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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