"Advice to My Younger Self"

In December, I had the opportunity to participate in a video project put on by the LDS Church. I flew to Salt Lake City, and with other amazing, strong women, I was recorded reading a letter with "Advice to My Younger Self"--what I wish I knew when I first found out about the addiction, my perspective now.

Being there with these amazing women was incredible. I felt so blessed in numerous ways to have this opportunity. The Spirit was strong, and I knew I was a part of something special.

The videos are posted on the Church's addiction recovery website.

Here is the link to my letter in print.

Here is the link to my video.

Here is the compiled video (snippets from everyone's videos). It's simply beautiful.

I'd encourage you to check out all the videos. Each person has unique perspective because of their own situations. There are even videos for parents of addicts.

This project was to provide another resource for people just finding out about the addiction. It's helped strengthen me, and I've been on this road for four years. I KNOW it will be a strength to those new to this. Please share

Danger: Entering Trauma City

Yesterday was really triggery for me.

My health insurance has this program called Begin Right (or something like that...). It's a maternity program. If I do this program, we get money. Who doesn't want money, right?

I had to take this survey at the beginning of my pregnancy. And then I had to talk to... I don't know what to call her. My health insurance maternity agent? She is a representative from the program just for me.

When I took the survey, Ben sat there with me (because I really didn't want to do it) and helped me answer the questions (because I like to minimize what I'm going through). There were questions about my mood and depression symptoms. Which, of course, I had to answer honestly. Actually, Ben honestly answered them for me...

Anyway, those questions became a topic of discussion with my maternity representative. She asked if my mood had gotten better, if I had stopped feeling "low." I told her my moody feelings had more to do with outside circumstances in my life than my pregnancy. I'm sure hormones have something to do with it. And I know feeling sick and barfing a ton hasn't helped ease the depression. But, the truth is, my depression does go much deeper than my pregnancy.

So, of course, she asked what we were dealing and if I would talk to her about what was going on in my life. I tried to keep my answers polite and simple, but she KEPT DIGGING. And my breaking point was when she asked me if I ever had "tearful episodes." When I said yes, I do, but I'm not that worried about it, she expressed her concern with my "tearful episodes", and to me, it sounded like she was saying that normal people don't cry. Like, ever.

After more probing questions, I finally told her bluntly that I didn't feel comfortable talking to her about issues that are very personal to me and I would appreciate it if we could move on to something more relevant to my pregnancy, not my personal issues that cause me to have "tearful episodes."

It kind of went downhill from there. I got off the phone near tears and reached out to some friends to tell them about this conversation and how I felt that a person who has NO IDEA who I am or what I am going through was minimizing my pain.

God has blessed me with good friends. Friends who kindly reminded me (and humorously. I have to quote this because it seriously turned my day around) that I "have been crazy sick and...dealing with trauma. Not having an emotional response would indicate you probably also torture animals."

I've been really tender and touchy since the conversation I had with this woman. I've had some other triggery experiences in the past 24 hours. Sometimes they pull me down, and sometimes I can be strong enough to pull myself back up.

I feel like I'm starting to go into Trauma City, and I just want to lay on my couch and watch Veronica Mars all night. With a half gallon of ice cream for company. Ben can come too, I guess. 

But on another note, I really did do something super strong and brave yesterday. Except I'm not going to write about it because the experience I had could be triggery to some, minimized by some, or I could look foolish to some. So I'm keeping that in my heart, but I know I'm a warrior. And I will make it through Trauma City. Hopefully I don't have to take too many detours.

I Am Broken

I recently made some big decisions that are potentially life-altering.

What it comes down to is this: after much thought, consideration, weighing, and prayer/personal revelation, I have decided to quit my job and move to Texas. I will move sometime in the next 10-14 days.

Whaaaaaat?

Yeah.

If you're new to this corner of the world, I'm a teacher. I teach high-school in a very small town. Not only does this decision have a huge impact on me and my life, it is going to have a major impact on my students, the kids I hold dear to my heart. They are my babies. I love them with a love you can only know as a teacher. I ache for the ones I know won't adjust well. I ache for the sub who's life may feel miserable for a bit until my students trust her more and miss me less.

I've received a lot of negativity about leaving. I've been told I'm being irresponsible and inconsiderate to break my contract. I've been told that I'm not trying hard enough to make it work, and that if I tried hard enough, I could last until the end of the school year. I've been told that I'm letting my students down. I've been begged by students to stay here. I've been told that "husbands are overrated anyway", in joking of course, but the message still stuck.

I've also received a lot of positive feedback about my decision. For most people, I've just explained it simply: "Well, my husband started a new job six weeks ago, and we are experiencing some family crises right now and after much thought and prayer, I feel like I need to be with him to help take care of my family." It's a simple answer that most people respect and/or admire. Even my students respect it. Some students have seen through that story, though, and have realized that it's not just "family issues" or "family crises." I've confided to a few people (the students who have seen through me, along with some faculty members) that it's not just "family stuff"--it is, in fact, marital stuff. My marriage is at risk. Only two people at school know the real issue comes down to porn stuff.

So, I'm moving to Texas, right now, in the middle of the school year, for what feels like a true effort to save my marriage (that "save my marriage" part stems from recent developments/disclosures/trauma since he moved to Texas).  

My marriage is at risk. I hate saying that. But I'm trying to embrace it, I guess.

My marriage is at risk. My marriage is at risk. My marriage is at risk. [Betrayal trauma is real.]

I know I am not in control of what happens here. I know there are so many factors that are completely not up to me. I know I can only do so much, and I know I can't control his addiction. But, I do feel that I need to go to Texas. I have received spiritual confirmation, and no amount of people criticizing this decision or thinking of the alternative will make me change my mind. Sure, it adds stress, but I know this is the right move on my part.

I'm making a lot of sacrifices to do this.

I also have a lot of fear. There are so many what-ifs. [Betrayal trauma is real.]

I'm a little angry that I feel like my marriage is in such a desperate state. It's not fair. This was not supposed to be my life. And, heck, I've only been married for three and a half years. I'm too young to feel so much pain and heartache.

I keep learning new things about my husband's addiction.

I also keep having panic attacks. Like with chest pains and breathing difficulty. [Betrayal trauma is real!]

Sometimes I don't know if I can go on. But I do (and I realize that I have literally been carried by God for more days than I can count. He has certainly not left me alone).


I took some time tonight to list in my journal questions that haunt my mind:

Do I believe in love?
What is love?
Is love even attainable?
Will I be able to trust Ben again?
Is my marriage capable of being saved?
Will we ever have what I thought we had, or will we ever have something even close to that, or even better?
Can we make it joyfully?
Will I love him?
Will I desire him--and receive a good version of him in return?

As I pondered these questions, all I could think of was, "All can be made right through the Atonement." There is hope. If there was no hope, there would be no Atonement. I know Christ performed the Atonement. Therefore, I have hope.

Just because I have hope doesn't mean I'm not broken right now.

I am broken.

But I can be made whole.
So can Ben.


ps, I have a recent obsession with Christina Perri. I've always liked her, but her recent songs just speak to me so much right now.

So, in case you're interested:

"I've had enough. I'm standing up. I need, I need a change...I'm setting fire to the life that I know. We start a fire everywhere that we go. We starting fires, we starting fires, till our lives are burning gold."

The next video resonates with me because it's kind of desperate. And I feel like I can relate to the pain and desire to just want to love. 

This one is dedicated to the lonely ache that takes the place where love and trust was:

I could list way more. But maybe I'll save them for my next post. Ha.

An Almost-Separation

I've been on [avoiding?] step 11 for a while.

I got to step 10. Practiced it. Wrote about it. Looked at step 11, and just could not go on. Part of me felt like I wasn't quite ready for it, and I wasn't sure why.

Well, now I know why. I was being prepared. I stayed in this funk of "daily accountability" while pondering and meditating on the idea of "personal revelation" and fully giving up my will [can you say scary?]. I've read through step 11 a few times this round, but I haven't been ready or able, or something, to write about it on here. I just couldn't. I felt something stopping me. It just didn't feel right yet.

So I've let it sit on the back burner while I studied the life of Christ in the scriptures and have been writing in my personal journal about the qualities in Him I want to emulate and become better with practicing in my life. I've studied humility and pride a little bit too. I've just been waiting for whenever my body, emotions, and spirit feel ready to hit up step 11.

And here I am. I've gone through a whirlwind of trauma, and personal revelation has carried me through.

***

This is the gist of my week: Ben's parents are in town. Ahem. We almost separated while they were here [wouldn't that have been fun?]. We didn't separate and are now working on some things in our marriage [and yes, they don't know about any of this. Crazy, huh?].

I keep writing and erasing the story of the almost-separation. But I decided if you have questions or would like some insight on the personal revelation that went into this whole thing, you can email me. It's too much, emotionally, to rehash it and try to get the wording right so you understand what I'm trying to say. Plus, it would make this post way too long, and you might get bored before I really got to the point.

This is what I'm trying to say: the ability to receive personal revelation is one of the greatest gifts God has given us. Were it not for my ability to follow the Spirit, we would be right where we were last week. I would be trying to fight the addiction and trying to figure out what we could do to actually make changes for good in our lives. I would be dealing with crap and accepting his behavior because I didn't know what else to do. I would be feeling frustrated and irritable while playing nice and acting happy when people ask me how it's goin'.

Instead, I had the courage to listen to a prompting. I addressed all the reasons why we needed a separation. I told him the things I would not be standing for in our marriage. He almost had to pack up and move back to Utah for an indefinite amount of time while he put some things in his life back in order. We were so close to a separation, you guys. So many things could have happened. It was unbearably scary.

As we (really, I, because I had the final say in the matter) tried to figure out what to do, I felt like we both needed to pray. He needed to find for himself whether or not quitting his job and moving to Utah, facing the shame of the situation to a great number of people, would be the best thing for him in regards to real recovery.

Personally, I felt like that could be a good option. It was horribly terrifying, but it had the potential to work out. He could take the time he needed to improve his relationship with God, overcome some pride, sort out some priorities, and get reset in the right direction. Or it could not work out and then I would know his heart was not truly set on recovery, which gave this plan the potential to completely destroy our marriage.

When we realized this plan would be the only option for separation (he couldn't live here if we separated. Literally the only place for him to go would be back to Utah), I instructed him to pray while I went into a separate area to also pray.

The whole day was a series of following personal revelation and relying on God. In the end, the revelation changed, but I think that was because Ben had a soft heart and some other things came into play that were game-changing. After I made the final, final decision to separate (after the late-night prayer), I also had the feeling that I needed to really listen to whatever he had to say after his prayer.

His answer to his prayer was overwhelming. He had committed to some things and great personal sacrifices that completely touched my heart. As he cried and poured out his heart, agreeing that he hadn't been trying very hard to overcome the addiction and that he had not been spending the proper time or doing the things necessary for a change of heart, he made commitments that I've longed to hear. And he did it all on his own (well, through the help of personal revelation and a softened heart). It wasn't through me pushing or nagging him to make these changes: that has never worked. It was simply through me following my prompting that we needed a separation. I was so serious, and he knew it. The very idea pushed him to evaluate what he wanted in this life and in our marriage. He could have chosen to be done with me (and don't think for a second that the idea has never crossed his mind. He has entertained the thought of leaving me to live the life of his sex-addict brain more than once). Or he could have chosen to agree with the separation and then felt too weak and depressed to make any changes, and then chose to live in addiction sin. But he didn't. He chose to follow his own promptings of the Spirit, and in that moment, I followed the prompting of the Spirit to hear him out.

As he talked, I felt complete peace and a final stamp of this is right. Let him try to keep these commitments. As he talked, I saw the picture of Christ on His knees in the Garden of Gethsemane. I had the distinct question come to mind: what would Christ do with a man begging forgiveness, promising change, and asking for another chance before cutting him out of his life, even if only temporarily? The answer was strong: Christ would give him another chance. God wanted me to give him another chance.

In the past 24 hours, I've seen a changed man. I'm still a little uncomfortable around him, and I'm still feeling awkwardness due to the trauma of everything, but I'm seeing change. And I know, because I can feel it in my heart, that it's honest change. I'm trying not to doubt what I feel in my heart, and I'm trying to trust. Satan keeps filing me with fear, that little bugger.

I have hope. Ben has made commitments, and I've made boundaries. We have a long way to go for our marriage to become what we've dreamed of, but I can see the potential of that a little clearer. I have a stronger hope.

Today I studied the section on personal revelation in my 12-step book (step 11). My spirit finally feels ready for this. The experience I had this week taught me that I can follow God and do His will. I can give up my will and do hard and scary things. I know that I have the ability to discern the Spirit. And I've learning that revelation can change when new circumstances arise. If Ben hadn't used his agency to turn to God and allow his heart to be softened, we would be separated or planning for separation.

I have a renewed longing to follow God. I know that His way is the best way. He may ask me to do hard things, and those things may seem impossible. That's because they are impossible--without the Atonement. But I can do all things when I rely on the Atonement, and I know that right now, there is hope for our marriage. When things get tough, I can rely on my Savior, and He will help get me through.

I've made a new commitment to stay close to the Spirit so I can always have the ability to receive guidance.

Things are going to be okay.

Cheers to another year together! I love him.

Sometimes I'm like Lot's Wife

There are definitely a lot of differences between me and Lot's wife. However, I watched this video today, and there were quite a few parallels that made me think.

Lately, while muddling through the storm of addiction, I can't help but look back. I look back on personal revelation given about marrying Ben and I remind myself that we are supposed to be together. I look back on what we once had, or what I thought we had until lies penetrated our marriage. I long for things as they were or as they should be in my imaginary, fairy tale life. I look back and see the progress we have made. I look back and see how little has been accomplished in the grand scheme of things.

I look back and long for change.

I yearn to go back to what once was (or should have been?).

Isn't that what Lot's wife did?

As I yearn for what once was, I am in a sort of denial about things as they are.

I have to stop looking back. I know it's only normal in my case because of the betrayal trauma, but looking back won't make changes for the future. All looking back does is make me depressed and irritable. I have to look forward to the future. I have to address what is going on now and do what I can to make changes for a better future. I have to hope for what can be and do hard things now. I'm realizing now that things have to get harder before they can even remotely get better.

Things are way different than I ever imagined they could be. There are changes I'm considering making in my life that I thought I would never consider. But it's my life. It's all a result of what is going on now, and I can't change the now. I can't change anything to be like what it was no matter how hard I try or desire to.

All I can do now is follow the Spirit and keep Christ close to my heart. As I do so, I will be led to the Lord's will. I must follow His will and not look back. If I make some of the changes I'm considering (if they indeed prove to be the Lord's will), things will get incredibly hard. If I make those changes, do I have the faith to follow the Lord and not look back yearning for a time when things were seemed easier?

I know that this trial being a part of my life is not my fault. I'm just here, and I have to make the most of it. I have choice: I can accept this as the plan and use the circumstances to better myself and draw closer to Christ, or I can keep trying to live in the past while what is really happening creates a falling apart of life all around me while I live in la la land wishing for something different.

My mind keeps going to lyrics of one of my recovery songs, "Better Promises" by Hilary Weeks (from her album, Say Love):

I thought maybe you had forgotten me,

And I wondered if you listened when I prayed.

Seemed like everything I was asking for

Stayed hidden behind heaven's doors,

And I was losing faith.

I can see now as I look back,

Now that the tears have passed.

You gave me bread,

But I thought it was a stone,

And before you could tell me yes,

You had to tell me no.

If you had given me what I wanted,

I would not have seen

That you had better promises for me.

It took some time to convince me

To trust your plan and see things your way.

It was hard to trade what I wanted most

For promises that were still unknown,

And my heart was about to break.

Sometimes it's hard to recognize

The blessings that come in disguise.

You gave me bread,

But I thought it was a stone,

And before you could tell me yes,

You had to tell me no.

If you had given me what I wanted,

I would not have seen

That you had better promises for me.

And I can see now as I look back,

Now that the tears have passed.

You gave me bread,

But I thought it was a stone,

And before you could tell me yes,

You had to tell me no.

If you had given me what I wanted,

If you had sheltered me from the pain,

If you had let me settle for something less,

I would not have seen

That you had better promises for me.

**For more reference on Lot's wife, this speech is a really good one. Pray, read it, and let the revelation come to you for what you might be looking back on. I hope we can all be courageous to stand strong and look forward with a hope in what God has in store for us.

"The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead, we remember that faith is always pointed toward the future. Faith always has to do with blessings and truths and events that will yet be efficacious in our lives. So a more theological way to talk about Lot’s wife is to say that she did not have faith. She doubted the Lord’s ability to give her something better than she already had. Apparently she thought—fatally, as it turned out—that nothing that lay ahead could possibly be as good as those moments she was leaving behind." --Jeffrey R. Holland, "Remember Lot's Wife"

Burning Lingerie

There are a few stories I could tell here.

One is about the trigger of lingerie.
One is about how I destroyed that trigger.
And one is how I opened up and allowed myself to be vulnerable in a situation that normally scares me.

All of these stories have something in common: I'm facing my fears, people! I can do hard things!

I'm not really sure where this post will take me. I might split these stories up into a couple of posts. We will see what happens as I write.

Oh, ps, it's possible that this post might be triggery. After all, I'm writing about a trigger (but then I destroy the trigger in the end--if that helps you make it through :P).

*****

I remember the last time I wore lingerie. I went a long time without wearing it because of the trauma associated with the addiction in my marriage. I finally felt like I could handle it. I could handle wearing it. I wanted to feel sexy. I wanted that power and, dare I say, peace of feeling good in my marriage. I don't really know what I was thinking--meaning I don't know why I would think that wearing something calling for lust would be a good idea in my situation--because looking back I see that I was pretty much just setting myself up to be a lust object. Or, in the very least, to feel like an object.

After all the work I had done fighting the trauma and the addiction, I thought I could do it. I put it on and happened to look at myself in the mirror. I looked good (no, I don't ever use sexy to describe myself). I looked so good, in fact, that I had a panic attack about it. It stemmed from a lot of things, but the main thing I remember thinking was, "I could be in a porn video. I'm dressed for the part." [Although, to be fair, I'm sure my sexy-look is much more conservative than any porn video. But, I don't know. I've never watched one.] I kept the anxiety and panic to myself at first. I felt like I wasn't allowed to ruin sex when I had basically already told him that it was going to happen. So, I sucked up the panicky feelings and tried to go with the flow.

But I couldn't. And honestly, I don't remember what happened. That is how much it jostled my brain. Either I gathered my strength, stopped what was going on, and broke down sobbing, or I went with it and then broke down sobbing afterwords. Whatever happened, all I remember is the crying. The trauma.

I. could. not. do. it.

Ben, bless his heart, was very patient with me. I mean, he was to my face. I don't know how patient he was in his thoughts. Regardless, he seemed patient with me. I'm pretty sure we went a long time after that without sex again because that last time wearing lingerie was so traumatic for me. All I could think about when I thought about sex was lust, porn, and cheating. I constantly wondered if he was acting in love or lust. I constantly wondered if my body was a trigger for him of the other naked bodies he had seen. I wondered who he was seeing and who he was loving: me or some woman in his head?

Eventually, we packed up our belongings and moved across the country to good ol' Arkansas.

We lived with my parents for ten months, and all the while, my lingerie was packed away.

When we moved into our house, and I unpacked my lingerie, it all hit me again. Each piece had some kind of memory attached to it. There was the one from our wedding night--so full of innocence and naivety. And lies. There were the ones he liked and convinced me to wear the most. Because I was sexy in them. Barf. There were some that were just fun and reflected my personality. But sex was a lie to me. And there was one that I always wore when I dressed for myself instead of him.

The memories flooded at me as I  unpacked. And by memories, I'm talking about bad ones. Even the good memories had a sour twist to them because behind every good memory were lies and secrets.

I cried as I unpacked my lingerie. I felt like I could never wear them again.

And then I decided to burn them.

My idea of sex and intimacy in marriage has changed a lot throughout my marriage because of this addiction. It's not a bad thing. I think I'm becoming a better person. I'm learning more about the true meaning of love and how true intimacy works, and to me it's just beautiful. I don't need lingerie to make me feel rotten and dirty. When physically intimate moments happen, they just happen. They are becoming more perfect--in tune with God and the true reason why our bodies are built the way they are. I'm becoming one with my husband through intimacy, and I love how it is helping our relationship.

I don't need lingerie.

My decision to burn my lingerie was a solid two-three months ago. But then things kept coming up that caused me to push this event off. Eventually, I became scared of doing it and started rationalizing myself out of it.

Today, I thought long and hard about my lingerie. I asked myself what the purpose is in keeping it. I asked myself what would happen if it was destroyed. And then I felt fear and anxiety begin to overtake me, and I realized that I had to burn it. I'm not saying that everyone should take this approach to healing: I'm just saying I needed to.

You see, I've been fighting body image issues along with everything else. I don't write about it, and I rarely allow myself to even think about it because I hate it. I know I'm just fine the way I am. I actually really like my body, and I try to remind myself of that every day. But because of many factors that play into the anxiety and problems I'm experiencing in my life, I constantly have this underlying notion that I am not good enough. And I usually play that out through my body image.

Today, I hit a moment where I knew that something I needed to do physically to help myself heal in many areas was to burn my lingerie. So I did. The rotten stuff was so full of poison for me in so many different ways, and physically destroying that poison was one of the most healing things I have done (right alongside burning the addiction).

I started with Ben's favorites--the ones that make me look sexy. Blech. Need I say I hate that word? Then I just kept putting the other pieces on one by one. I ended up keeping one set of lingerie: the one that I wore for me. I kept it as a symbol of hope.

I know I'm not instantly healed just because I burned my lingerie. But I do feel like a piece of me is back where it belongs. I feel more peace, and I feel a little more hope. Or at least I feel like I can keep pressing onward a little bit longer.

Born

You know how much I love music. I have a special playlist called "Soul Food" that is full of my recovery songs. This one has been playing over and over in my head this week. It's relatively new, so I couldn't find a good version on youtube. The lyrics are inspiring and oh, so helpful.

Born by Katherine Nelson

(click on her name to read how she came to write this song!)

I was raised to be BRAVE 
To stand up & stand out 
To wear my name like I know 
The people I came from & who I am now. 

There’s a banner held to the sky 
Down through the ages it’s been held high 
And I’ve found fearless blood in my veins 
That makes me the lightning every time it rains 

I was born to stand tall 
I was born to face the wind 
I was born to feel heartache and heal again 
Born to open up my heart 
Raise my hands and sing 
I was born to fill the measure of my wings 
To be a light in the storm 
I was Born 

I want to live until I die 
Leave a fire in my children’s eyes 
So they can run through the fields 
And feel that sweet wind lift their dreams 

Cause 
We were born to stand tall 
We were born to face the wind 
We were born to feel heartache and heal again 
Born to open up our hearts 
Raise our hands and sing 
We were born to fill the measure of our wings 
& be a light in the storm 
We were Born 

When your fire’s burned down to the embers 
Just recover and remember 

You were born to stand tall 
You were born to face the wind 
You were born to feel heartache and heal again 
Born to open up your heart 
Raise your hand and sing 
You were born to fill the measure of your wings 
To be a light in the storm 
We were born 
I was Born 

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.

Voldemort

Credit

My husband's latest confession really sent me spinning.

For the past six weeks, I've been depressed. Depression has come off and on for me for the past few years, but the past six weeks have been really hard. That's because I have been trying to acknowledge my feelings, face the addiction, and hope in ways that I haven't before. I realized I have been still in denial, so I've been trying to just be.

I went through this funk (did I say went? I mean, I've been in this funk) where I realized my love is very minimal. I know deep down, I love him. But that surface, giddy love that I want to feel is depleting. And it has started tearing apart at the deep love. In a moment of panic, I called my Relief Society president and one of my best friends asking them marriage and love questions. I was reassured that it's okay and completely normal for a normal relationship to have times where love is feeling minimal due to normal stressors. So for someone in my position, where we are fighting sex addiction, it's even more understandable for me to feel this way. That really helped.

I'm telling you this so you can understand where I'm coming from on this latest relapse. We've been working on strengthening our marriage. I've been taking it slowly and not pressuring myself to fall back in love too quickly, but, you know, that's the ultimate goal. And things have really been looking up. I've felt moments of pure happiness, which made me hopeful.

I started letting my guard down a little bit as I felt safer in our marriage. I started taking baby steps closer to him. And then...BAM!

Deep breath.

I've had numerous tender mercies this week. For starters, the day I was informed of the "stuff-that-must-not-be-named" [haha that makes me laugh. I'm still giggling about it, even though I don't believe not saying the name somehow makes it better. I just really like Harry Potter. Maybe we should just start referring to porn/masturbation/everything else sex-addiction related as Voldemort. Just for kicks], I worked on a guest-post I'm writing. The topic I decided on was, in essence, "you have to allow yourself to feel in order to fully heal." It got me thinking about everything and the things I've been working on and learning about allowing and expression emotions, and I felt really light and happy after writing it. When I got home, however, I was hit with Voldemort, and then came the downward spiral. BUT I took care of myself. Even though I had crazy amounts of crap to do for school, I allowed myself to feel. I cried. I prayed. I studied my scriptures. I wrote a blog post. I prayed some more. I cried a lot. And then I worked on my school stuff. It all worked out. I got less than six hours of sleep, but I woke up feeling rested.

I felt like crying most of yesterday, but my students took care of me. They are some good kids. And even though I felt like I was going to pass out, throw up, and had a super bad migraine for half the day, I made it through. Tender mercy.

Then my bishop kindly agreed to meet with me after young women's last night. Tender mercy. We had a most amazing and productive conversation. Tender mercy.

I had the strength to go home and be vulnerable. TENDER MERCY.

Last night, I talked to Ben. I really talked to him. I honestly don't remember everything I said, but I remember it was the most open I have been about the effects of pornography in our marriage. I know it made him kind of depressed, and I was afraid of that. But, I knew I couldn't let the fear of hurting him stop me from expressing the damage that is being done because, guess what, folks? Damage is being done. No amount of me trying to save what trust is remaining, or anything else for that matter, is going to make much of a difference--other than make me crazy. In fact, I know in my head that it is for the best to be completely honest about this. It's just hard to follow through with something that has the potential to make everything worse for the time being. But I did it.

I told him something bolder than I ever have. Viewing pornography and masturbating is basically the same as him cheating on me. I mean, I know it's different, and I know it would hurt so much more if he really did physically cheat on me. But guess what? He is depressed, and he turned to a fantasy world where he Voldemorted (haha) with other women. That is not okay. It is not faithful. It is not honest to our marriage covenant. Viewing pornography and masturbating is adultery of the heart and mind. At least in my eyes. And I let him know it.

Boy, was that scary.

But boy was that helpful.

I felt. I spoke up. I'm healing.

Today was beautiful. Tender mercy. Last night helped seal for me the idea that this is really happening, this is really my life. Apparently, even though I've known I'm kind of in denial, I still haven't been able to cope with it all the way. I'm sure I still haven't. But, in talking with my bishop, I realized (he pointed out) that I'm still longing for the marriage that is not--the marriage we might have had right now were it not for pornography. I'm mourning. I needed him to say that so I could see it and try to deal with things as they are. So I am.

I took off my wedding ring today. It was halfway through the school day while I was making bread with one of my classes. I put it back on for a second after bread-making was over, but I had this thought come to my head very clearly: "You don't have to put that back on right now. Take your time. Let yourself detach a little bit." Taking it off with that mindset was like a breath of fresh air. I no longer had that constant reminder on my finger. Instead, I had courage and a clear mind. I felt freedom--freedom from worry, stress, fatigue, tiredly fighting for a marriage that has lots of issues, and pain. I felt peace.

Another tender mercy was what I discovered about the Atonement while studying my scriptures today. But this is already a long post, so I'll save that for another day.

I just want to say thanks to everyone who has helped lift me up this week. You know who you are, and I really appreciate it. I have the best of friends, and I love you. Even if you weren't one of those people because you don't know me very well or personally (yet), thank you for your thoughts and prayers. I couldn't do this without each and every one of you.

I'm making it. Some days I feel like I won't. Some moments make me want to collapse. But I'm making it. If you're fighting an incredible fight, I have faith that you can make it too. We will get through this together.

The good news is, my bishop was at a loss of advice for me. "I have no idea what to tell you. Everything a bishop would advise, you're already doing. You have the right mind-frame. I don't need to tell you it's not about you. I don't need to tell you you're strong and capable. You're forgiving, loving, and compassionate. So, just keep being you and keep having faith." Thanks, Bishop. That really made me feel good :)

And Thus is My Life

I hope you don't take this the wrong way. Because unless you keep reading all the way through my post, you might. Ready for it?

Lately, I've had a love-hate relationship with Christ. And God. And life. And the list goes on.

Phew. Said it. This is a no judgment zone, so if you're thinking something judgmental...[He can see you]

I feel really rotten saying stuff like that. It makes me feel bad. I don't really know why (okay, there are lots of reasons why), maybe because I just don't want Him to think I don't have faith. I do have faith. I think. Well, faith is tricky. Let's not go there. We'll just say I have faith. But, you know, things are just so HARD. And just when they start looking up...well...BAM! So long, sucker! At least, that's how I feel. Like right now.

I do know that Christ is there. Always. I think I just get mad sometimes and don't know where to direct my anger or frustration. And since I tend to get mad at innocent bystanders who love me, sometimes I choose Him (being mad at innocent bystanders is something I'm trying to overcome. I'm working on it). 

Sigh. Are you confused? Me too.

Let's try this again. So, lately, I've been struggling. It's been about five weeks since Ben's last relapse, and during these five weeks, things have not gone super smoothly. I've fought some serious depression. I've relived past experiences. I've visited crazy-town. I've prayed and felt like my prayers aren't being heard or answered. I've prayed and had beautiful experiences. I've felt lost, alone, and confused. I've felt God's hand in my life, and I've seen His works. I've seen light. I've felt darkness. I've felt Satan literally ripping me down. Annnnnd I've felt Christ literally carrying me. 

I don't really have a love-hate relationship with Christ. My life is just rough, and sometimes I don't know what to do. 

A recent comment on my blog talked about how in her Sunday School class, the teacher posed a question about how adversity makes you better. After all the typical answers in that discussion, someone stated that sometimes adversity feels like a big fight between better and bitter. That's how I feel, and that's the only way I can elaborate on how I feel like I have had a love-hate relationship with Christ recently. I trust that He understands. And I do try to show Him my love and recognize His hand in my life as much as possible. But I'm fighting the better vs. bitter fight, which isn't easy. 

About ten days ago, I made a choice. I chose to let adversity make me better, and I've been trying to stick to my dailies and self-care. Last week, I started working harder at studying my scriptures. I've had some beautiful experiences with that. 

Yesterday, while I studied my scriptures, I came across the sacrament verses. Christ said, "And if ye do always remember me ye shall have my spirit to be with you." That really made me think. As I've been struggling to see Christ and fight bitterness, I haven't really thought much about having the Spirit as my companion, just Christ. So I asked myself the question: why do I even want the Spirit as my companion?

This is why:

-Without the Spirit, my life would be empty. 

-The Holy Ghost is a cleansing agent to sanctify me from sin. It is through the Holy Ghost that I can be made pure and holy. The Holy Ghost helps me fight Satan.

-The Spirit knows all things. I can lean on the Holy Ghost for truth. I can receive revelation for myself and my family. I can take steps on the path that was meant for me. Without the Spirit, without the ability to receive revelation from God, I would be running around like a chicken with its head cut off. There would be no point, no purpose. There would be no direction. I would have nothing. [this is critically important for when I need some revelation in regards to the addiction, trust, honesty, and how to handle things]

-The Holy Ghost is the source of communication from God to my spirit. I can receive knowledge and direction from God.

-The Holy Ghost gives us gifts of the spirit. Gifts of the spirit are so important. They are my talents and spiritual abilities. Through these gifts, miracles can be worked in my life and the life of others. Through these gifts, I can see healing at heaven's fountain.

-He is the Comforter. 'Nuff said, honestly. I am almost always in need of comfort.

-He can fill me with hope and perfect love. And "perfect love casteth out all fear."

-He can teach me peace.

After making this list, I realized, man, I do want the companionship of the Holy Ghost. I can't live without the Spirit. The blessings of the Spirit's companionship are crucial to living a happy and healthy life. It won't make life easier, but it will make life more bearable. I need the Spirit with me at all times. I really do. So I made a little vow to work a little harder. Last night.

And then...

I was put to the test. Tonight. 

Today, I really tried to stay close to the Spirit and follow promptings. I acted on some promptings that prepared me and put me in the proper mindset for what awaited me at home.

Addiction pain.

It was a whirlwind of stuff that I'll probably write about later. I can't right now because I have two tests to write, tests to grade, and a lesson to plan. And I have to wake up in 9 hours... and counting down.

The main thing I want to talk about regarding the relapse is the love I felt for Ben when he told me. 

I felt pain, yes. I felt hurt and betrayed. I still feel pain and betrayal. BUT, I followed the Spirit. I was at least able to address Ben's depression (the trigger that led to the relapse) and express sympathy and compassion for that. I even expressed my hurt and said the words, "Turning to porn when you are depressed is not okay." I even accepted his apology. I really do know he is sorry. I did tell him, though, that while an apology is a great step, it does not make it right. I felt the Spirit tugging at me to direct him to Sidreis's blog, I told him to read a certain post of hers I read recently.  And then I cried. And then I got on my computer and watched Bible Videos, following my inspiration as to which ones to watch. And they made me cry again. I watched "I Am The Bread of Life," "Forgive 70 times 7," and "Jesus Declares the Parable of the Lost Sheep." During that hour of what could have been darkness and despair, I felt the guiding hand of Jesus Christ. I felt whole as I watched videos about His life. I felt light as I pondered my role in this life, and I felt light as I pondered His role in my life. I even felt strength of angels around me, which is what I fasted for this past Sunday.

I'm still kind of mad. And that's okay. But I'm also so, so incredibly grateful that I have been led to find things in the scriptures that have the perfect timing in my life. I'm grateful for all the tender mercies of the Lord. 

I love my Savior. That's the moral of my story tonight.

The "How's it Going" Question

Credit

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

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

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

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

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

Pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is power in vulnerability. 

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

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

Salt and Light

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Matthew 5:13--"Ye are the salt of the earth."

Matthew 5:14--"Ye are the light of the world."

Matthew 5:16--"Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your father, which is in heaven." 

There are similar verses in the Book of Mormon when Jesus comes to the Americas. I quoted the verses from the New Testament, though, for you non-LDS folk :)

When I read these verses, they punched my gut. Do you know what the purpose of salt is? Salt is a spice that is used to inhibit bacterial growth and spoilage of food. Do you already see where I'm going with this? Is your heart thumping like mine is?

I am the salt of the earth. We are the salt of the earth. We, the lovely people who have been chosen to face and battle pornography and sex-addiction head on, are the salt of the earth. Why? Because we are strong. We are powerful. We have voice. And we are amazing!

God trusts us.

While talking to friends at the Togetherness Project, we all pretty much agreed that pornography and the misuse of sex is going to be the plague of the last days. In case you haven't noticed, it's getting bad, folks. Pornography is so easily attainable. Sex is tossed around like a rag doll. Trust me, I teach high school. This stuff is totally normal to the young generation. Actually, being disengaged from the sexual phenomenon is completely abnormal. 

Pornography and sex-addiction is bacterial growth. It's causing our beautiful world to spoil, to rot. We need people to be the salt. We need people to inhibit, or at least slow, the plague. We need people to fight hard and take a stand.

Do you know what else is significant about salt? Well, at the time these scriptures were written, salt was a highly valued spice. That brings to light some further significance of us being salt.

I am the salt of the earth: I am valuable. You are the salt of the earth: you are valuable. While we are fighting this addiction, sometimes we see things through the wrong lenses. We might only see ourselves through the my-husband/loved one-looks-at-porn-that-must-mean-I'm-not-valuable-to-him/her-lens. We might get so depressed that we think we are nothing. We might try to compete with porn for attention.

Don't be fooled!

We are the salt of the earth. We have divine purpose. We have divine power. We can help fight this fight. We can help slow the rotting that is happening to the world. We can see our value and power and make this fight something Satan wished he had never started.

We can do it.

We are also the light. We are disciples of Christ. As members of His church, we are asked to act as He acts. He is light. If we take His name upon us, that also makes us a light. We can help lead people out of darkness.

There is much to be done. Right now, my focus as a light is to aid in fighting pornography. In doing that, I want to help other people see what I see. I want other people to feel what I feel. I want women (or men) who feel lost, alone, and helpless to realize that they have a circle of love and friendship among us, the others who have been hurt by sex-addiction. I want both addicts and spouses/loved ones of addicts to step out of the darkness and shame. I want us to be brave and show the world who we are. I want us to rally together to thwart Satan--to be the light, to be the salt!

Seriously. We can do it.

Owning my Story

One of the big takeaways I had from the TogethernessProject is that I need to be more open. I need to own my story. It’s my story. Yes, it’s also my husband’s. But this side, the spouse side of things, is mine. I own this side, and it’s my story to tell.

I’ve actually been wanting to be more open. I didn’t ever want to write an anonymous blog. I didn’t want this to be a big, huge, hairy scary secret. I have always just wanted to be me. I’ve wanted to tell friends and family. I’ve wanted it to be something we’re not ashamed of. I was once ashamed—back when being married to a porn addict was a fresh idea and definitely not one I was fond of. I’m still not in love with that fact, but I am in love with my husband. And honestly? I’m more proud of the ground we have covered and the growth we have experienced than ashamed. Really. We are AWESOME!

When I originally felt prompted to start my blog, my husband was afraid. Out of respect for him, I kept the secret. I also kept the secret a little out of fear because my bishop told me that the addiction was between us, and if I blabbed to the world, it might put our marriage in even more turmoil. Well, when you’re in turmoil, more does not. sound. like. fun.

Want to know the reason I started my blog? I had no resources. None. Zip. Zero. Nada! I wanted to be a voice. I wanted to take action, so I prayed to ask how and what I could do. This was my answer. I knew I was not alone. I knew I was not the only wife of a sex addict. I started blogging to help others, to be a resource. I hoped that if people found my blog, they would see that they weren’t alone, and I hoped it could give them strength.

My blog has probably served me more than anyone else. I wrote for about three or four months before I found the LDS Addiction Recovery Blogs website. And then? I started connecting with other women. I started learning from other’s experiences—I was seeing the other end of exactly what I had created my own blog for. I made friends. I felt love. I saw how not crazy I am. I put pieces together, and things started making more sense.

I learned about the Togetherness Project through my blog, and for that I will be eternally grateful. Seriously, I can’t even contain the happiness bursting out of me! I am grinning just thinking about this weekend! :D See? :D I made friends there. I felt loved and secure. I realized even more how beautiful and strong I am becoming because of this trial.

The Togetherness Project helped me gain the courage I needed to tell my husband that this part of the story is mine, and I want to own it. I believe experiences are to be learned from and shared so others can learn from them too. I stood up to my fears to tell him that. Believe me, it was scary. I had so much anxiety about it that I thought I might pass out while I was waiting for him to pick me up from the airport. The Togetherness Project also helped me gain the courage to tell him that I want to give firesides in our stake and actually follow through with that (we have talked about that in the past…but you can’t publicly speak about something that is a big, huge secret).

I’m reaching out.

I feel Satan pushing against me, mainly through fear. I’m not letting him win.

I agreed to be in a picture that will be on someone else’s blog. My face. On a WoPA blog.

I reached out to Jacy and told her of my dream to help the women living down in my area. Being a voice against porn/sex addiction is a passion of mine. I have ideas. But I can’t fulfill any of my dreams or ideas if this is a secret part of my life.

The secret’s out. I’m being brave. People might talk. People might judge the situation. I might feel more alone at times, but I don’t care because it is worth it to me if I can help other women realize they are not alone in this. I felt alone for too long, and I know many women have felt alone for even longer. So. On that note…

Hi, I’m Kilee. 

This was taken at the Togetherness Project. That's me on the right.
On the left is my friend Alicia. She is awesome!

My middle name is Marie (hence my previous pen-name. Using my middle name seemed less anonymous. Still me). I’m married to a sex-addict, and I love him. Once upon a time, I entertained the thought of divorce. It was a thought that scared the heck out of me because I had only been married a wee six months. Right now, I’m planning on never divorcing him. We are working through our problems, and he is trying to recover from his addiction. But, you know, I guess we will see.

I write about my journey through this trial. However, my life isn’t all about sex addiction. That’s a part of it, yes, a big part, but it’s definitely not all. My life is just life. It's beautiful. It's amazing. It's a gift. I see beauty and joy in every day.

I'm the wife of a sex-addict, but I'm also so much more.

I like to learn. I try to make every moment a learning opportunity. I learn from my students, the youth I work with at church, experiences, books, friends, and family. I don't want any opportunity that could better myself to be missed.

I love to laugh. I love it when I make myself laugh (usually because I’m so weird). I love dancing! I am by no means a good dancer. I just love it, and I love being goofy. I especially love dancing in the car.

I love music! I love to sing and play the piano. Once again, I’m not a great singer, but I totally don’t care! I belt out songs when I am happy or angry. I sing to my husband to cheer him up. I sing to myself to cheer me up. Music is a big part of my life (if you couldn’t tell from the many songs I have posted). Music makes me happy and calms me.

I love to exercise. I love the feeling of being completely exhausted but knowing I’m a beast. I think that comes down to my love for accomplishing hard things. I played sports in high school, which I think has helped me manage tough things in my life. I want to start yoga when I feel like my body is up to it. I also want to run a marathon some day.

I’m one of the most injury/accident-prone people you will ever meet. My life is a series of unfortunate injuries—one after another. My exercising/sports-playing has been put on hold many times due to things I physically can’t do. I did develop a love for swimming, though, which can be done during most of my injuries.

I love creating things. I love to sew, and I especially love to experiment with creating my own patterns. I love to paint and draw. It’s therapeutic for me, but it’s also a passion. I love to cook/bake. I love making people happy with my creations—whatever they may be. I think my love for creation stems from my love for God and what He has given me.

I love watching movies and snuggling under a blanket. Especially on a rainy day.

Speaking of rainy days, I love puddle jumping! Or dancing in the rain.

I also love to read. I love stories—the creation of stories and living through stories. I love imagination and writing. I once wanted to be an author.

I love teenagers. I teach high school, and I work with my church’s youth group (for you LDS-folk, I’m the miamaid adviser). I seriously love it! Teenagers are fun!

I want to have a family more than anything. I’ve been told that maybe I haven’t been able to get pregnant yet because I need to work on my relationship with my husband more. Well, we’re trying. Being infertile is incredibly painful, but it definitely increases my desire for a family. I know I’ll appreciate it more when I do have children. Right now, I just consider my students and youth-group my children. I love and care about them so much. All of the hard things I’m doing are helping prepare me to be a mother. I know that is my divine purpose.

Making myself known is a big step for me. I know it isn’t necessary for everyone, but it just feels right for me. I’ve learned from experience that when God tells me to do something, I need to do it. Putting my name and face on my blog was the biggest prompting I received at the Togetherness Project—I think because it’s the next step toward serving others who are in this situation. It’s right. It’s time for me to be brave. So here I am, putting myself out there. I am a little afraid. Okay, a lot afraid. Now people I know might actually find me (gasp!) and get personal details about my life. That is a scary thought because I tend to keep the details between me and my close peeps. I'm totally okay with being open; it's just the fear of what people might think about me and my life that keeps me closed. I'm stepping out there now because what I want most is to spread the hope and joy I feel.

I'm the wife of a sex-addict. I'm also a woman of many talents and passions. 

Welcome to my corner of the world.

Here’s to hope and joy! Hurrah!