of-stupid-things look. He was paddling alongside me for that specific purpose. So I wouldn't get hit by a boat. We planned that.

"I don't know."

My excuses were gone. And lame. And I'm supposed to be fearless. I started swimming.

Halfway across, I stopped to tread water and, in my panicky voice, yelled, "Come here come here come here COME HERE! I NEED TO HOLD ON TO YOUR KAYAK!!" He thought I was going to capsize him. I was more careful than that. I just needed to overcome my panic again and hold on to something for dear life.

I managed a full lap, stopping every so often to freak out. Then, I climbed (flopped) back into my kayak and laid in the sun, thinking.

It really wasn't so bad. Actually, I wanted to do it again. We paddled around some more so I could rest (climbing back up was HARD). He found a rope-swing to play on while I got to watch and laugh at him for a change. Then, I was ready for round two of swimming.

This time I got in the water with ease and started swimming without hesitation. I knew I wouldn't drown. I knew I could make it all the way across. I knew if anything happened, Jack was right there by my side.

I swam much quicker this time, and I didn't stop for any breaks. I just took breaths and strokes. I felt myself pull into my usual swimming rhythm.

During this round of swimming, I had time to think and take note of what was going on.

Before I got into the lake, I knew I wanted to swim across it. I even thought I would swim for half an hour, just like normal. Once I got into the water, everything changed. Fear sunk in. As I swam my first lap, I felt darkness around me. I had horrible thoughts entering my head, and I was seriously afraid for my life (it's dumb, I know. Haha, don't judge). I didn't think I would make it. I almost didn't want to make it. Part of me just wanted to get back in the kayak and pretend it hadn't even happened.

While I swam, I couldn't see anything. I couldn't even see my hand. I could see as far as my wrist. There could have been anything there, and I wouldn't have been able to see (really, there were only fish... I think. But I kept envisioning myself getting attacked by sharks or snakes or something horrible). In my head, there could have been anything there, and I wouldn't have known until it attacked.

It was a hard swim. It was harder than swimming in the pool. But it was so much more worth it in the end, and it was more fun. If anything bad had happened, my husband was right there to save me. He could reach out to me if I needed it, or I could reach out to him if I knew I needed it.

After making it the first time, I knew I could do the second lap.


I realized that terrifying little swim was like life. 

Before I came to this earth, I knew I wanted to come. I may or may not have understood how hard it would be (I don't know). But I knew I wanted to come here. I knew it would be a great experience and would help me achieve my goal of proving myself worthy to live with Heavenly Father. During life, however, we are tempted by Satan. There are times when we are surrounded by darkness and can't see farther than "our wrist." There are times when we have to know and rely on our Savior, who is always watching over us. And there are times when we need to be humble and ask Him for help ourselves. We experience pain. We experience darkness. We experience numerous trials, and with each one we learn. With each one we realize we do have the strength (through Christ) and the tools, and we become better prepared for the next trial. We can keep pushing on, and we can become better and better through each trial.



I'm grateful that I had the strength to push past my fears and do what I knew I wanted  to do. Actually, I needed to do this. I needed to experience those fear so I could face them.

I'm also grateful that I could pinpoint my weaknesses as they occurred today. It was a good little test, and I'm grateful I could try to find appropriate ways to deal with my stressors.

I see great progress here. Yes, I saw weakness, and yes, I was very full of fear at some points. But I didn't let it stop me. I pushed on, and even gained a life-lesson takeaway while I was at it.

SUCCESS.