Sunday, July 27, 2014

Making my Desires into my Allies

A while ago my wife had an interesting conversation at a recovery group meeting. After she mentioned that I'd been sober for (at the time) about four months, the woman she was talking to said that was usually the amount of time it took her husband to relapse.

I don't know if that's a universal thing, but I sense I've started to plateau in my recovery a little bit. It's not just the slowing down in my posting to this blog (though I've started three posts since my last post--one about a story in the D&C, one about video game addiction, and one about general conference talks). It's also probably in part due to outside influences making my life crazy: we're moving in less than a month, we're in the process of buying a house to move into, I'm finishing up this semester of teaching, and I'm preparing to teach two new classes/take three classes in my PhD program next semester. And then there's the usual insanity that involves having four boys.

But, more importantly, I've become lax in certain areas of my recovery. I've let other interests, including video games, crowd out the actions that lead me to feel like I'm making progress in recovering myself. I want recovery. I know trying to escape my stresses and insecurities with video games and drown them with ice cream isn't going to work. But at the end of a long day after the kids go down to sleep, I'm having a hard time making that acknowledgement part of my daily routine.

It all comes down to what I desire. Here's an amazing quote from Neil A. Maxwell, in a talk from this last conference by Randall L. Ridd:

"What we insistently desire, over time, is what we will eventually become and what we will receive in eternity. ... Only by educating and training our desires can they become our allies instead of our enemies!" Ensign Nov. 1996

I do want recovery, but do I want it enough to "educate and train my desires" away from the path of least resistance and towards the path of recovery? If so, I know what I will become and where I will end up. I sense there's a long-term video game ban in my near future, but I'm going to give it a week to see. Instead, I'm going to do something that I think will help me be more in tune with my desires and where my heart is.

In a recovery meeting a week and a half ago, I felt an amazing outpouring of love and the spirit. It was an amazing experience. Afterwards I called my brother (who's further along in his recovery than I am) to share some ideas and excitement about it. One of the things he mentioned was how much journal writing has helped him. We talked about using the journal to better understand our thinking, and not just a place to record what's happened (something I've done in the past).

This week I'm going to explore where my heart is in my journal every night right after the kids go down. Because right now, my desires are working against my long-term well being, and to successfully be in recovery I need my desires to work for me.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Coming Back to Life

I met with my sponsor earlier this week to go over my addiction inventory, which I decided I'm going to share with my SA group in two weeks. It was great to get some feedback and perspective on it, but the part I really enjoyed was chatting with him for a few minutes afterwards. I have a lot of respect for him--I'd tell you about his recovery from low-bottom drinking/sex addiction, but just trust me that it's amazing. It's really a miracle that 1) he's alive at all and 2) he has been sober for multiple years. Anyway, the thing he said that really stood out to me was how he talked about hobbies in recovery. It came about because I asked about his singing, which it turns out he does at a professional level. I asked if he'd been singing for long, but apparently he only started about 10 years ago (he's in his 50s). For decades he wanted to pursue singing as a hobby or career, but had never managed to. This goes along with another story I heard last night in SA group from a man who's been sober for about 6 years who talked about how he's started doing woodworking and fishing, both of which he gave up a long time ago.

One of the many side effects of sex addiction is that it seems to crush the creativity and motivation out of those caught in it. The way my sponsor described it was that we all have God-given drives for creativity and imagination, but addiction has a way of luring you inward and focusing you on yourself to the point where you're unable to receive motivation and light from God. On the other hand, one of the aftereffects of drying out from the addiction is that life returns to these starved, dormant desires to create.

This is incredibly encouraging to me.

I've tried for years to force myself to pursue creative outlets, every time falling flat on my face. For example, six or seven years ago I had an idea for a children's book that I was going to illustrate myself. It was going to be a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood where she (in her bright red hoodie) goes around terrorizing the forest creatures by jumping on them. The climax comes when her trap backfires and an elderly wolf falls on her, hurting his back and immobilizing them both until a passing lumberjack frees them. Anyway, I had the whole thing story-boarded with text and rough character sketches, then...nothing.

An illustration from my adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood. That's a baby owl in the upper left; also, the scan faintly shows the dialogue/text written on the other side of the page.

Another example: about four years ago I had an idea for a science fiction novel. I was quite proud of the premise; I worked on the setting, characters, and plot quite a bit. I had created quite a history and ideas for how everything worked. I even wrote short stories based on it and three or four drafts of the first chapter--over 20,000 words worth. And...nothing.

Concept art for my sci-fi novel (the one on the left is a spaceship)

Both of these projects are still there, and I still want to work on them. For the longest time I had excuses that explained why I couldn't: my work took up too much time, my family took up my energy, I needed time to rest, etc. Now I realize the only reason I haven't finished them--whether or not they end up being worth sharing with anyone else--is because I have been hunched over, desperately clenching my addiction like it were a life preserver in a violent storm. My muscles were clamped in this death-grip for so long that they started to atrophy. The sad thing is that this "life preserver" isn't buoyant. It makes the storm infinitely worse, drowning everything I wanted to become.

For the longest time I've been angry that I can't make myself work on these and other projects. I decided I must not be the creative type--maybe I'm only good for watching tv and playing video games. I also concluded that this must just be the nature of life. Both of these conclusions built resentments against family, work, and God. And how did I deal with them? Yep--more acting out and trying to forget that I even wanted to do those things in the first place.

As I was talking with my sponsor another thought occurred to me. Every desire we have is originally from God. We want to eat, interact with others, sleep, have sexual relations, etc. These desires are part of what God made us to be. The Adversary corrupts and twists these into addictions--we want to eat two boxes of Twinkies, exploit others for sexual or financial profit, etc. Part of our challenge in this life is to find and use these impulses in the way God originally intended us to. So my impulse to obsessively play video games may be corrupted, but somehow I can find a way to meet that impulse in a healthy way. That might mean not playing video games, but if I can find a way to feel fulfilled in that desire, I won't want to anyways. I'm convinced that the key to a happy and fulfilling existence in this life is to be able to differentiate between Godly and corrupted desires and choose the original, the pure, the uplifting.

Now I realize that around the corner, if I'm diligent in my recovery, is the resurrection of these creative impulses which will strengthen me, those around me, and my relationship with God. And it won't be me futilely trying to force life into something dead and shriveled; rather, it will be God breathing life into me, reinvigorating parts of me I had left for dead long ago.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Comments on Comments

I first started teaching online classes about a year and a half ago, and I was skeptical. At one point I had a student remark how much he liked it and learned in it...and I was honestly surprised. Not because I lacked confidence in my material or teaching style, but just because I didn't have any face-to-face interaction with him and didn't see his learning taking place. I was similarly blown away when another online student, who later took an in-person class from me, stated he preferred online classes in general.

There's something about interacting online that I have a hard time wrapping my head around. I was highly resistant to Facebook for a long time for this same reason--I didn't really believe that relationships could be strengthened through any online tools. The fact that learning and bonding happen through a screen and keyboard still kind of boggles my mind.

It does happen, though. It's why I still teach online classes, participate in Facebook, and, to a degree, why I write on this blog. Based on a number of headings of blogs attached to the LDS Addiction Recovery Blog site, I believe there are many people who also write in their blogs to teach, learn from, and connect with others in a strictly online setting.

Still, online interactions aren't all made equal. I've come to believe that one of the best ways to strengthen each other and ourselves online is to leave sincere, thoughtful comments. In this post I'll talk about commenting as an act of faith and service, as an investment in a community, and as an act of critical analysis.

An Act of Faith and Service

When I think back on my prayer relationship with Heavenly Father, there are times it's been pretty shabby. It wasn't for a lack of trying--I'd pray "Lord, you know my heart. My life isn't where it should be, but I honestly want to follow you and do your will. Please help me resist the temptations I will encounter tomorrow." Why didn't Heavenly Father help me? I was being honest...mostly. The only problem is that I didn't want to follow Him if it meant I had to change my behavior. The next day I would keep the same secrets and try to combat the temptations the same way I'd been trying, hoping that Heavenly Father would cure me on my terms (no wonder I couldn't sustain nightly prayers with such a prideful attitude).  Recovery from addiction doesn't work like that! There has to be acts accompanying words. I've come to realize that even confessing and forsaking my sins once isn't enough to qualify for daily protection from Heavenly Father. There must be daily acts of faith to show I mean business.

For example, this week I was grading an essay about welding which unexpectedly had an image of a woman (using a plasma cutter) with a low shirt and a short skirt. I didn't go looking for this picture, and I didn't want the mental tornadoes it caused. I prayed for help, but I was still caught in obsessive thinking. I prayed again. Why didn't Heavenly Father take these thoughts from me? Fed up with it, I decided to reach out. I called a guy in my recovery group. He didn't even answer, but immediately my thoughts calmed and I was able to get back to grading. I can see Heavenly Father waiting patiently to bless me the second I stepped out of my comfort zone. I need to show an act of faith first, though.

Online comments can fill this role. Sometimes after reading a blog post I have a comment come to mind that I want to share. Most of the time, though, I have to really dig if I want to say something meaningful. It makes me anxious: could they be offended? Is this even helpful? Is this honest? At times I spend longer thinking of a two sentence comment than I spent reading the post. I believe it's time well spent, though; not only am I potentially helping someone else, but I'm also showing Heavenly Father that I'm willing to serve others and qualify for blessings.

An Investment in a Community

There's an allegory (by Rabbi Haim of Romshishok) of a man who toured both heaven and hell that goes something like this: The angel first took him to hell--all around he saw the most delicious foods: steaks, cheesecakes, crisp salad mixes, root beer floats, asparagus (so sue me--I like asparagus), ice cream, funeral potatoes, creme brûlée, etc. The people were looking longingly at the foods, but the food was kept in containers which kept the inhabitants from eating any of it. However, all the people had spoons tied to their hands. The spoons could fit into the containers, and the people tried ceaselessly to get the food into their mouths. The only problem was that the handles of the spoons were too long, and, no matter how people bent, twisted, and contorted themselves, the delicious food was always just out of their reach.



The man commented to the angel how terrible and tortuous a place hell was. The angel smiled as he took the man to heaven. The room was exactly the same. There were the same containers, the same food, and the same ridiculously long spoons attached to everyone's hands. The man was confused. He told the angel he must have made a mistake and taken him to the wrong place. The angel pointed to the people and told him to watch. Indeed, a glance showed that these people were not the frustrated, tortured wretches like in hell. They were happy, smiling, and laughing. The man was confused until he saw the difference. No one could feed themselves, but in heaven they all took turns feeding each other.



The people in hell were so busy trying to feed themselves that it never occurred to them to help others.

In this story, heaven and hell were exactly the same. The only difference was that the self-centered obsession of those in hell made their lives a torture, while the selfless pursuit of others' wellbeing of those in heaven made their lives a chance to connect. I believe comments are like the food in the analogy: we can pursue them selfishly, only concerned with what we get (think of the stereotypical Facebook narcissist), or we can show our faith and concern for others by giving selflessly. What becomes of the community--whether or not it becomes a place where people help and comfort each other--depends on how we treat our fellow blog posters...and our comments are a great indicator of how we're doing.

An Act of Critical Analysis

Thinking or talking about an idea can be great, but one of the things I love about writing is how it can revolutionize the way you think about things in a way no other medium can. Anyone who's ever had to write a talk knows that putting your thoughts on paper is a demanding and difficult task. Addressing a single audience member--writing a comment--in a helpful and sincere way can be even harder, but in the end I believe it can result in an even greater understanding of the topic. Comments can be a chance to learn from others' experience and insights.

Now might be a good time to break down what I mean when I say "comment" on a blog post. I argue that there are certain moves you can make, each with their inherent benefits and challenges. I believe the more potentially beneficial the commenting technique, the more dangers there are involved as well. I list them here from "safe" to "dangerous":


Technique
Potential Benefits
Potential Challenges
Thanking for the post (or idea, or them).
They feel appreciated and recognized.
They may question your motives.
Affirming their approach or idea.
They feel validated and useful.
It may come across as forced or insincere.
Sharing a similar experience.
They feel connected and less alone.
They feel “one-uped” or misunderstood.
Asking for clarification or additional info.
They feel that someone cares about them, their thoughts, and/or their situation.
Could be seen as an invasion of privacy or evidence their post was poorly worded.
Sharing thoughts about the topic / extending the idea.
They feel someone understands and cares, and they learn something new.
Could be interpreted as criticism/ could cause feelings of inadequacy.
Giving direct advice.
They feel cared about and they learn something directly applicable.
They feel preached to, judged, or inadequate (or that you think they are inadequate).
Correcting or questioning an idea.
They think more deeply about the topic and learn something. They feel an increase of respect and understanding.
They feel preached at, judged, criticized, or misunderstood.


The difference between a comment that nails the benefits and a comment that stumbles over the challenges may not be very much. Still, the spirit it's written in can make all the difference. In my experience, when I write a comment from a place of irritation or lecturing, it's always going to backfire. When I feel the spirit when I'm writing it, it's worth pushing "submit." I always tell my students to use the "hug/slap/hug" method of giving feedback--bookending criticism in praise, or at least giving twice as much positive feedback as negative.

I suppose I could have written another post or at least a section about reading comments, but let me adapt the Ralph Waldo Emerson quote in my side bar to apply to comments: "[Comments], though foolishly [written], may be wisely [read]." In other words, even poorly written comments have things of value in them for the wise recipient. However, there's no question it's hard to say, "I'm going to take the good in your words and discard the possibly spiteful, judgmental, or misinformed." An example of this is a recent post on A Wife Redeemed. Shay was obviously hurt by the comment (which I felt clearly fit into the "challenges" category of "direct advice" and "correcting or questioning an idea"), but she still addressed a legitimate part of the comment. 

I challenge everyone--including myself--to make more comments, especially comments that build up, inspire, and enlighten. When a more in-depth "higher level" comment isn't possible, at least we should make a gratitude, affirming, or experience-sharing comment. May we also read comments with more forgiveness and optimism. If we can, hopefully when we get to the hereafter we'll find we already have good practice at feeding those around us. 



P.S. What did you think about my take on comments? Did I miss any techniques that you like to use? What benefits or challenges did I miss? What other aspects of commenting did I miss? (And to the skeptical, I promise this post isn't an attempt to fish for more comments :)

P.P.S. Yet again, I'm having trouble with my boundaries about video games. On Monday I started the beginning of a two week hiatus--I'll have to assess whether or not video games are compatible with my recovery at all (as much as it pains me to say it). I may write more about this later. Hopefully this break will lead to more free time to finish other projects...like a comic I've been working on for at least three weeks.