We are meant to find joy

It's been a while. Every once in a while, I get the urge to write, but it's usually too sensitive and personal so I keep it in my journal. But today, I started writing in my journal and was led back here to finish some of my thoughts.

I've been struggling. My pregnancy is HARD. Being a mom is hard. Being a pregnant mom to a toddler is hard. I could go on, but let's just sum it up and say things are hard. Life is hard.

I hurt my back a couple months ago, and it's made my pregnancy and everything else that much more difficult. I started physical therapy, which has been really great for me and has helped me be much more capable than I was after I hurt my back. But my back is still a problem and will continue to be for a long time.

Ben has been also struggling with his own things, and together, I feel like we are kind of a mess. Not in a really bad way, but we are both just being refined at the same time. And that makes it a little hard to lean on each other because we are both so drained in so many ways.

A couple days ago, I had a huge emotional breakdown. Part of it was the fact that it was midnight, and I was extremely tired after a long day of watching two of my nieces (so I had a 3, 2, and 1 yr old for 10 hours, which wasn't terrible, but it was just exhausting at almost 29 weeks pregnant). Part of it was simply hormones. But a lot of it had to do with being stretched way too thin and not taking time to back up and do some self-care. I get so busy caring for everyone else around me that sometimes I forget to take care of myself. I think I need to be (and honestly, who doesn't want to be) supermom, superwife, superwoman ALL. THE. TIME. So I go, go, go, and I forget to slow down and just breathe for myself.

For a long time, I have felt a little out of place in this "wopa-land" because I'm not in immediate trauma, and overall things are going really well. Ben and I are communicating well for the most part, and we are both making tons of individual progress with our counselors, which is helping us make progress in our marriage. I'm really happy. Happier than I have been in a very long time. And I just want to soak up that happiness, but life keeps throwing hard things at us, so I have been fluctuating between feeling happy, wanting to feel happy, and feeling stressed out, anxious, and not really knowing where to turn.

Ben hasn't acted out recently, and I feel like for the first time, he is in real, true recovery. Things are coming together in ways they haven't before, and I just feel so blessed to have him as my spouse and the father of my children. But, I have been feeling like I'm in a place of trauma because in a way we are at a d-day anniversary. What I mean by that is, during this time of my first pregnancy, things were really hard. He had started acting out again about two years ago (almost to the day, so at that point in that pregnancy, I was somewhere around 20ish weeks), and it started a cycle that got increasingly worse through the pregnancy. Towards the end, it got better. But then it got bad again after our son was born, and things were really scary and hard. So, maybe it's the fact that it's September (a month that has been ruined several times over the years, but especially during that pregnancy), or maybe it's the fact that it's that time during my pregnancy when things got really hard, but I'm having trauma flashbacks that I'm having to deal with. I'm experiencing anxiety and reliving pain, and I'm trying not to let fear get the best of me. 

Someone suggested to me that maybe I didn't take the time to process or feel those things at the time they happened, and so maybe that's why I'm struggling now. That may be true to an extent because I remember a lot of the end of my pregnancy and then being a new mom was spent in survival mode. But I do think I processed and felt too. I think it's normal to experience this type of flashback after a lot of pain, and I just have to figure out how to honor and process through it without letting it overtake me.

So a couple days ago, I had that huge emotional breakdown. It led me to feel a lot of shame because of the way I treated Ben that night, but I also spiraled down into a dark place of self-hatred. Which, in turn, led me to feel and almost believe that everyone hates me, that I don't have any friends who really care about me, that my family doesn't even care about me, and Ben especially hates me, and I'm not worthy of love. I felt inadequate in all areas of my life, and I felt so alone.

While I was being mean (or, in a gentler tone, while I was hurting and feeling like I was dying inside), I asked Ben to sleep on the couch. Because my brain was telling me that he hated me, and I didn't want him near me if he hated me. But after he left and I cried for a while, I was pleading for help and felt like I just needed to go out and get him, wake him up, and talk to him. He was nice and as compassionate as one can be at midnight when your pregnant wife is having an emotional breakdown. Then yesterday we both had some space and did some self-care, and we both feel better.

Anyway, now that I'm more calm and thinking more clearly, I've been writing to process and de-junk the rest of my brain. And I've been thinking about that night and how dark I felt. I don't want to feel that way. I don't like feeling that way, and I don't like the lies that Satan can so easily feed us when we start spiraling. Here's the real thing: God doesn't want us to feel that way either. I've been making more of an effort to turn to God every day. I'm not perfect, and it's much harder than it used to be when I was a blissful college student who made the goal to turn to God first every day before starting on homework. It was easy. It's not quite so easy anymore. But I've been trying. I try to pray, I try to study my scriptures or a conference talk daily, and I've been writing more. Writing helps me process and soak in what I've read.

As I'm making more of an effort to reach out to God, I see and feel Him more often. Sometimes I feel so alone, but it's not because God is leaving me alone. It's because the pavilion of pain I'm stuck behind is preventing me from seeing Him. But when I try to get around that pavilion, I find Him. Sometimes it takes longer to find Him that others, but I'm trying to be less angry about that and more accepting of life in general. Life isn't meant to be easy. But we are meant to find joy anyway.

That's something I'm trying to keep in mind. It takes effort, but if I want to find that true joy and keep it with me on a regular basis, the effort is something I'm willing to give.

I just want all of you to know that you aren't alone either. You have God. You have me. And if you open up and shame-bust to trusted people, you will find that they feel a lot of the same things you do too. Because we are all human. If you feel that you are suffering alone, reach out. That's the best way to break through the darkness. Satan wants you to feel alone, and he is good at his methods. But with God, we are never alone. And if He can't reach us, He will send others who can.

"That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake"

I was not going to write about this because of a few reasons that are very personal, but I had a powerful spiritual experience tonight prompting me to write about my week.

Ben has been out of town. Normally, when he goes out of town I get bitter and angry, which I think has to do with insecure attachment, triggers, and trauma. However, this time was different. I didn't feel that same anger or bitterness. I just accepted it and was determined to make it a good week.

Of course, that went to pot on Tuesday. I should've known the more I accept things, the more I will be challenged.

Tuesday night I found out Ben had relapsed. This hit me harder than I actually thought it would.

For one thing, we are experiencing a trial that we haven't experienced before: He is currently not allowed to exercise the priesthood. At all. Not even in the home (in the past, when he has been asked not to exercise the priesthood, he has been encouraged to still exercise the priesthood in the home). I can't remember when this happened, but it's been months. And I feel like our family has suffered from not being able to have Ben exercise the priesthood. For reasons I don't really want to explain right now, it's hard for me to reach out and ask someone else for a priesthood blessing, for either me or the little guy. I do when I feel like it's really super necessary, but if I think, "Well, maybe I'll pass this time," (which I have been thinking way more than I used to since I can't actually ask the man in my home), it turns into a lot of opportunities passed on.

Our bishop set certain dates/goals for Ben to help him work full activity in the church again. This Sunday (like, in two days) was supposed to be the one where if he could remain sober till this Sunday, he could start partaking of the sacrament again. He was so close. So close! And he next mark (I can't remember the spacing though) was for Priesthood, and the next one for the temple. I was way more devastated by the fact that this was a setback in him being able to exercise the priesthood again than by the details of acting out.

Anyway, it took a few hours to sink in. But then, when it did, I was a mess. A MESS. I reached out to my bishop, who happens to live across the street, asking for a blessing (I'm not sure I would have reached out to our home teachers in this circumstance, but I didn't have that option anyway because I have no clue who they are). It was pretty late, 10:00, so I decided if I had no response by 10:15, I would just go to bed. At 10:15, I had no response, so I sent him another text saying I was going to bed and not to worry about it.

That night, Baby Boy slept terribly. When he woke up at 12:15, I managed to get him back to sleep fairly quickly, but when he woke up at 4:30, all hell broke loose. No joke. We both spent much of the next two hours crying. And then two more hours crying/drugging ourselves with Mother Goose Club.

I asked God for strength to deal with it. But when I felt that strength waning and Satan starting to take over, I started begging, pleading with God to just let me get this kid to sleep. He needed sleep, I surely needed sleep. And I felt like I just knew that if I prayed/begged/pleaded enough, He would intervene. At 8:30, baby fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, and I did not feel like it was an answer to prayer. I felt bitter, angry, and violent (I did not do anything violent other than punch a wall. But I'm sure you have felt violent anger before...), and I felt like I was just an inch away from Satan taking complete control over me.

I didn't understand why God had abandoned me. Maybe He didn't, and when the kid fell asleep it was because of divine intervention. I didn't feel that way, though. I felt like I had done everything I could, and here I was with a fresh disclosure weighing me down and a child who wouldn't sleep (and I had been sick, so generally tired anyway). I felt like I knew my own limitations, and when I prayed for strength, I was doing okay. But when the strength faded and I prayed for sleep, I needed that help right then. Why it took two more hours for that prayer to be answered, I don't know. But I felt abandoned. I felt on the verge of Satan taking over, and I didn't understand why God had let it go that far when so much pain could have been avoided if He had helped when I called out.

And then, my bishop never reached out to me. He knew about the disclosure, and he knew Ben was out of town. I just thought, surely he would reach out to me to check on me and make sure I was okay after the text I had sent him the night before. And I thought, if God loves me, He will prompt my bishop to come visit with me. But nothing. He has told us multiple times to reach out to him any time, and many times, our reaching out has gone completely unanswered. So, that felt like yet another way I was abandoned by God. I was too hurt to reach out to him again.

Some other ridiculously stupid stuff happened on Wednesday that made me feel like the day was just hilariously terrible (but I was smiling by the end of the day), and I had worked through my feelings so I no longer felt bitter, angry, or abandoned. Confused, yes, but okay. I seriously went through a period of thinking I should just go inactive because maybe the bishop would pay more attention if I was an inactive member of the ward who reached out.  I also considered this option just out of pure spite. But, in the end, I knew that would be a poor choice and I just tried to accept the week's happenings and move on with my life.

Yesterday (Thursday), so many things happened that showed me God had not abandoned me. I just felt strong, capable, and loved. I sent up a lot of prayers of gratitude.

But what happened tonight is the sole purpose of everything else I have written.

This week has been exhausting, to say the least. Beautiful, but exhausting. Tonight, I got the little one in bed and sat on the couch wondering what to do first. I had promised myself earlier in the day that I WOULD do gospel study tonight, but the time came and I just felt so exhausted that all I wanted to do was veg. But, I chose to read a talk from general conference entitled "I Am A Child of God" by Elder Donald L. Hallstrom (read it here). I didn't get to pay enough attention to conference last weekend, so I've been studying the talks throughout the week. And this one, well, this was perfectly timed to come across today.

Words cannot even describe how beautiful this talk is. I highly encourage everyone to study it and let the Spirit speak to you in whatever way you need. But I want to share a couple quotes that particularly spoke to me:

In real life, we face actual, not imagined, hardships. There is pain—physical, emotional, and spiritual. There are heartbreaks when circumstances are very different from what we had anticipated. There is injustice when we do not seem to deserve our situation. There are disappointments when someone we trusted failed us. There are health and financial setbacks that can be disorienting. There may be times of question when a matter of doctrine or history is beyond our current understanding.

When difficult things occur in our lives, what is our immediate response? Is it confusion or doubt or spiritual withdrawal? Is it a blow to our faith? Do we blame God or others for our circumstances? Or is our first response to remember who we are—that we are children of a loving God? Is that coupled with an absolute trust that He allows some earthly suffering because He knows it will bless us, like a refiner’s fire, to become like Him and to gain our eternal inheritance?

Recently, I was in a meeting with Elder Jeffrey R. Holland. In teaching the principle that mortal life can be agonizing but our hardships have eternal purpose—even if we do not understand it at the time—Elder Holland said, “You can have what you want, or you can have something better.”

and the last verse of "How Firm a Foundation"

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose
I will not, I cannot, desert to his foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no never, I’ll never, no never,
I’ll never, no never, no never forsake!

These words spoke to me. They reminded me that I cannot see all, but God can. I don't know why I'm going through all the trials I am right now (there are more than I have just written about). Sometimes I feel like I am suffering so much in so many different ways, and I wonder why I can't just have a "normal" life--whatever that is. Why do I have to keep trying so hard all the time? Why can't I just have some peace...like my husband could go out of town, sure, but even if he had to relapse, couldn't I just have a baby who slept through the night he relapsed instead of waking up and being crazy when I'm exhausted and in trauma? Can't I catch a break?

But the reality is, after the 24 hours where pretty much everything went wrong, I had chosen God's path. And I felt peace and the knowledge that things were okay even though I didn't understand why I was experiencing what I did. And, two days after that first 24 hours, I have seen so much more light. We truly can't experience the light until we have experienced the darkness. I caught myself expressing gratitude for my trials on Wednesday. I didn't even know why I felt grateful, but I knew there had to be a divine purpose. There is. There always is. 

Trauma Days

Sometimes I have days where I'm doing so well. I live for those days/moments.

Other times, trauma can come out of nowhere. Or, not necessarily out of nowhere, but I minimize the thing that happened and think, "Why am I reacting this way? I am being crazy and overreacting."

Note to self: Sometimes trauma hits harder than other times. There are days when you may feel crazy, and that's okay. Because you have gone through hell, and you are trying to find your way back up. Some days will be better than others.

Right now I feel like I am in trauma, but if I look at the reasons or events that have happened lately, I just yell at myself and tell myself I should be stronger. Because strong people don't lose it like this. Especially because right now things aren't really that bad. They could be worse.

I don't really know what is truth right now. I'm just trying to follow my instincts and trust them.

Scoreboard

It's amazing how the trauma resulting from situations in my life can continue to have an impact on my life. No matter how hard I try to deal with my life appropriately.

I've lost a friend because of my depression. Score 1 for Satan and trauma. *sigh*

However, I've been working really hard on my recovery this week. On Sunday, when I had that realization that I don't know how to live a "normal" life, and I don't know how to be happy, I told myself that I will learn. I will find happiness and joy again. I've been taking baby steps this week to regain what has been lost.

I've given myself tasks every day. Things that need to get done. I even write them down so I don't forget (pregnancy brain/foggy depression brain have kicked in a cause me to forget in an instant what I should be working on). I spent time with some friends on Tuesday. I've been working on keeping the apartment clean and in order, something that Ben has put in more than his fair share of doing while I've been in a depressive slump. Heck, I've even cooked dinner EVERY NIGHT THIS WEEK. That is huge for me :)

I have permission from my bishop to find a counselor. The ward will help me pay for it.

Today, I'm going to work on my to-do list. And I'm also going to read a book. Or two.

I've turned to God every day.

And when I was really lost in trauma because of a situation that happened yesterday, I stood back from the moment and looked at the options, "I can lose myself in the depression of this situation. I can be angry and choose to be prideful. Or I can ask God for His help. I can ask for His hand to hold mine as I mourn this situation, and I can ask for Him to speak to my heart and guide me in handling this situation appropriately."

I chose the latter.

It's amazing what reaching out to God first can do. I reached out to Him before anyone else. And I've felt His presence lifting me up when I feel like I'm falling down.

So even though this trauma has had far-reaching effects and have caused a friendship to almost vanish before my eyes, this trauma has also taught me. I've learned how to search my soul. I've learned how to turn to God. I've learned what of the power of gratitude. I've seen beauty in so many ways.

Satan got one point this week. But God is on my team, and with Him, my team has so many more points. 

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.

Trauma Response

My body has been conditioned to feel a trauma response when I am faced with decisions. Any decision, big or small. I start shutting down. I feel it start in my head. Then it starts closing in on the rest of my body. And holy cow, I just need to lay down and shut the world out. Except I think I've been trying to lay down and shut the world out for months. It's not getting better. I still feel that trauma response erupt every time I have any kind of trigger. But the triggers aren't necessarily about sex/media/etc. Most of them are emotional triggers that remind me of the pain I felt earlier this year and bring me back to every pain I have felt in my life.

I don't know how I can live this way. I'm not living. Every little thing requires a huge decision. Every decision requires hours and hours of thinking and weighing all possibilities and making sure I have evaluated as much as I can with the information I have. 

I have decisions to make today. One fairly big. One pretty small. Both are shutting me down.

When will I stop feeling so frozen and be able to make a decision again? 

I'm trying to turn it over to Christ. But it's hard. So hard. So many fears. So many traumas erupting. 

I was introduced to Casting Crowns this week. I'm a little obsessed. You should be too. Listen to both songs. Drink in the lyrics. 

Just Be Held

 The Well

POST EDIT: I have spent the morning praying and turning my turmoil over to God, along with asking for guidance in the decisions that needed to be made (which were actually three, not two, as I said earlier). I received answers to my prayers, which were not the answers that I was anticipating. But, from the answers I received, I know that God is mindful of me. He knows my limitations and needs. I've also had a few other things happen this morning that show me God is near. 

Oh Lord, how many times?

How often do I need to be reminded that I can't do this alone? This being life.

I've struggled with a faith crisis, as is normal among women who have gone through trauma. I think it's good for life to shake your faith and make you question things. It makes us stronger and gives us a deeper love for what we do come to believe in.

This faith crisis has been brought on by many things. There are a lot of things I have been wrestling with. But the most important thing is my faith in God. I've wondered if He is actually there. And if He isn't...that would change everything. Everything. I've wondered if Christ is real. Is He real? Is the Atonement real? Am I really never alone? Is He really always there for me? Because I've felt alone many times.

When it comes down to it, I feel that the most important thing I need to reconcile is my faith in God and Christ. So that's what I've been focusing most of my efforts on.

As I've been questioning things lately, I keep finding little answers or things that help me hold on. A tender mercy that is in no way coincidental. A little sign that God is aware of me. Sweet feelings of peace when I work on my Healing Through Christ steps, pray, and ponder. I've received so many blessings. There are so many things that show me I am not alone. I am never alone.

And yet, Satan still trickles in there forcing me to ask questions and second-guess everything I know and feel. But I'm starting to learn how to sort out the things I know from the things I think I know and the things that need a little more work. I'm learning how to hold on to the things I do know and work on the rest. I'm learning how to recognize what is from Satan and what is from God.

And God, bless Him, keeps giving me little challenges to test my faith. He keeps showing me that I can't do this alone. I can't. But He is always there with me.

Yesterday, I spent four hours at the hospital. This week has felt like the pregnancy week from hell. I've been so sick. After the intense nausea buildup Monday and Tuesday morning, I started throwing up Tuesday night and yesterday morning. I've had quite my fill of pregnancy barfing, and I am equipped to handle it. Or, I thought I was until yesterday when I realized I hadn't kept anything down in almost 24 hours and the barfing would. not. stop. I called my doctor to ask at what point I should be worried and possibly need an iv. I described what I was experiencing in my body. Her response? "Now. Go to the ER and explain what is going on and get fluids in you."

All the retching put my back in a foul condition. And caused other physical issues. Needless to say, I was pretty miserable.

Last night I expressed to Ben that I feel traumatized by my life. I've experienced a lot of different physical and emotional traumas that I'm starting to wonder if I'll go crazy and freak out about every little thing. I also sometimes wonder how I can keep going. And why God keeps letting me have these challenges when I KNOW He could very easily call some of this off (or all of it, but I wouldn't expect Him to let me go without any trials...).

I asked for and received a Priesthood blessing last night. And I hate to admit, I was a little MAD at God that I wasn't just told I would be healed or that I wouldn't throw up any more and I could finish the pregnancy smoothly. I was MAD that whenever I ask for blessings of healing, I am never healed. I am just given strength or whatever and instructed to use the Atonement. I just want to be healed and be done with this crap.

As I've thought about the words that were said in my blessing, along with my initial reaction, I was hit with this thought that if God did take away this pain 100% or assure me that I would be physically healed every time I asked Him to heal me, I would never learn. I would never grow. I would always crap out because of the expectation that He will heal me. I would never develop a real sense of faith or understanding of the Atonement and how that works in my life.

I'm so stubborn. Seriously. How often do I need to be reminded that I can't do this alone? How many times does God have to tell me He will give me the strength to keep going as I seek Christ and let Him carry my burdens? I used to know how to do that. And then I got too comfortable. And then I became too traumatized and started shutting down.

I have to keep going. I have to seek Christ.

I'm working on step 2 in Healing Through Christ. It's all about believing that the power of God can restore me. Today, I answered a lot of questions about the Atonement and my relationship with Christ. I've been kind of avoiding this part because I'm afraid to really dig deep into my faith crisis and identify what exactly is going on. The questions were pretty simple, but as I dug deep within myself, I found things I have buried.

I do feel traumatized by my life. I have been through a lot--even outside what I have suffered from this addiction. I'm getting tired. Just tired.

If Christ is my Savior, and if He really does know and understand my pain, what is holding me back from welcoming that in and turning to Him with my burdens?

Fear. I'm afraid that maybe He isn't actually there, so I kind of don't want to test it. I'm afraid that maybe He won't save me. Or maybe His will is different from my will.

I want to believe He is there. In fact, I do believe He is there. I'm just wounded and haven't picked myself up yet to go find Him and ask Him to tend to my wounds. Because maybe I'm afraid that He is also so wounded that He won't be able to carry me (which I KNOW is not true).

I know He can carry me. I've had that witnessed to me many times. I know He is there. I've had that witnessed to me many times as well. I know I am never alone. Those witnesses are what I hold on to. I have been given light. I have been given multiple instances to see God's hand in my life. And I hold on to those. I cling to them, actually.

I'm never alone.

I'm never alone.

I'm never alone.

I can't do this alone.

How many times do I have to be shown that I can't do this alone?

I don't know. But I do know that if I turn my burdens over to Him, He will be there and will help pick me up. And I can keep carrying on because He is by my side.

He will keep testing me. And I will keep getting stronger.

You'll Be Okay

There is no predictable time to feel trauma.

There is no time when you should or shouldn't feel trauma.

Trauma affects us to our very core. It changes who we are, and the effects may flare up at any given time.

When trauma hits, be brave. Take time to show compassion to yourself. Remember who you are, take care of yourself, and ride it out. Don't rush it. Just take it in stride and do the best you can.

Try to stay close to God, even if it's just a simple whispered prayer begging for mercy.


We're all doing the best we can.

The Presence of Angels

I've had a hard time being motivated by anything lately. Last week, I allowed the whole bishop thing to push me into a trauma-depression--well, that along with some things regarding Ben and our relationship. I fought for a couple of days to not go into depression, but then I gave up. I think I needed to just wallow in some pain and allow myself to do NOTHING with my life for a few days. Nothing, except survive. And I did.

Sunday, I fasted for me, Ben, and some of my Warrior Sisters who have also been having a hard time. My fast (or possibly my change of heart about some things) helped me rise above the depression. I was literally carried by Christ. I know it.

When I went to group Sunday night, I wasn't sure what to share. It was the first time I ever considered just not sharing. But, I decided to share a little about my week. As I rambled about the bishop thing and my depression, I realized the point I needed to share: God never lets us alone.

Sometimes I feel alone. I definitely did while I was in that dark, lonely place called depression. It wasn't until I started having really ugly thoughts that I reached out to make sure I was not spending my days alone and possibly become a danger to myself.

But I wasn't alone. I was sent angels in the way of friends to lift me up. People to make me laugh. People to call me and make sure I was okay. People to invite me to come over (and play with their kids). A husband to help me with dinner. Scriptures that fell open to the exact verses I needed.

I was given angels to give me strength to go on. Especially Sunday. I thought Friday was bad--that is until I got to Saturday. Then I thought Saturday was bad. Until I got to Sunday. Sunday was BAD (in the morning). It took every ounce of energy to go to church. To stay at church. To fulfill my calling (nursery). To attend our weekly meeting with bishop... But I did it. I did all those things, and with each thing I did, I felt more brave and more strong, and after church, I felt so much peace. (By the way, our meeting with bishop did not go super well...I didn't address the issues I already had. I just couldn't. It was too raw. I just tried to speak as little as possible. Long story. But anyway, the visit validated my dislike for him. Which I hate saying. But I'm glad I went because I feel validated, and I wouldn't have felt that had I chickened out and not gone in to the meeting.)

I was given strength to make it through Monday. And Tuesday.

I can feel the depression and despair lurking under the surface. I'm allowing myself to acknowledge that they are there (because if I don't acknowledge them, they will fight their way to the top and make sure they are acknowledged--in a very bad way), but I am not allowing them to rule me. I feel fear and anxiety threatening, but I'm not allowing them to dictate me either. I made a list of things that need to get done this week, and I'm slowly working my way down the list. If I need chill time, I have books to read while I curl up and chill. But other than that, I'm hitting my to-do list like a fat kid hits a buffet.

I know God hasn't left me. I've left Him hanging a bit, out of anger and not really knowing what else to do, but I know He hasn't left me. I know He is heartbroken over the situation I'm in. I know He wishes He could change it, but if He did, that would require Him to take away some people's agency, including mine. He is letting me work through this mess and heal, and He is giving me things that will help without taking away anyone's agency.

I know God has given me angels. And strength.

I know there is a purpose to all of this trauma and depression. I'm discovering it little by little.

I know I'm not alone. I'm never alone.

Sometimes it's hard to hold on to those truths. There are definitely things I'm questioning that I thought I would never question. But, the important thing for me is to hold on to what I know. If I can hold on to what I know, no one (ahem...Satan) will wreck me, and I will be okay.

Lots of my fellow warrior sisters had a hard week last week. And are still having a hard week. I'm praying for you multiple times a day. Just so you know.

This song came on my recovery playlist the other day while I was feeling depressed. I felt like it was dedicated to me from God. Now, here's to you:

Bishop-Trauma

I wasn't going to write about this on my blog. But I can't get it out of my mind, and I feel like I need to process it to death. I'm still grieving and feeling traumatized by it.

I asked my bishop for financial help this week. Because I need a counselor. And we can't afford that right now.

I don't like asking people for help. Last year when I wanted to do this intense therapy program for my back, I had to ask my parents for help. And it wasn't easy to ask them. Not easy at all. We are still in debt to them, but we are paying it off.

I don't like being dependent on people. That's why I don't like asking for help. Heck, it's taken me a while to feel comfortable and confident in asking God for help with this addiction trauma stuff. Because I want to be independent and rely on me all the time. Yes, that's pride. I know it and am working through it.

So, knowing that little bit about me, you can see why it might be hard to ask the leader of my local congregation for some help. I was so scared. So afraid. I even told Ben that, and he said, "He is great. It will be fine." So I said a little prayer for comfort, picked up my phone, and called him.

I don't really know how I could have avoided that traumatic situation. I guess my husband could just not be a sex-addict so I wouldn't have to make phone calls like this.

The bishop was well-meaning, I'm sure. But when his initial response was, "Well, we definitely can't help you long-term with that. But we can talk about short term I guess", (I guess?) or when he led with questions like, "Why do you all the sudden need a counselor?" (ahem: a question you should never lead with when you know the woman you are talking to is the wife of a sex addict and just came back from being separated from her husband for two months. Why would I not need a counselor?) and cut me off while I talked about how Betrayal Trauma is like PTSD, I started feeling really small. Then when he asked if I had asked for help from my parents (I'll answer that question, but is it really your business?), we had to get into all my medical issues too (and is that really your business? You don't want to help out financially anyway). And then he wanted to talk about Ben and how he is doing (excuse me? I did not call you to talk about him. I called to talk about me.). So now he knows more about me. I just opened up about problems I  discuss only with those closest to me to this man I barely know. Because I need financial help.

I even told him I was kind of suicidal a few months ago and that I had to reach out to a friend who is a counselor in Arkansas to help me find a counselor and get my feet under me. I told him I have a history of unhealthy thinking patterns. I told him I need help. In my soul, I was pleading. Begging. For some saving grace that would allow me to see a counselor consistently--because the things going on in my brain are not small issues. They need to be addressed.

With every single question or statement he made, I felt a little smaller and a little more hopeless.

By the end of the conversation, he agreed that the church could pay for half of one month, and I was instructed to sign up for the Obamacare stuff to pay for everything else I might need in the future (but I shouldn't need much help in the future because after one month of counseling, I should be solid). Oh, ps, that Obamacare stuff is almost as expensive as a month of counseling. And doesn't cover it. So...

I'm not writing this to call him out. I'm not writing this for pity points. Or financial help. I'm writing this because this is my life. This just happened. And it needs to be heard.

I feel that he did not react appropriately nor offer enough compassion or concern for my situation.
I feel that the leaders of the church, to whom we are instructed to turn in times like this, need way better training than what they are given. Not necessarily for this financial aspect I'm struggling with. But for dealing with a woman in trauma. For dealing with a sex-addict. This whole situation is delicate.

Don't just say, "Thanks for confessing" and send him on his merry way. (That happened.)

Don't tell the wife, "This is very personal and needs to stay between you two. If Ben doesn't feel comfortable with you discussing his issue with anyone, you need to respect that and keep it within the marriage." (Oh, that happened too.)

And when the wife is crying because of her pain and is asking for help so she can see a counselor, don't ask why she needs to see a counselor "all of the sudden." Don't suggest that marital counseling is more important than individual counseling. And certainly don't insinuate that her needs are not worthy of spending church money on, especially when she has been consistently faithful in paying tithing and generous fast offerings. Don't turn the conversation to talk about her husband instead of her. And don't tell her she needs to be on another insurance. Just don't. At the very least, if you have no clue what to say, you could say, "Wow, this sounds like a very painful situation. I will look into the matter and see what my options are for helping you."

I love this church. But the church leaders are human and make mistakes. The unfortunate part is, we are instructed to turn to them so often. They don't know how to handle this situation. They aren't equipped to handle it.

Granted, I've had amazing experiences with church leaders. But the horrible experiences can outweigh the positive at times. And this is one of those. All week, I've had to stop the train of negative thoughts, "Maybe I'm not worthy of help. Maybe I'm blowing the addiction too out of proportion. Maybe I shouldn't need a counselor. I must be crazy. Maybe I should be able to manage it after one month of counseling. Oh my gosh, I can't believe I would sink so low to ask for help. I'm so unfit of help. I'm supposed to be stronger." All of those thoughts are completely untrue. But, that's what was fed to me.

And I'm still feeling traumatized. Three days later.

The good news is that Ben was empathetic. I love it when he gets it. So thanks for that.