When we're in addict mode, there's nothing that's sacred. Anything that promises to fulfill our sexual cravings seems like a good idea. This leads to behavior that is completely insane (which I talk about in this post). For example, in my early teens when I was first exploring pornography and my body, I felt a bit stuck. I didn't have access to actual dirty pictures, and I wasn't about to reach out to get some through someone else (I was very isolated in my addiction). Instead, I would scour seemingly innocuous magazines for an ad with an even slightly immodest woman. I would dig through back issues of National Geographic for images of African tribes whose women don't wear shirts. One day I was feeling the urge for sexual stimulation. I ended up putting smooth rocks from a rock collection down my pants. If this sounds slightly painful and like it was a terrible idea, it was...even my twisted teenage addict brain would agree (I never tried it again). When I told this story to my sponsor we both laughed about it. How desperate I was! How pathetic and willing to do anything! Even rocks and National Geographic were fair game.
In recovery, we need to take the same approach--nothing can be off the table. We need to be desperate for recovery. For the longest time, I wanted my life back, minus the addiction. But the more I learn about recovery, the more I believe that I can't have that same life back. No casual approach will work for me--I can't pick and choose which parts of my unworthiness I keep. No "Heavenly Father, please show thy mercy and take my pornography addiction from me...but you can just leave the neglectful-parenting-because-of-entertainment where it is. Also, if you could just put that sugar addiction down in the corner, I'd appreciate it." In other words:
"If we insist on keeping Hell (or even Earth) we shall not see Heaven: if we accept Heaven we shall not be able to retain even the smallest and most intimate souvenirs of Hell." C.S. Lewis (from The Great Divorce)
What "souvenirs of Hell" do we hold onto? Are there even souvenirs of Earth that we desperately cling to, unwilling to accept they aren't going to have a place in heaven? I don't want to point out specific behaviors that I think are problematic because I think heaven and hell might be similar, just with radically different people/attitudes. In other words, it's possible that both heaven and hell has a skateboard park--in heaven, it is a bright place of social gathering with laughter, challenge, and wonder. In hell, it is a dark place of anger, obscenities, and violence. Similarly, for me, collecting stamps might be productive, fun hobby to pick up. For someone else, collecting stamps might be an obsessive, unhealthy outlet.
Rather than try to pinpoint which activities are worthy or unworthy, let me share the introductory lines from the SA (Sexaholics Anonymous) Step into Action book one:
"Why are you here? If the answer is, 'I can't go on like this and I am willing to do whatever it takes to stop,' then read on."
Then, a few lines down, in a quote from a member:
"The old-timers told me to make sure I really was ready--wishy-washy starts in the SA program just don't cut it. 'If you're not sure, go out and try some more pain,' they said."
I've had enough pain, thank you. If recovery takes giving up all entertainment, sugar, and coin collections, then I'm going to be a screen-less, sugar-less, coin-less recovering addict. Because really, when we get to heaven, will that documentary, that cheesecake, and that rare 1893 penny really matter?
Also, a comic based on this post is coming up.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Pornography's Sales Pitch (Part Two)
(If you haven't read my first post on this topic, here's the link)
Less than a year ago, a study appeared in Socioaffective Neuroscience & Psychology, a respected, peer-reviewed journal. The basic claim of the article was that problems with sexuality stem from high desire, not from a disorder...in other words, that there's no such thing as sexual addictions. The effects of this study were significant--the American Psychological Association referred to it, in part, to justify not including sexual addictions in it's near-universally-used manual of disorders and addictions (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). This means that psychologists, mental health care workers, and anyone else won't find descriptions of sex addiction in the most influential book describing addictive disorders, which DID include newly added sections for gambling disorder and tobacco use disorder. (If you can't tell, I was appalled when I read about all this.)
I don't mention this to rally you behind a petition--I point this out to show how crazy our culture is in how it views pornography and sexual addiction. There is no conceivable study that could dissuade me (and probably everyone reading this) from believing that sexual addiction is a compulsive disorder every bit as destructive and real as those involving gambling or substance abuse. And since I've been talking about pornography as a "product" capable of having its own sales pitch, maybe it would be best to define what kind of a product it is along those lines: as an emotional painkiller.
Addictive substances aren't an end in themselves; sure, someone may like the taste of alcohol or find women attractive, but they also seem to soften the emotional hurt we feel, and deaden our hopelessness. Here's a video I found through Sharing My Recovery that describes this effect very well. The section where he talks about the hole in his life that substances (and by extension pornography, I argue) seems to shrink is :30-1:40, but the whole video is good:
Mark's story paints the whole picture of the real effect of addictive substances, but there are those who don't believe pornography fits into the same category. This hypothetical painkiller (aka pornography), according to many in our culture, is a helpful medicine with minimal side effects capable of helping most people. However, I contend that this painkiller is in fact a highly addictive drug whose effects are paltry and whose side effects are crippling. Even still, Satan is able to mask its devastating effects through half truths, exaggerations, and lies:
The Lie of Absolute Safety
One of the primary justifications people use to make themselves feel better about doing something wrong and harmful is either "It's not hurting anyone" or "Nobody's going to know" (aka, "what people don't know, won't hurt them"). This reasoning is bound to be popular with potential pornography addicts--sexual fulfillment through porn is something that happens in privacy, without any required involvement of anyone else. How could that hurt anyone? The underlying assumption is that the only person involved, the addict, has control over it. It's easy to think, "I won't let it affect anyone else." Of course you love your wife, or family, or boyfriend, or future spouse, and would never let something come between you. But the control is an illusion, and the lack of effects on others is simply impossible. It's only a matter of time until it twists you into the unloving, uncaring, hardened monster you never thought you'd "let it" turn you into.
In addition to the appearance of pornography as a victimless pastime, it also masquerades as a helpful medicine. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, and I was ashamed that I did it anyways. But that feeling of shame only added to numerous other insecurities and to my desire to numb them all. Which pornography did fairly well. I didn't really think about it, but some part of me was confused by the lack of consistency between what I experienced and what I was told about pornography. I was told it was a devastating, addictive terror, but I experienced it as the softest, most appealing thing imaginable. There were no hooks in it, nobody forcing me. How could this be the terrible thing people warned me about? They must be mistaken; I could stop at any time! I didn't realize that it could (and did) change me. I became unable to say no. What seemed like an innocent painkiller turned out to be a poison, slowly rotting me from the inside.
The Lie of No Cost
I know people can spend a lot of money on pornography--the Addo Pornography Addiction assessment questionnaire had this question: "how much money have you spent on pornography in the last year?" The highest option was "$10,000+." Also, at school I read a student essay about how pornography can make you happy (don't even get me started...one of the "joys" of teaching is reading essays you disagree strongly with, yet need to respond to neutrally), yet the author admitted that he had spent so much money on pornography that if he had saved it, he probably could afford the downpayment on a house by now.
That said, I've been deeply entrenched in pornography, yet I've spent a total of $0 on it. And don't be mistaken--that's the costliest $0 I've ever spent. Monetarily, anyone can get plenty of porn for free, especially now with the internet. But whether you spend $0 or $10,000 a year, there is a steep price that has nothing to do with money. It has nothing to do with people catching me either--despite some close calls, I have never been found out. Anyone who has ever known about my addiction is because I told them. Some people would say, "if you haven't spent a penny on it, and you're capable of keeping it a secret indefinitely, how is this costing you anything?"
What are some of these costs? I mention a bunch in this post, but here's another scary estimate: I've spent somewhere between 3,000 and 5,000 hours of my life accessing, trying to access, or thinking about pornography. Wow--can that even be right? It makes me a bit sick to think about.
Is there such a thing as sexual addiction? 3,000 to 5,000 wasted hours of my life says there is. My numerous personality defects, including lack of self control, agree. Not only is pornography use not a victimless activity, but it causes devastation for those predisposed to it, if not everyone it catches. There is a steep, steep cost for its use. It is cunning, with an extremely hard-to-resist sales pitch for those who aren't actively trained to combat it. For those of us who fell for the lies about how innocent pornography is, we now have the responsibility to warn those who don't know how destructive it can be. In a spirit of humble honestly, we need reach out to others after we draw on the research-and-experience-backed resources about the effects of pornography, and our testimonies of the far more valuable offerings of the Lord--the Bread of Life and Living Water. Those are the "products" that are worth having, even if their sale's pitch isn't quite as flashy and appealing.
Less than a year ago, a study appeared in Socioaffective Neuroscience & Psychology, a respected, peer-reviewed journal. The basic claim of the article was that problems with sexuality stem from high desire, not from a disorder...in other words, that there's no such thing as sexual addictions. The effects of this study were significant--the American Psychological Association referred to it, in part, to justify not including sexual addictions in it's near-universally-used manual of disorders and addictions (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). This means that psychologists, mental health care workers, and anyone else won't find descriptions of sex addiction in the most influential book describing addictive disorders, which DID include newly added sections for gambling disorder and tobacco use disorder. (If you can't tell, I was appalled when I read about all this.)
I don't mention this to rally you behind a petition--I point this out to show how crazy our culture is in how it views pornography and sexual addiction. There is no conceivable study that could dissuade me (and probably everyone reading this) from believing that sexual addiction is a compulsive disorder every bit as destructive and real as those involving gambling or substance abuse. And since I've been talking about pornography as a "product" capable of having its own sales pitch, maybe it would be best to define what kind of a product it is along those lines: as an emotional painkiller.
Addictive substances aren't an end in themselves; sure, someone may like the taste of alcohol or find women attractive, but they also seem to soften the emotional hurt we feel, and deaden our hopelessness. Here's a video I found through Sharing My Recovery that describes this effect very well. The section where he talks about the hole in his life that substances (and by extension pornography, I argue) seems to shrink is :30-1:40, but the whole video is good:
Mark's story paints the whole picture of the real effect of addictive substances, but there are those who don't believe pornography fits into the same category. This hypothetical painkiller (aka pornography), according to many in our culture, is a helpful medicine with minimal side effects capable of helping most people. However, I contend that this painkiller is in fact a highly addictive drug whose effects are paltry and whose side effects are crippling. Even still, Satan is able to mask its devastating effects through half truths, exaggerations, and lies:
The Lie of Absolute Safety
One of the primary justifications people use to make themselves feel better about doing something wrong and harmful is either "It's not hurting anyone" or "Nobody's going to know" (aka, "what people don't know, won't hurt them"). This reasoning is bound to be popular with potential pornography addicts--sexual fulfillment through porn is something that happens in privacy, without any required involvement of anyone else. How could that hurt anyone? The underlying assumption is that the only person involved, the addict, has control over it. It's easy to think, "I won't let it affect anyone else." Of course you love your wife, or family, or boyfriend, or future spouse, and would never let something come between you. But the control is an illusion, and the lack of effects on others is simply impossible. It's only a matter of time until it twists you into the unloving, uncaring, hardened monster you never thought you'd "let it" turn you into.
In addition to the appearance of pornography as a victimless pastime, it also masquerades as a helpful medicine. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, and I was ashamed that I did it anyways. But that feeling of shame only added to numerous other insecurities and to my desire to numb them all. Which pornography did fairly well. I didn't really think about it, but some part of me was confused by the lack of consistency between what I experienced and what I was told about pornography. I was told it was a devastating, addictive terror, but I experienced it as the softest, most appealing thing imaginable. There were no hooks in it, nobody forcing me. How could this be the terrible thing people warned me about? They must be mistaken; I could stop at any time! I didn't realize that it could (and did) change me. I became unable to say no. What seemed like an innocent painkiller turned out to be a poison, slowly rotting me from the inside.
The Lie of No Cost
I know people can spend a lot of money on pornography--the Addo Pornography Addiction assessment questionnaire had this question: "how much money have you spent on pornography in the last year?" The highest option was "$10,000+." Also, at school I read a student essay about how pornography can make you happy (don't even get me started...one of the "joys" of teaching is reading essays you disagree strongly with, yet need to respond to neutrally), yet the author admitted that he had spent so much money on pornography that if he had saved it, he probably could afford the downpayment on a house by now.
That said, I've been deeply entrenched in pornography, yet I've spent a total of $0 on it. And don't be mistaken--that's the costliest $0 I've ever spent. Monetarily, anyone can get plenty of porn for free, especially now with the internet. But whether you spend $0 or $10,000 a year, there is a steep price that has nothing to do with money. It has nothing to do with people catching me either--despite some close calls, I have never been found out. Anyone who has ever known about my addiction is because I told them. Some people would say, "if you haven't spent a penny on it, and you're capable of keeping it a secret indefinitely, how is this costing you anything?"
What are some of these costs? I mention a bunch in this post, but here's another scary estimate: I've spent somewhere between 3,000 and 5,000 hours of my life accessing, trying to access, or thinking about pornography. Wow--can that even be right? It makes me a bit sick to think about.
Is there such a thing as sexual addiction? 3,000 to 5,000 wasted hours of my life says there is. My numerous personality defects, including lack of self control, agree. Not only is pornography use not a victimless activity, but it causes devastation for those predisposed to it, if not everyone it catches. There is a steep, steep cost for its use. It is cunning, with an extremely hard-to-resist sales pitch for those who aren't actively trained to combat it. For those of us who fell for the lies about how innocent pornography is, we now have the responsibility to warn those who don't know how destructive it can be. In a spirit of humble honestly, we need reach out to others after we draw on the research-and-experience-backed resources about the effects of pornography, and our testimonies of the far more valuable offerings of the Lord--the Bread of Life and Living Water. Those are the "products" that are worth having, even if their sale's pitch isn't quite as flashy and appealing.
Friday, May 16, 2014
Insanity and Making Calls
When I first started looking at blogs and reading recovery literature, I heard people say that their addiction made them insane. I thought they meant it like "wow, it's crazy how irresponsible and harmful my actions have been." But now I can see how it's not a figure of speech--sex and lust addiction literally causes a form of insanity. Think of Albert Einstein's definition of insanity: "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." There is no time requirements with this definition, but I think 17 years of trying the same things qualifies.
And it's not that I only tried one thing to overcome this addiction...but I only tried things I could do by myself. For example, a number of years ago I had a little handmade book that I would use to keep a weekly schedule. I would have daily goals with little check boxes. At one point, I even had code letters in some of these boxes to indicate whether or not I had been lust-free; I also had a mark that would indicate when I relapsed. It went a little something like this: "Ok. I reached a full 5 days without acting out--next week I'm going to do better. YES! I made it to 6 days this time! Ok, now 4 days. Yes! Back to 5 days again. Ok, now 3. Alright! 7 days, my best yet. Ok, now 1 day. 1 day. 2 days." Continued for years. You'd think that after a few weeks of that I'd realize it doesn't work!
How could I overcome such a difficult problem when my glasses were tinted a very dark shade of crazy? I couldn't. I had to have perspective and clear thinking--both of which I didn't and couldn't have.
That's why it's so important to reach out when I'm wearing those glasses. I recently got a sponsor, and one of the things he recommended was to be in daily contact with guys in the group. I don't really like talking on the phone, so my initial reaction was fear and resistance. He said, though, that being in daily contact, especially when things were going well, would establish a habit of reaching out. That way, when rough days came I'd have a support group I felt comfortable relying on--it would remove the excuse of "I need to reach out, but I don't really know anyone."
I've been amazed what effect calling someone else in the moment of my insanity has on me. The last week I don't feel like I've really been in imminent danger of acting out, but I've definitely been caught in white-knuckling thought loops, with me on the losing side. For example, earlier this week I came home from work tired and ready to stop work for the day. This overwhelmed, checked-out feeling was made worse when I saw how dirty the house was. Part of me wanted to jump up and help my wife with the house and kids, but I couldn't. I sat on the couch in a depressed stupor for a while, looking at something mindless on the internet. I may not be able to force myself to change, but I could, I eventually remembered, reach out to someone.
I decided to call my brother, who shares the addiction but is further along in his recovery. We had a great discussion and I felt much better, even before we were done. I helped put away laundry and even made dinner that night.
I'm trying my hardest to work my recovery, but there are times when I instinctively reach for my glasses tinted ten shades of insanity. When I get in that position my old impulses to fight for my life come back. I'm increasingly convinced that reaching out through the phone when that happens is the only consistent way out of that thinking.
It's not that by calling someone I can cure my insanity. Reaching out requires humility--admitting that I can't see clearly, that I can't do it on my own. It has to start with me, but it isn't me. And it's not that the guys I call cure me of insanity--they point me in the right direction, which is up. The only One who can cure me of insanity is my Heavenly physician. He's the only one who can help me when I call and surrender my desire to be disobedient. And call me crazy, but I think that's a call worth making, no matter how hard it is.
And it's not that I only tried one thing to overcome this addiction...but I only tried things I could do by myself. For example, a number of years ago I had a little handmade book that I would use to keep a weekly schedule. I would have daily goals with little check boxes. At one point, I even had code letters in some of these boxes to indicate whether or not I had been lust-free; I also had a mark that would indicate when I relapsed. It went a little something like this: "Ok. I reached a full 5 days without acting out--next week I'm going to do better. YES! I made it to 6 days this time! Ok, now 4 days. Yes! Back to 5 days again. Ok, now 3. Alright! 7 days, my best yet. Ok, now 1 day. 1 day. 2 days." Continued for years. You'd think that after a few weeks of that I'd realize it doesn't work!
How could I overcome such a difficult problem when my glasses were tinted a very dark shade of crazy? I couldn't. I had to have perspective and clear thinking--both of which I didn't and couldn't have.
That's why it's so important to reach out when I'm wearing those glasses. I recently got a sponsor, and one of the things he recommended was to be in daily contact with guys in the group. I don't really like talking on the phone, so my initial reaction was fear and resistance. He said, though, that being in daily contact, especially when things were going well, would establish a habit of reaching out. That way, when rough days came I'd have a support group I felt comfortable relying on--it would remove the excuse of "I need to reach out, but I don't really know anyone."
I've been amazed what effect calling someone else in the moment of my insanity has on me. The last week I don't feel like I've really been in imminent danger of acting out, but I've definitely been caught in white-knuckling thought loops, with me on the losing side. For example, earlier this week I came home from work tired and ready to stop work for the day. This overwhelmed, checked-out feeling was made worse when I saw how dirty the house was. Part of me wanted to jump up and help my wife with the house and kids, but I couldn't. I sat on the couch in a depressed stupor for a while, looking at something mindless on the internet. I may not be able to force myself to change, but I could, I eventually remembered, reach out to someone.
I decided to call my brother, who shares the addiction but is further along in his recovery. We had a great discussion and I felt much better, even before we were done. I helped put away laundry and even made dinner that night.
I'm trying my hardest to work my recovery, but there are times when I instinctively reach for my glasses tinted ten shades of insanity. When I get in that position my old impulses to fight for my life come back. I'm increasingly convinced that reaching out through the phone when that happens is the only consistent way out of that thinking.
It's not that by calling someone I can cure my insanity. Reaching out requires humility--admitting that I can't see clearly, that I can't do it on my own. It has to start with me, but it isn't me. And it's not that the guys I call cure me of insanity--they point me in the right direction, which is up. The only One who can cure me of insanity is my Heavenly physician. He's the only one who can help me when I call and surrender my desire to be disobedient. And call me crazy, but I think that's a call worth making, no matter how hard it is.
Friday, May 9, 2014
"A Heavy Price" to become "Whiter than Snow"
The story of David is so applicable to addicts it's not even funny. Here are some details I find particularly interesting.
David wasn't doing what he was supposed to be doing when he was tempted by Bath-Sheba. "And it came to pass, after the year was expired, at the time when kings go forth to battle" (2 Samuel 11:1). He was slacking in his duties, and letting his people down. As a result, he didn't have the protection of the spirit. Wow. This describes exactly what I'm going through right now. My biggest struggle right now is getting work for my job done...I'll go on campus to get work done, and it's like I've hit a wall; I just can't force myself to get grading done. Maybe it's fear of not being helpful, or being judged, or making the wrong decision and affecting someone's grade, I don't know. But in any case, after I struggle (if I don't reach out to others like it says in my boundaries) I'm often left vulnerable, more open to wandering eyes and unproductive activities. Luckily not murder yet, though, so I have that going for me.
After David impregnates Bath-Sheba (which means "Daughter of the Covenant," by the way), he seeks desperately to cover his sins. He tries to manipulate Uriah (which means "Jehovah is my Light") into sleeping with his wife so it will look like Uriah impregnated her. I may not be actively manipulating people to cover up my sins--though I've done that plenty in the past--I sense there's still constant struggle against that tendency. A few days ago in recovery group we read this in the SA white book:
Whenever I felt some experience, image, memory, or thought was controlling me, as was often the case, I would bring it to the light, talking it out with another program person. Get the air and sunlight on it. Lust hates the light and flees from it; it loves the dark secret recesses of my being. And once I let it lodge there, it's like a fungus and starts flourishing--the athlete's foot of the soul. (161)
David should have been taking his problem to the light--to Uriah, and to the Lord. Instead he lets it fester. I can't allow to be anything less than valiantly honest about any time I recognize my soul fungus making a resurgence.
After David kills Uriah, is chastised by Nathan, and his son (born of Bath-Sheba) becomes ill, he seems to genuinely be sorrowful: "and David fasted, and went in, and lay all night upon the earth" (2 Samuel 12:16). In the margins I have written "he seems to care so much...why didn't he about Uriah?" Which isn't a very charitable thought...especially since (hypocrite alert) I wasn't completely clean from my own addiction when I wrote it. AND the Bible Dictionary is much more forgiving about his attitude:
Like Saul he was guilty of grave crimes; but unlike Saul, he was capable of true contrition and was therefore able to find forgiveness, except in the murder of Uriah. As a consequence David is still unforgiven, but he received a promise that the Lord would not leave his soul in hell. He will be resurrected at the end of the Millennium. Because of his transgression, he has fallen from his exaltation (D&C 132:39) ...he paid, and is paying, a heavy price for his disobedience to the commandments of God. (654)
David went on to lead Israel in "the nation's golden age." He accomplished some great things, including fathering--through Bath-Sheba--Solomon, without whom we wouldn't haveThe Song of Solomon Proverbs. He was such a model of faith in his youth, but that didn't protect him against lust later on. Still, let was able to feel sorrow and repent, even if he wasn't restored to his full blessings. Let me end with some verses which describe how he feels after Nathan told him how displeased the Lord was with him for his actions. (This is from Psalms 51):
Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned...Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow...Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from they presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me.
My sin feels constantly before me, but I know I can be whiter than snow if I bring my dark tendencies into the light through honest accountability. Like David I can repent and become purified, but I acknowledge that there is a heavy price for my disobedience.
David wasn't doing what he was supposed to be doing when he was tempted by Bath-Sheba. "And it came to pass, after the year was expired, at the time when kings go forth to battle" (2 Samuel 11:1). He was slacking in his duties, and letting his people down. As a result, he didn't have the protection of the spirit. Wow. This describes exactly what I'm going through right now. My biggest struggle right now is getting work for my job done...I'll go on campus to get work done, and it's like I've hit a wall; I just can't force myself to get grading done. Maybe it's fear of not being helpful, or being judged, or making the wrong decision and affecting someone's grade, I don't know. But in any case, after I struggle (if I don't reach out to others like it says in my boundaries) I'm often left vulnerable, more open to wandering eyes and unproductive activities. Luckily not murder yet, though, so I have that going for me.
After David impregnates Bath-Sheba (which means "Daughter of the Covenant," by the way), he seeks desperately to cover his sins. He tries to manipulate Uriah (which means "Jehovah is my Light") into sleeping with his wife so it will look like Uriah impregnated her. I may not be actively manipulating people to cover up my sins--though I've done that plenty in the past--I sense there's still constant struggle against that tendency. A few days ago in recovery group we read this in the SA white book:
Whenever I felt some experience, image, memory, or thought was controlling me, as was often the case, I would bring it to the light, talking it out with another program person. Get the air and sunlight on it. Lust hates the light and flees from it; it loves the dark secret recesses of my being. And once I let it lodge there, it's like a fungus and starts flourishing--the athlete's foot of the soul. (161)
David should have been taking his problem to the light--to Uriah, and to the Lord. Instead he lets it fester. I can't allow to be anything less than valiantly honest about any time I recognize my soul fungus making a resurgence.
After David kills Uriah, is chastised by Nathan, and his son (born of Bath-Sheba) becomes ill, he seems to genuinely be sorrowful: "and David fasted, and went in, and lay all night upon the earth" (2 Samuel 12:16). In the margins I have written "he seems to care so much...why didn't he about Uriah?" Which isn't a very charitable thought...especially since (hypocrite alert) I wasn't completely clean from my own addiction when I wrote it. AND the Bible Dictionary is much more forgiving about his attitude:
Like Saul he was guilty of grave crimes; but unlike Saul, he was capable of true contrition and was therefore able to find forgiveness, except in the murder of Uriah. As a consequence David is still unforgiven, but he received a promise that the Lord would not leave his soul in hell. He will be resurrected at the end of the Millennium. Because of his transgression, he has fallen from his exaltation (D&C 132:39) ...he paid, and is paying, a heavy price for his disobedience to the commandments of God. (654)
David went on to lead Israel in "the nation's golden age." He accomplished some great things, including fathering--through Bath-Sheba--Solomon, without whom we wouldn't have
Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned...Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow...Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from they presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me.
My sin feels constantly before me, but I know I can be whiter than snow if I bring my dark tendencies into the light through honest accountability. Like David I can repent and become purified, but I acknowledge that there is a heavy price for my disobedience.
Friday, May 2, 2014
The Addict's Round Table
Ok, a silly mini post here. Terrible artwork ahead! You have been warned.
This morning Ben from Let Him Heal Your Heart made a great post about excuses. In it, he made a comment about...well, let me quote it: "There’s the specific [excuses], and then there’s the vague ones (and boy do we love vague! Vagueness is one of the knights that sits at the addict’s round table)."
Not only do I really agree with the comment, but I also loved the imagery. It got me wondering, what other knights would be at the addict's round table? Here's what I came up with in a break (in which I probably would have been wasting time doing something less active, so thanks again, Ben):
Sorry for the small size...it was either that or way too big.
Here's some commentary about the knights (from left to right), since I'm self conscious about my artwork and I think some of my reasoning behind it might not be clear. I have reasoning behind why I chose each of them, but I don't really want to make a full post about it, so here are pretty limited comments:
Sir Forgetful (Probably should have been "Sir Slacker"): I wasn't satisfied with his jaw, so I changed it. Then he looked like he had a bloody neck, so I gave him a beard. He's asleep, not dead, I promise!
Sir Vagueness: I know there weren't hoodies in medieval times...but he looked like an ewok or a creepy monk in just a robe. Also, I kind of like the idea of him being too laid-back.
Sir Defensiveness: I wanted him to be ridiculously pointy and barbed, to the point where it probably hurts himself.
Sir Recovery: This might be taking this a bit too far, but I thought it would be funny if there was a Sir Recovery, who was bigger, stronger, and more capable than any of the other knights; BUT, he wouldn't be clamoring to help like the other knights. It seems like recovery is the only sure way to take care of the communication/lust problems, but you have to go to it...past other methods that are more willing to volunteer.
Sir Pitiful: That's a blanket that he has wrapped around him.
Sir Acerbic: I couldn't think of a better name (anyone help?), but I wanted him to be vicious and grouchy looking. That's how I feel sometime.
Sir Procrastinate: I don't know if it makes sense that he's not even there...but whatever.
Also, the "Who shall I send to take care of my problem" text is from the addict.
This morning Ben from Let Him Heal Your Heart made a great post about excuses. In it, he made a comment about...well, let me quote it: "There’s the specific [excuses], and then there’s the vague ones (and boy do we love vague! Vagueness is one of the knights that sits at the addict’s round table)."
Not only do I really agree with the comment, but I also loved the imagery. It got me wondering, what other knights would be at the addict's round table? Here's what I came up with in a break (in which I probably would have been wasting time doing something less active, so thanks again, Ben):
Sorry for the small size...it was either that or way too big.
Here's some commentary about the knights (from left to right), since I'm self conscious about my artwork and I think some of my reasoning behind it might not be clear. I have reasoning behind why I chose each of them, but I don't really want to make a full post about it, so here are pretty limited comments:
Sir Forgetful (Probably should have been "Sir Slacker"): I wasn't satisfied with his jaw, so I changed it. Then he looked like he had a bloody neck, so I gave him a beard. He's asleep, not dead, I promise!
Sir Vagueness: I know there weren't hoodies in medieval times...but he looked like an ewok or a creepy monk in just a robe. Also, I kind of like the idea of him being too laid-back.
Sir Defensiveness: I wanted him to be ridiculously pointy and barbed, to the point where it probably hurts himself.
Sir Recovery: This might be taking this a bit too far, but I thought it would be funny if there was a Sir Recovery, who was bigger, stronger, and more capable than any of the other knights; BUT, he wouldn't be clamoring to help like the other knights. It seems like recovery is the only sure way to take care of the communication/lust problems, but you have to go to it...past other methods that are more willing to volunteer.
Sir Pitiful: That's a blanket that he has wrapped around him.
Sir Acerbic: I couldn't think of a better name (anyone help?), but I wanted him to be vicious and grouchy looking. That's how I feel sometime.
Sir Procrastinate: I don't know if it makes sense that he's not even there...but whatever.
Also, the "Who shall I send to take care of my problem" text is from the addict.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Update Post: My Fears and Faith
I mentioned about a month ago that I occasionally wanted to have posts that update where I'm at in my recovery. This is one of those. (Sales Pitch post #2 coming up.)
And I'm in a bit of a weird place, for a variety of reasons:
1) Last month I was accepted to a PhD program--I spent a day touring it a few weeks ago and was impressed. There were financial concerns, though, so I had to turn them down.
2) My family and I would normally be moving to Wyoming in a few weeks to start the summer job I've been doing for the last seven years. We had family concerns, though, so we're going to stay here and I'm going to be making much less money (but not nothing!).
3) I've been working a lot, since we're approaching the end of the semester. I'm going to be spending more time at school, and I won't be able to be home with my family.
So I reject schooling for money reasons, and I reject money for family reasons, then I reject family for school reasons (kinda). I know it's not, but I kind of feel like my life is collapsing under its own weight. :)
Not to mention that I'm approaching three months since my second big confession to my wife (see my origin story for the details). Apparently, I have been stuck in this addiction for so long that I didn't know what to expect when I stopped. I assumed everything would get better once I got sober and started making big changes. I was surprised to find out that life is still difficult, even without an addiction tripping me every time I try to get up. If anything, life seems more difficult now--I've never been so overwhelmed and frustrated...then hopeful and confident in so short a time. I'm still trying to figure out how to sidestep the frustration and to bottle the hopefulness, so let me write a bit about my fears and faith. (I use "faith" here in the way that's more synonymous with "hope"/"belief," not the faith that's synonymous with "testimony.")
...of pain not going away: On a similar note, this fear is basically goes against step three (trusting in God). Sure, the extreme discomfort of withdrawals became much less after the first month, but I still struggle with other unhealthy lifestyle choices that I'm having a harder time changing. My safety blankets include watching movies, playing video games, and eating ice-cream or drinking chocolate milk every night. Will life even be worth living without these creature comforts? Here's a quote that addresses this concern from C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce:
"any man who reaches Heaven will find that what he abandoned (even in plucking out his right eye) has not been lost: that the kernel of what he was really seeking even in his most depraved wishes will be there, beyond expectation, waiting for him"
I imagine some dude on a couch asking, "but will they have ESPN in heaven?" or even, "will they have a six-pack of beer and ESPN in heaven?" Whatever satisfaction we think we have in our safety blankets, whatever we think we're giving up when we choose to follow God, I'm comforted to know we will get more in return. And it's not a 24-pack of beer that we'll get--or want--but something infinitely more satisfying.
...that my marriage will never be strong: Over the last few months my wife and I have had arguments--one that we didn't resolve before going to bed, and two that we did. And then there was last night that she may not have even known that I went to bed angry at her until I sent her an email sharing my feelings early this morning. Sigh. I know it was part of satan's plan to set me up for failure, but I believed that once I was sober and progressively victorious over lust that my work, marriage, and parenting would miraculously and instantaneously improve. When they didn't, I begin to question whether they can, but I refuse to believe that all-or-nothing mentality! I can't see the healing taking place right now, but I trust that it's happening anyways.
...that I can change my habits and motivation: On a similar note, I've been struggling with how I deal with feelings of being overwhelmed and inadequate. In the past, when I'd come home feeling frustrated, or I'd be tired of working and want to numb those emotions...or "reward myself for working hard," as I'd tell myself. I'd watch YouTube videos or Netflix shows or play video games until I felt compelled to do something else. It always felt like the sole reason for me doing what I was supposed to be doing--parenting, spending time with my wife, projects for work--was to reward myself with screen time activities. It was my main motivation.
Recently, I've gotten a different feel for how life can be. I've outlawed all those safety blankets, and I've found myself, occasionally, willingly practicing the piano. Or doing artwork (like the "Satan--Try Pornography" poster in the last post), or writing creative fiction with my wife, or exercising. I've done it without using it as motivation to eat ice-cream at night or watch shows. It's felt awesome, as if it's a reward in itself.
...that I can patiently work my recovery: I always thought I was a patient person, but I'm starting to feel I was mistaken. Still, there have been moments where I've resisted the urge to settle for the less-than-ideal option. For example, one of the biggest things I've struggled with recently has been my agreement with my wife that we'd go three months without any sexual intimacy. It's been a struggle to foster healthy physical intimacy without continuing on to the sexual, but I know I can be patient in that aspect of my recovery.
Also, I've really enjoyed using this blog as a recovery journal/place to explore ideas about recovery. There have been times, though, when I've just wanted to post an idea that wasn't really true or interesting or fully formed. Especially recently, for some reason. In the last week and a half I have finished a post but decided not to post it, and rewritten a post about four times (the Sales Pitch part one). It's nice to know I can still diligently try to figure things out, and not settle.
I still have fears. They're not going to go away just because I've made some good choices and avoided making bad choices for a few months. I'm confident, though, that my fears are founded on lies from below, and my hopes are founded on truth from above. Only staying in recovery for the long-term will tell if I'm right.
P.S. I'm tweaking my boundaries. Here are the boundaries that I've changed (one, two, and five are still there! I just didn't change them at all):
Boundary #3: I will avoid working in a public place that has proven itself to be triggering and high traffic. In the _____ Library, I will sit in the upstairs bench, then (if that's busy) the upstairs tables, then the downstairs carrel desks, then the public area. On ____ campus, I'll work on the fourth floor of the ___ building. On ____ campus, I'll work in the library. Discuss with my wife if anything is a problem.
Boundary #4: I will not work on recovery material or read recovery blogs for so long that I feel guilty. If I know I should be using my time to work on grading/school work and am unable to, I will text or call my wife, my brother, or someone in my recovery group that I can talk about it with. If I don't work or call someone, I'll discuss it with my wife, making it a built-in part of our nightly check-ins.
Boundary #6: I will not initiate sexual intimacy with my wife without her feeling safe and affectionate. Until our three months is up in a few weeks (writing this 5/1/14), this means nothing even close to sexual. When I do initiate physical intimacy, it will be verbally clarified, with specifics, clear expectations, and time limits: "hey *honey-lovey-dovey, may I cuddle/make out with you for ten minutes if I promise that it won't lead to anything else and will be an end in itself?" If I find myself not holding to the above, I'll bring it up in our nightly check-in so we can discuss our feelings.
*My wife and I don't use nick-names at all, so this was a joke. Maybe it went a bit too far, since she said it "made her cringe" when she read it.
Boundary #7: I will attend as many recovery meetings as it takes to feel actively in recovery the whole week long. What this looks like now (5/1/14) isthe Tuesday night ARP meeting, the Wednesday night SA meeting, and the Saturday morning SA meeting. If I find myself debating whether or not to attend a meeting, I will call my wife, brother, or someone in my recovery group to ask their opinion.
And I'm in a bit of a weird place, for a variety of reasons:
1) Last month I was accepted to a PhD program--I spent a day touring it a few weeks ago and was impressed. There were financial concerns, though, so I had to turn them down.
2) My family and I would normally be moving to Wyoming in a few weeks to start the summer job I've been doing for the last seven years. We had family concerns, though, so we're going to stay here and I'm going to be making much less money (but not nothing!).
3) I've been working a lot, since we're approaching the end of the semester. I'm going to be spending more time at school, and I won't be able to be home with my family.
So I reject schooling for money reasons, and I reject money for family reasons, then I reject family for school reasons (kinda). I know it's not, but I kind of feel like my life is collapsing under its own weight. :)
Not to mention that I'm approaching three months since my second big confession to my wife (see my origin story for the details). Apparently, I have been stuck in this addiction for so long that I didn't know what to expect when I stopped. I assumed everything would get better once I got sober and started making big changes. I was surprised to find out that life is still difficult, even without an addiction tripping me every time I try to get up. If anything, life seems more difficult now--I've never been so overwhelmed and frustrated...then hopeful and confident in so short a time. I'm still trying to figure out how to sidestep the frustration and to bottle the hopefulness, so let me write a bit about my fears and faith. (I use "faith" here in the way that's more synonymous with "hope"/"belief," not the faith that's synonymous with "testimony.")
Fear
...that my recovery program isn't good enough: This week three guys in my recovery meetings relapsed. They were further along in their recovery than me and I have a lot of respect for them. But it kind of makes me think, if these guys, who seem like they were so much more spiritual and knowledgeable than me, could fall, what hope do I have in not relapsing? Part of this fear I think is appropriate. If I'm complacent or overconfident, there's no question--I'm going to relapse. This fear can be taken too far though, especially since it's basically step two in disguise...doubting that I even can recover....of pain not going away: On a similar note, this fear is basically goes against step three (trusting in God). Sure, the extreme discomfort of withdrawals became much less after the first month, but I still struggle with other unhealthy lifestyle choices that I'm having a harder time changing. My safety blankets include watching movies, playing video games, and eating ice-cream or drinking chocolate milk every night. Will life even be worth living without these creature comforts? Here's a quote that addresses this concern from C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce:
"any man who reaches Heaven will find that what he abandoned (even in plucking out his right eye) has not been lost: that the kernel of what he was really seeking even in his most depraved wishes will be there, beyond expectation, waiting for him"
I imagine some dude on a couch asking, "but will they have ESPN in heaven?" or even, "will they have a six-pack of beer and ESPN in heaven?" Whatever satisfaction we think we have in our safety blankets, whatever we think we're giving up when we choose to follow God, I'm comforted to know we will get more in return. And it's not a 24-pack of beer that we'll get--or want--but something infinitely more satisfying.
...that my marriage will never be strong: Over the last few months my wife and I have had arguments--one that we didn't resolve before going to bed, and two that we did. And then there was last night that she may not have even known that I went to bed angry at her until I sent her an email sharing my feelings early this morning. Sigh. I know it was part of satan's plan to set me up for failure, but I believed that once I was sober and progressively victorious over lust that my work, marriage, and parenting would miraculously and instantaneously improve. When they didn't, I begin to question whether they can, but I refuse to believe that all-or-nothing mentality! I can't see the healing taking place right now, but I trust that it's happening anyways.
Faith
...that I can change my desires: If I didn't believe that I could change the things I want, I don't know if I could stick with recovery. If I didn't think that I could get to a point where I genuinely want to use my free time in productive activities, or where I don't want to keep lusting after every attractive woman I see, I might just throw in the towel. But I believe that, spiritually, we are what we eat--and I've been feeding myself on a diet of self-indulgence and lustfulness for many years. However, I believe it doesn't have to be that way. I can overcome that part of myself if I feed myself on the fruits of spirit experiences, the vegetables of uplifting human interaction, the soy-infused garden-vegetable salad of meaningful service willingly rendered, and the...ok, I'll stop that analogy right now. You get the point. I'm confident that with a new "diet" and on a timescale of years rather than days (or months), my desires can change....that I can change my habits and motivation: On a similar note, I've been struggling with how I deal with feelings of being overwhelmed and inadequate. In the past, when I'd come home feeling frustrated, or I'd be tired of working and want to numb those emotions...or "reward myself for working hard," as I'd tell myself. I'd watch YouTube videos or Netflix shows or play video games until I felt compelled to do something else. It always felt like the sole reason for me doing what I was supposed to be doing--parenting, spending time with my wife, projects for work--was to reward myself with screen time activities. It was my main motivation.
Recently, I've gotten a different feel for how life can be. I've outlawed all those safety blankets, and I've found myself, occasionally, willingly practicing the piano. Or doing artwork (like the "Satan--Try Pornography" poster in the last post), or writing creative fiction with my wife, or exercising. I've done it without using it as motivation to eat ice-cream at night or watch shows. It's felt awesome, as if it's a reward in itself.
...that I can patiently work my recovery: I always thought I was a patient person, but I'm starting to feel I was mistaken. Still, there have been moments where I've resisted the urge to settle for the less-than-ideal option. For example, one of the biggest things I've struggled with recently has been my agreement with my wife that we'd go three months without any sexual intimacy. It's been a struggle to foster healthy physical intimacy without continuing on to the sexual, but I know I can be patient in that aspect of my recovery.
Also, I've really enjoyed using this blog as a recovery journal/place to explore ideas about recovery. There have been times, though, when I've just wanted to post an idea that wasn't really true or interesting or fully formed. Especially recently, for some reason. In the last week and a half I have finished a post but decided not to post it, and rewritten a post about four times (the Sales Pitch part one). It's nice to know I can still diligently try to figure things out, and not settle.
I still have fears. They're not going to go away just because I've made some good choices and avoided making bad choices for a few months. I'm confident, though, that my fears are founded on lies from below, and my hopes are founded on truth from above. Only staying in recovery for the long-term will tell if I'm right.
P.S. I'm tweaking my boundaries. Here are the boundaries that I've changed (one, two, and five are still there! I just didn't change them at all):
Boundary #3: I will avoid working in a public place that has proven itself to be triggering and high traffic. In the _____ Library, I will sit in the upstairs bench, then (if that's busy) the upstairs tables, then the downstairs carrel desks, then the public area. On ____ campus, I'll work on the fourth floor of the ___ building. On ____ campus, I'll work in the library. Discuss with my wife if anything is a problem.
Boundary #4: I will not work on recovery material or read recovery blogs for so long that I feel guilty. If I know I should be using my time to work on grading/school work and am unable to, I will text or call my wife, my brother, or someone in my recovery group that I can talk about it with. If I don't work or call someone, I'll discuss it with my wife, making it a built-in part of our nightly check-ins.
Boundary #6: I will not initiate sexual intimacy with my wife without her feeling safe and affectionate. Until our three months is up in a few weeks (writing this 5/1/14), this means nothing even close to sexual. When I do initiate physical intimacy, it will be verbally clarified, with specifics, clear expectations, and time limits: "hey *honey-lovey-dovey, may I cuddle/make out with you for ten minutes if I promise that it won't lead to anything else and will be an end in itself?" If I find myself not holding to the above, I'll bring it up in our nightly check-in so we can discuss our feelings.
*My wife and I don't use nick-names at all, so this was a joke. Maybe it went a bit too far, since she said it "made her cringe" when she read it.
Boundary #7: I will attend as many recovery meetings as it takes to feel actively in recovery the whole week long. What this looks like now (5/1/14) is
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