Step 3 - Submitting to the will of God

The panic attack is no better. My sleep is just as disturbed. The only comfort right now is that this has obviously become important to me or I would simply be glancing past it. I guess that is some consolation. I almost wish I could crawl back into my little hole. It was painful but I’m not sure it was as terrifying as this.

I’m trying to grasp what it means to “submit to the will of God.” I have a basic intellectual understanding. Basically that means that I understanding what it means for other people. It’s always intellectual until it deals with us. Then it becomes gut-wrenching. Anyway, I’m going to start with the intellectual because at least it gives me a place to start.

In Psalms 55:22, it says: “Cast thy burden upon the LORD, and he shall sustain thee.” Throughout the scriptures are examples of the Lord making the burdens of His people bearable, while not removing the burden itself for a very long time. I think that is really difficult for us to understand.

We live in a society of instant gratification. Once upon a time, we expected a delay of a couple of weeks for an answer to a question. It took that long for the mail to get back and forth. Now we expect immediate answers: we have telephones, faxes, instant messaging, and video conferencing. There are no excuses for delays. ASAP no longer allows time for thought. Personally, if I get something in the mail, especially about finances, and I can’t get hold of someone immediately to clear up the matter (my mail doesn’t come until after 5 so most offices are closed), I fume until the next day when I can talk to someone. And don’t even try to imagine how bad it is if the problem arises on a Friday evening with a weekend between me and a resolution! Now, now, now, now, now! Not tomorrow. I want it now. And I am NOT alone. How many young couples get buried in debt because they want their first home to be like their parents home? They forget that their parents started out with a tiny apartment and slowly improved their situation. My parent’s first apartment was one room with a closet restroom that required maneuvering just to close the door. They had wonderful memories from that time of their lives. But young couples don’t want to step down from what they are used to. Only move forward, even if that means ridiculous debt. Patience is something that has been buried in the backyard with all the dead pets of our past.

Yet patience, at least I am told, is the trait a parent needs most. Perhaps that is a celestial trait that we most need to develop is we hope to become like our Heavenly Father. No other trait would require so much humility. But like the child, we want to stomp our feet and scream, “Not fair!” I always have to laugh at the prayer I once saw on a wall hanging:

“Lord, give me patience, and give it to me now.”

So enduring trials with grace seems to be something the Lord wants us to learn. This part I can do fairly well. Other than my depression, which sometimes knocks me down, I find I can usually deal with the physical trials. Heart attack – laughed about. Bike accident – kept the policemen laughing while we waited for the ambulance. Although I admit that not being able to run or dance gets a little wearing after five years. Still, all in all, that hasn’t been my problem. So all along, I’ve foolishly imagined that I was submitting to the will of God.

Over the last year, since I admitted I had an addiction, my relationship with the Lord has become far more honest and more strained. I’ve found myself yelling at Him – expressing my anger, my sense of abandonment. I’ve tried to make Him feel guilty or to make him see my point of view and accept it. Basically, I’ve tried to get Him to submit to my way of thinking.

For me, to submit to Him is to accept that He know better than I do and accept the disappointment that His chastisement or refusal brings and believe that it is because he has something better in mind. But when your life keeps going nowhere, how do you keep this faith strong? Yet I know that my life goes nowhere because I am too afraid to take chances. So that really isn’t His fault.

I guess patience and I just don’t get along. I start things out with force and then burn out quickly when I don’t succeed right away. So how can the Lord teach me anything if I’ve quit before I learn. Some words that I’ve grown to hate are “in the Lord’s own time.” I feel like I keep waiting for the Lord’s own time and the world has passed me by. But is that His fault for taking his time or my fault for doing nothing. Obviously, it’s my fault. So now I have to ask, is it too late for me? I’m trying to learn patience: with myself and with the Lord.

Right now, it still comes down to the question: can I really bring myself to truly submit to the will of the Lord. I want to desperately. I need to in order to find a life without the bondage of the addiction. I need to understand that as my Father, He loves me and wants what is best for me.

There is just still this terror eating at my heart.

Step 3 - In harmony with the will of God

If I used profanity, this might be one of those times.

Last night was not peaceful. There were no visions of sugar plums dancing in my head. On my head maybe, but certainly not in my head. Guess what? Revisiting steps can be even more traumatic than the first time around. My first time through Step Three (for those of you just joining the show - I'm working both Steps Three and Four - where I was when I started the blog and where it sent me back to) I was frustrated. I was still at that "I don't know" level. Having worked Step Three and gone on to Step Four, I felt like I finally trusted the Lord. Last night was a rather disturbing revelation.

It was, of course, set off by thinking about yesterday's blog. The more I thought, the more I started experiencing panic. I finally had another one of those moments from Hook, you know Smee's famous "I've just 'ad an apostrophe!"moment. Well, my epiphany left me near tears as I realized the line I had drawn in the sand. I'm willing to trust up to here and no farther.

Here's my problem. What if turning my will over to God requires me not only to give up my addictions - which I am ready and willing to do - but also to give up everything that matters to me? What if He takes away the only things left to me that are important? What if he requires that as His sacrifice?

Even writing this, I'm in a total panic. My eyes are filled with tears. The scriptures state that "men are that they might have joy" but that joy is returning to live with God. Many of the greatest men and women of the scriptures have suffered throughout their lives. I'm not that strong. There is not much that matters to me; but there are a couple of things. Right now, there are my family and my creative writing. I'm not published but I want to be. What if the will of God is that I'm not? What if His will is that I'm always alone?

I'm discovering it is one thing to trust Him with all my sins. That's quickly becoming the easy part for me. But do I trust Him, if I stop there? I'm desperately trying to work through it.

To me, trusting Him to direct my life means that I believe with all my heart that He can see farther down the road than I can. It means believing that the outcome matters to Him. Yet in the past, when I've tried to turn a problem or decision over to the Lord, I've frequently received no answer. I've discussed my frustration with my church leaders and they've told me that the Lord must trust that whatever decision I make will be fine with Him. So, I don't have a lot of experience with the Lord taking my hand and leading me to start with.

I do have experience with the Lord protecting me. I was told once that angels protected me in times of great danger. I can tell you I know that is true. My life has been preserved from accident and worse. When I think of those specific times, I am still in awe. So why is it so hard for me to make this final leap of faith? I guess because I'm afraid that the last things that give me joy will be taken from me.

This hole is deeper than any other I've dealt with. I can't see the light this time. Somehow I have to keep fighting.

Step 2 - Healing

Do you ever feel broken? I do - all the time. I guess that is because I am. But I am beginning to realize that we all are, to some extent. Some of us suffer physical breakage. When I say I am broken, I think I mean my mental health. I am drawn to things that cause me pain and sorrow and loneliness as if they would explain why I already hurt. Those are areas where my soul and my mind need healing, so that I can feel a part of humanity; so that I can feel loved by the Lord.

I need healing to overcome resentment. Sometimes I'm amazed at how much resentment I feel and at how much confusion that resentment causes. As you may have guessed from my previous entries, I'm scared to death of the concept of sex and yet I resent that I can't partake of the "joys" of the flesh because I am single and really do believe that the Lord meant it when He gave the commandment against adultery and fornication. That leaves me on the outside. Of course there is that terror as well. And the guilt for using pain for sexual release to replace them. It is all so confused.

I need healing so that I can feel there is a place for me and a purpose for my existence. I need healing so that I don't feel alone when I am surrounded by people who love me.

You know when you have a cut or a scrape? Your body gets busy and starts healing it. God created a wonderful mechanism for healing. The body stitches away and creates a protective coating we call a scab which covers the area while it heals. Then as the miracle of healing finishes, the scab wears away leaving the healed area exposed.

Not with me. Oh, my body works the way it was intended to work. The fault lays in my impatience or my obsessiveness - one or the other. As soon as the scab starts to form, I start picking at it. I run my fingernail under the edges until it breaks away and eventually the scab gives up and pulls off, leaving my unhealed wound open to the world. My body sighs and tries again. I rip away at the new scab and the battle continues. Eventually my body usually wins, but at a price. I have a much worse scar than I would have had, if only I would have let my body heal at nature's pace. And I never learn. I just can't stand to leave the scab alone.

It's the same way with my mental health. I find it hard to accept healing. I beat myself about the head and shoulders (figuratively at least) and make myself miserable, tearing myself down, minimizing my progress, not allowing myself to feel the happiness that life is offering.

Somehow I need to find joy in my being here on earth. I have joy in my family; but I rail against my circumstances and against whatever it is in me that is so overwhelmed that I seem incapable of doing what others do easily and taking control of those circumstances that seem to take the joy from life - circumstances which I CHOSE, by the way.

I let the trials beat me to a pulp, until I feel incapable of taking any action that would alter the circumstances in a positive way or at least move me forward in the path of those chosen circumstances. Instead of taking control and even enjoying the path I've chosen - a path not many have the opportunity to travel, I feel like I am drowning amidst powerful tides that carry me along.

If I can turn to the Lord, every morning, and make Him my partner in my day, perhaps I can feel the strength of His power enough to heal the wounds that fester because I keep picking at them. Perhaps I can feel his redeeming power enough to resist the moments of temptation and spiritual death that tear me away from my goal.

The last couple of days, I have felt the darkening of depression. I have come to realize that this is one of my major triggers. Knowing that, I realize I need to cling to that healing power right now. As I feel like the waters are starting to rise around me, I must cling with all my faith.

Perhaps I can survive.

Step 2 - The gift of grace

¹⁵ For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.
¹⁶ Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.

(Hebrews 4:15-16)

Grace is a concept that has given the world many problems - and wars. Grace versus Works seems to be a favorite argument between religions; yet the scriptures state both are required. Maybe that's one thing we addicts do understand better than some. We can't do it alone, but we still have to do our part.

My addiction recovery book quotes a bible dictionary's definition of grace:

"divine means of help or strength" given through
the "bounteous mercy and love of Jesus Christ"

Basically, what I get out of that is that, once we've done what we can, His grace is there to lift us up and take us the rest of the way: IF WE ARE WILLING TO LEAN ON HIM.

I don't know about any of the rest of you, or even if there is anyone else reading this, but I am like a pendulum. I swing from one side to the other, as radically as gravity and momentum will allow.

When I was young, there was a commercial on television. I don't remember it clearly (thanks to my Swiss-cheese memory) but the tag line was "Grandpa, I'd rather do it myself!" That's me. I'm there standing under the open heavens, thumping my chest and declaring that I can do this all myself. I have to be able to - after all, that's why I came to earth: to prove myself.

Then the pendulum swings. (I could sing an old song here but I'll let you off the hook.)

And there I am in a heap on the ground, unable to even look up. "I can't do it. I want this to be over. I've failed so badly already. Can't you take the trial away? I'm turning it over to you now. Wake me up when it's over."

Somewhere there is a point of balance: when we've done all we can and the Savior's Grace takes over.

I felt it once that I can remember. Maybe that's why I need to do this blog. So that I won't forget.

Usually when things get bad, an addict turns to their addiction. This year I lost my mother. (I've talked about it in prior posts so, once again, feel free to avoid Twilight Zone moments by hitting my archives.)

Amazingly, when mom died, I felt there was a period of time when I was protected from my addiction because the temptations were not even there at the time when I was at my lowest. For once in my life, Grace literally lifted me away from my addiction at a time when I would have been incapable of dealing with it.

That protection was not permanent and once I was back on my feet, I had to deal with temptation, addiction, falling, and getting back up. But I learned one thing that I knew but didn't believe before. The Savior really was there for me.

Right now, though I still fear falling, I am more at peace and feel a greater sense of forgiveness than I have in a very long time.

I think there is a great misunderstanding of Grace. It isn't just the result of words. It requires us to do all we can; then the Savior will help us to do more than we could - He will do what we cannot. But Grace doesn't mean that He will do what we WILL NOT DO.

Whenever I think I can't go a step further and then I do go just one more step, that is when, without maybe realizing it, I have just partaken of Grace.

Step 2 - Faith in Jesus Christ (Higher Power)

Isn’t it amazing how easy it is for us to believe in some things and how hard it is for us to believe in others? I just came from Comic-Con where hordes (I don’t know how many yet but last year there were 125,000 people and this year was sold out so…) came to celebrate their favorite heroes and villains and worship at the feet of the creators: authors and illustrators. The fervor that existed at the conference was amazing. I’m not sure that it would have been wise to indicate that Batman, Joker, Dr. Who, or any number or Anime heroes didn’t exist. There might have been injuries. I know it was all in fun – but tell that to the 6500 screaming fans of Edward Cullen, the sexy forever 17-year-old vampire whose frequent response of “uh…” still excited his fans.

So why is it so hard for us to believe in God or to accept that He loves us? Why is Faith so difficult?

Faith is a principle of Action. That is something that we’ve forgotten or perhaps never knew. It isn’t the same as belief. Belief is a first step – it is important. But it won’t get us there. In James 2:19 we are told just how much belief alone won’t get us there: the devils also believe, and tremble. Faith requires we do something. And that sucks at times – that’s where we stumble – well, where I do anyway.

There is an instance in the New Testament that I think is a point of transition: a place where within a moment a man in need goes from doubt to belief to faith. It is in Mark 9. A father had a son that he must have loved dearly but, like many parents today, was having lots of problems with. In his case, his son threw himself about, foamed at the mouth, physically injured himself, refused to eat, and showed every sign of insanity or possession. The father was desperate and went to the Savior who asked the father a simple yet infinitely difficult question: “If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth” or in other words: “Do you believe?”

In such a situation, it would be natural to do anything to get help, not the least of which would be to say, “Absolutely!” The father was more honest. “And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.”

In that moment his belief, even though he admitted it was not 100%, became an act of faith. He DID something. That’s what I’m learning through the Addiction Recovery Program. That’s what “leap of faith” means. We don’t KNOW. We exercise Faith and DO something.

There was an ancient king who was being taught about Christ. He didn’t know anything but he knew the goodness of his teacher and he sensed there was truth in his message. Still it was new and strange to him. When he was asked to pray, his prayer was the essence of my hope: that I can live up to his prayer in my darkest moments.

“O God, Aaron hath told me that there is a God; and if there is a God, and if thou art God, wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee, and that I may be raised from the dead, and be saved at the last day.”

This is where Faith comes in – to be willing to give away our addiction.

This is where Fear comes in. My greatest fear is that, in times of weakness, I don’t want to resist – I don’t want to give away my addiction – I don’t want to call someone. That leaves me without the ability to rely on myself or others because I won’t turn to them. Well, that’s kind of the definition of an addict. Willpower goes out the window, I guess.

But what about the Lord? If in those dark moments, I won’t turn to Him, will He still help? How can He? It seems to me that this is the very crux – the center of the quandary of the addict. Will He save me in spite of myself?

I don’t think so. But I am coming to believe that, if I do everything I can to exercise Faith in Him when I am not in my darkness, He can hold on to me when my darkness starts to take over – give me an anchor to keep me from drowning in my addiction.

My bishop gave me a challenge/assignment that has helped me exercise that principle of Faith in Christ. It seemed like a simple task – homework – that was formulaic but it has kept me out of the darkness since I started. Maybe because it has feed my spirit; maybe because it has taught me a little obedience, maybe just because I am doing something to show Faith.

In the morning, I get ready and then have prayer. Then I have a morning “devotional.” I read the scriptures – okay baby steps, it’s usually only a chapter right now but it is a beginning – and then I work on the 12-steps program and do my blog. I’ve forced myself to get past all the excuses about “no time” and realize this is my life, my sanity, and yes, my soul we are dealing with. I find the time now.

Starting my day with prayer and my devotional, I am trying to regain the Faith in Christ that will get me through the day – that will fortify me in the gospel so that He will be able that hold me up when I need Him, before I am too far gone to care.

That doesn’t take away all the fear. I heard another addict who is fighting my same battle express my very thoughts when she said sometimes she really wanted to mess up. That’s the fight alright. Half of me wants to beat the addiction and half of me wants it to be acceptable. It’s not and still I can survive.

With Faith in Christ/Our Higher Power.

Step 2 - Belief in God

First, I want to apologize. I'm currently out of town at a conference and have been having problems finding an Internet connection. So this week may be sporadic, but I will continue to seek opportunities to post.

As I mentioned in my last post, belief in God is not a problem. I have always had a belief in His existence. There has been a fear in the back of my mind that, like the imaginary brownies of my childhood humiliation, He might prove non-existent, but it has never been more than a fear of the repetition of that nightmare - never a belief. That belief has even saved my life.

Back in my early years of college, I began suffering severe depression for the first time. I had gone through my Spockonian years and been forcibly evicted from them by a well-meaning fellow student. Allowing myself to feel brought incredible pain which led to depression which eventually led to my fear of the "little white house on the hill" - a defunct psychiatric hospital. I finally went in for counseling and tested "suicidal." After being whacked up with a dosage of anti-depressants what were probably responsible for the dancing crocodiles in Disney's Fantasia, I became pretty much non-functional and failed a semester because I couldn't get out of bed. I finally took myself of the medication because I couldn't live my life that way. My therapist was concerned. The medications were because I was considered suicidal! They were necessary. Finally understanding the purpose of the drastic and very annoying medication, I explained that, regardless of the test, I wasn't going to kill myself. The reason was simple and it came down to this very point: I believe without a doubt in the reality of God and Christ and I could never face Christ and explain to him why I took the easy way out when he had suffered so much for me. That knowledge alone has always kept me away from the edge.

But that didn't mean I truly believed He loved me. There is a huge difference between believing that "He loves all mankind" and "He loves me." And I have what I told was a very valid reason for doubted His personal love - a reason tied to my anger. "If He loves me so much, where the heck was He when whatever happened to me, happened!" I thought that was pretty good logic.

So you can imagine who rebellious I felt when my task was to focus on the following:

"Many witnesses in heaven and in earth testify of God's existence. What evidences of God and His love have you experienced?"

Talk about ripping my heart out!!! Here I was supposed to focus on God's love for His children. I couldn't help but compare my sense of abandonment to their description of the love of God that they felt. It really wasn't helping.

Then, I was supposed to come up with instances of his Love that I had felt!

I fought this step for a long time. And I was not alone. Sometimes we want to hold onto our pain. It is familiar and we love it. We identify with it. Take it away and we forget who we are.

So when I finally started, I started with the one thing I could understand - family.

The first evidence of His love that I could see and understand was my immediate family. He sent me to them. I had broken down and reached out to my sisters, confiding in them the nature of my addiction. They love me still. As hard as it is for me to believe that, at least I can feel it and equate it back to Heavenly Father.

The second evidence was a blessing - a relief. During a period of time last year when every stress that could, fell on my head including the death of my beloved mother. Usually when everything seems to go wrong - out pops the addiction. For once, I found strength in that time and was protected from my addiction during that time of crushing sorrow.

The third evidence is when I did crash back into my addiction, instead of being thrown out with the trash, I was gathered in: my bishop, my therapist, the addiction recovery group, a group at the university, the psychiatrist, and others who gave me blessings all formed a circle of strength around me. And the blessings themselves, whose words were mostly forgotten, except that I retained a strong memory that in every one, I was told that He loved me or was pleased with my progress, or was pleased with my willingness to ask for a blessing.

The more I thought, the more the evidences seemed to appear - some simple, some vividly dynamic.

My mother's strong testimony that bore me up through youth.

The Atonement of my Savior!

In the end, I guess it all came down to my one angry question: "Where were you when I was a child..."

I finally discovered the answer and all the anger began to lose its power.

He was right there. He couldn't take my grandfather's free agency away so whatever happened, happened. But He could protect me in a very different way. By staying with me. By taking away the memories. By being there with me. And the funny thing is: the child knew it. I never doubted His existence as a child. And I loved Him dearly.

It was the adult that became angry and took it out on both of us. It was the adult that wanted to punish and hurt someone for the pain she had endured. It was the adult who had to deal with being an addict.

And now it is the child that is having to find her way back home.

Step 1 - When Honesty leads to Hope

Addicts don't like change. At least this one doesn't. Change is bad. Change means doing something. Change hurts. And... change means... DOING something.

A friend in group gave me an article sometime back that talked about sobriety programs (or any addiction program) being based on "doing." That's where we get lost. We can think things to death; but we aren't going to improve until we do something. I know. It took me a year just to start writing; and that was the easy thing. Well, not for me, but surely for some people.

I found out something very interesting. As I got closer to feeling that I had really worked through Step One, my brain started screaming at me. "Wait! Don't think I quite got that. Let's go back and review. You know, I don't think I'm being REALLY honest yet...." And on, and on, and on. I think I was trying to set a record for the longest time on Step One. Because as long as you are still working on Step One, you are no closer to the dreaded Step Four (moral inventory). The fact that Step Two is going to bring Peace doesn't seem to matter. It is closer to Step Four and should therefore be avoided.

*Heart pounding, breathing rapid, patient's vitals entering danger zone*

But there comes a time when you have to accept that you have done the one thing required: you have admitted you have an addiction and you are helpless to beat it by yourself. Now it is time to graduate - to move on. Don't worry. You'll have to revisit Step One many times, probably. We all need tune-ups. But right now, we need to move on.

I decided on my rite of passage. I'm working both Steps Four (gulp) and revisiting Step One because of discovering my new addiction while writing this blog. I decided I wasn't going to let myself get stuck in Step One mode for another year. I decided to move on to Step Two by being Honest with the two friends that were still weighing so heavily on my heart.

I'm still alive; although now my lie has been laid bare, effectively destroying my protector in IMVU. I feel a little scared because I know I can't hide behind an imaginary protector anymore. I have to face reality.

They were amazingly kind and understanding. The lie has lost its power. I hope I will be able to keep their friendship. We said we would - in a place where I would be comfortable. I didn't explain what didn't need to be told; I just cleared out the lies. I want to give them a little time to think - to make sure they are okay. All I know is that I left feeling like the world hadn't come to an end.

So now I am ready to move forward. HOPE. It sounds delightful.

Step 1 - The Lord's delight

"Lying lips are abomination to the Lord: but they that deal truly are his delight" (Proverbs 12:22).

"Houston, we have a problem."

Throughout my life, I have considered myself an honest person. To be blatant (and to use an old worn out saying), I can't lie my way out of a paper bag. [Not sure where that saying came from.] Which is strange, given that addicts are considered the best liars, right behind sociopaths.

When I was in grade school, a bully (female nonetheless) at school gave me three rubber balls to hold on to. Why? I have no idea. Remember - I have very little memory of my childhood - just these few traumatic moments. Anyway, somehow I lost them. All I remember is terror and the need to call home. I went to the office and asked to use the phone. Apparently I was told "no" because, out of desperation, I lied. I also was immediately caught. As I said - I'm a terrible liar. I ended up spending what seemed like eternity in the principal's office being lectured on lying. I don't know what happened with the girl who had given me the balls, but I'm still alive.

So how does the world's worst liar end up with an addiction that no one knows about AND mess up her world (see previous posts if you are starting to sense the Twilight Zone encroaching) as badly as I have over the last few days?

Semantics.

You see, with my addiction, I just never talked about it. Avoidance. It was an invisible addiction and if someone asked how I was doing, it wasn't a lie to tell them I was fine, it was just being positive.

Semantics.

And on IMVU, I was an actress, just like on the stage. I was acting. I was in character. Everyone was acting. I was playing two roles.
Semantics.

Lies. Sigh. Isn't it wonderful how language can make everything seem okay? But in the end, when the pain wears away the disguise, it is the same thing.

Last night, I meet with another one of the people on IMVU that I have become friends with - that I became lost in my character with. I sent an invitation to meet with me on neutral ground so to speak. This time I was more prepared and as hard as it was, there were no tears, nor was there a breaking heart. This time there was truth.

No, I didn't go into everything. I'm not sure I needed to. Can you imagine life if every time you met someone new, you had to launch into your whole life story? I'm not sure whether that would send up as a tragedy or a situation comedy. Instead I started with the truth that I had been unable to tell the friends I had left: the truth that had caught me off-guard, the truth that had broken my heart. Except this time, it didn't have as much power over me somehow.

I explained that I was both characters: that I needed the male character to protect me because I don't trust well. That he gave me the freedom to relax in the room. We talked. He was confused. We talked some more and he seemed to understand. But most important, he accepted it. I won't be going back to the room. I've made my break. But we've agreed that we can be friends outside the room.

The honesty of our conversation left me more peaceful. I'm not over the trauma yet. I've surgical sliced out a part of myself. It's bound to hurt. I've still got to heal. And I've still got to figure out how to talk two those two precious friends that I haven't been able to be fully honest with. Because my heart is still broken there. And there are more consequences to fear there; because it cuts too close to the heart of my addiction. And I don't think I can ever heal until that wound is cared for.

And now I'm back - staring at the scripture, wondering where I stand with the Lord. What about when dealing truly brings pain? Well, let's be honest, the pain comes because of the lie. It will come eventually, whether we deal with the lie or avoid it. I should have figured that out by now. I've lived it long enough. It's the natural consequence of things.

In our society, we don't want to suffer the consequences for our actions. Hey, we're free - right? Yes, we are free. Free to choose. But with choice comes consequences. Right now, I wish someone could just make it better. But I have this feeling that Heavenly Father wants me to make it better.

I just have to figure out how. How to go from the lie to the truth; from the abomination to the delight?

Step 1 - Humility

I don't own an analog clock. That's the type of clock with real hands that ticks away the minutes. You can hear each click as the hands slowly move around the face. Now the whole world has gone digital and we don't hear the passage of time like we used to. Right now I need the old style; I need to hear the tick, tick, tick. I need it to sound with my heartbeat to remind me that I've survived another day.

For the last digital half-hour, I've sat at my computer, trying to pull together my thoughts. It has been difficult because they are avoiding contact. My heart and my head are still mad at each other and I've having problems getting them to make peace. They will eventually. That is the way of the world. And in this case, it was necessary. Tough love.

But my heart is screaming out "humiliation" and my soul is trying to convince it that this was "humility." And my heart isn't buying the difference.

In Addiction Recovery we say that "individuals finally become willing to abstain when the pain of the problem becomes worse than the pain of the solution." That pain is where the humiliation lies. Doing something about it is humility. The problem is getting stuck in the humiliation - where the pain isn't quite exquisite enough to bring us down to humility.

Before I admitted that I had an addiction, I had a very warped view of the world. Everyone around me was in perfect control - for good or bad - they had control. I was the exception. And that made me weak and evil. It didn't matter what other people thought of me. Since discovering reality (although I obviously try to abandon it on a regular basis), I've learned one important truth: I'm not alone in my struggle.

I've meet good people who have lost their jobs, their spouses, their children, their self-respect: everything they valued. The humiliation - the pain - has finally forced them to face their "demons". And they usually hate themselves. Humiliation does that to you.

In my case, my humiliation was secret - my addiction being so hidden that only my religious leader and my counselor knew and they knew only because I told them.

Group has a fascinating effect. As I sat for months, listening but not talking, hearing others describing my feelings, finally opening up myself, I figured it out. Group helped me take the humiliation I felt and realize it had changed into humility, because of their unqualified acceptance of me.

So maybe that's the key. Humiliation is what we do to ourselves. Humility is what God/our higher power can change it into once we are ready.

Humiliation brings self-hatred, depression, misery, and desperation. Humility brings change.

What I think I've just discovered is that it is a cycle. Right now, I'm back in the humiliation cycle - not completely. Just in one area; just where my heart is still aching; just where Step 9 is going to bite me coming back around. I didn't want to take the step I took the other night. I guess the pain of the problem wasn't great enough. But maybe the fear for my sanity was. Whatever the reason, I took it. And the pain was more than I could imagine. But there is more to the story - the humiliation that I haven't overcome - that I don't know what to do with - that I'm going to have to deal with - that has to lead to humility: somehow.

As I was leaving, I lied to them. (If you are lost - please refer to my last post. If you don't, then no compass is going to help.) Because I had two characters, I had to use two computers. This meant I could only have one character leave the room at a time. After I had left, I went to take my escort out when they stopped him/me to ask a few questions. I wasn't prepared for that. I had said my goodbyes and my heart was dead. Their questions had to do with reality and my answers were absolutely truthful and absolutely lies at the exact same time because I couldn't get the real truth out. I couldn't say that it was still me talking to them; that I loved them but had gotten so lost that I had deceived them. In real life, I'm known for being truthful. I can't tell a lie to save my soul. And suddenly I couldn't tell the truth. When did I disappear? When did I die? Somehow I missed it.

Step 9 deals with making restitution - making things right. How am I ever going to be able to do that? Oh, there are many other layers to my onion. Layers that are trying to protect people I love who could be hurt. Suddenly, things that have been my joys are the very things that are making me feel empty - hollowed out.

I wish this were a television show. It would all work out. I know, because I saw it. His name was Barclay and he served aboard the Starship Enterprise during the Next Generation series. He was addicted to the holodeck. He survived and made something of his life. *run credits*

Step 1 - Honesty

Last night when I went to bed - pretty close to on time, by the way, my eyes were swollen and red from crying. This morning they had cleared a lot - on the outside.

I guess I need to back up; starting at the ending doesn't explain things very well. If you've read my prior posts, you are aware that I've discovered I'm fighting a new addiction, one that is conveniently sneaking into the hole left by ripping out my old addiction.

Last night, I stuck my hand into my chest and ripped my heart out. At least that is what it felt like. Hopefully I can fill that hole with positive things. Right now it just hurts. I don't even feel like writing but maybe that is when I need to the most. Besides, I am not sure anyone is really reading this, so why worry.

Because my addiction is tied up with emotional injuries, I have seen a therapist on and off for many years.

(Note to world: I recommend you get a therapist who is wise enough and honest enough to tell you what you need to hear and not what you want to hear. It's really easy to palm off the "You're okay, whatever you want to do is okay" pap - no change, no pain. Accept yourself as you are. Love yourself as you are. Well that's just great. And while you are lying in the gutter, drunk out of your mind or strung out on drugs watching the last shreds of your life fade away - keep telling yourself that. Oh, your addiction isn't chemical? Neither is mine. Doesn't make a difference. It's the same thing. An addiction is an addiction - it destroys and don't believe anyone who tells you it's just a choice. The whole point of an addiction is that you have given away the choice. So find someone who cares enough to go through the trauma with you.)

We discussed my recent "replacement-addiction" to IMVU. I was surprised by some of the discussion. Her concern wasn't just how much time I was spending in the virtual reality world. It was much deeper. In Monday's post, I used the onion metaphor to try and get at the problem. I've kept peeling away this week and it has gotten... painful.

If you haven't read Monday's post, you are about to enter the Twilight Zone. I suggest you go back and read it. Really. Of course to understand Monday's post, I suggest you read "In the Beginning" which is... long - five parts. Oh well. Welcome to the Twilight Zone.

There are two vampire rooms I felt comfortable - no make that welcome and loved in. My character would show up and people would cheer. Wow! What an incredible high. I was never popular. Not in grammar school, not in high school, not in college. Yet there, for some bizarre reason, on IMVU I'm popular. Especially my vampire character. And she is gentle. Never bites without it being offered. You know the type.

The one room made me uncomfortable because of an anti-religious feel - two crosses that people could crucify themselves on - that really disturbed me. But I would try to ignore them and I met two people that I really liked. Fun people who, knowing my age, accepted me and liked me. They also liked my alter ego - my boyfriend that allowed me to be flirty without worrying about anyone making crude comments. Too bad he was just another aspect of me - but he worked beautifully. (He was also mortal. Strange that...) Again, I was so into character, that I was no longer myself. And I enjoyed myself - all except those crosses. We danced and chatted and laughed.

The other room was originally a vampire room with a dom/sub aspect. First time there I told them I didn't believe in masters or slaves. That was fine with them. The strange thing is, that for all my screwed up desire for pain, that part of it is irrelevant - even bothersome. I don't even understand it. But again, I met the owners of the room and we became very good friends. She was sweet and full of life (other than being a vampire of course) and he was intelligent and fascinated with learning new things. That one got me, because I am fascinated with everything. I love to learn about science, art, culture, people... the list goes on. So while I danced in the room - with my consort avatar - we chatted about wonderful things.

But still there was the dark side of the room - the side that pulled on my addiction. There were the slaves that would occasionally get into sexual play and I would feel so out of place and guilty and....

We talked, my counselor and I. We talked about the things I didn't want to talk about. Not about my fun dancing and talking and discussing the universe and quantum mechanics and art and nature and people. We talked about S/M rooms and getting lost in role playing.

At the very beginning of my blog - waaaayyy back, I said I was a good actress. I started my two characters on IMVU as characters from a book I've written. For most of my friends - real life ones, ones through my church group, designer friends - it was not a problem. For my friends in my vampire room - I got lost in my character. I wanted to get lost in my character. It is as if I wanted to convince them that she was the real vampire - her story the real truth of vampires - and when the book came out - they would know the real thing. It wasn't a game. I was just lost inside her, inside him.

Last night, I went back to that room, with a very specific purpose in mind. I accompanied myself - in other words, both my characters went together as we usually do. Only the master of the room was there - not the mistress. We danced for awhile. He played slow music just for us so we could slow dance in the spots that I love so much. I cried knowing what I was there to do.

Finally, as it got late and my newly recommitted bedtime got closer, I said I wished the mistress of the room was there was well. (I am purposely avoiding names because I have grown to truly love these two young people.) I told him I had come to say goodbye. He asked me to wait and the mistress came quickly.

It was a very sad and sweet goodbye. I tried to explain but how can you explain insanity and addiction. I explained that I am different - an asexual person (which is true - my addiction is to pain which brings a sexual release of sorts - but not to sex which scares me to death) and that as much as they had made me welcome, as much as I loved coming to the room and dancing, as much as I LOVED their company - the room was not good for me. I tried to explain what I could not explain. And I said goodbye.

I cried for a long time. I was surprised at how bad it hurt. All I could think of was the scripture in Mark 9:43 that says "And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched."

I wish I could have been more honest. I'm afraid when I finally get to Step 9, I will have to face them. Until then, I have to find a more secure footing in reality and realize it has something of value to offer.

Step 1 - Hunger and thirst

Long ago a young man came to the Greek philosopher, Socrates, who was greatly sought out by young students for his wisdom. The young man came to him in search of truth. Socrates took the young man out into the ocean, then surprising the young man, grabbed him and held him under the water. The young man struggled, fighting against drowning. As his struggles weakened, Socrates finally, mercifully pulled him out of the water. Sputtering, choking, gasping for air, the shocked young man asked Socrates why he had done such a thing. Socrates answered: "When you want to know truth as much as you wanted air, come back."

Many variations of this story exist, along with many interpretations. I've used the story numerous times in teaching. It applies to addiction to. As a matter of fact, it applies to every aspect of life.

We think we want our freedom. Man, I'd love to quit drinking/smoking/watching porn/hurting people I love. I'd do anything if I could just quit. But in reality, until that need is as desperate for us as the need to breathe, we are going to get distracted. I guess that is what is meant when "they" say we have to hit bottom first. We've got to be drowning before we're ready to grab help.

Somewhere inside us, is an immortal soul. I believe that. You may call it something different. It is what makes us who we are and completely different from everyone else. And I know that I, for one, have spent a lot of time trying to ignore it; telling it to shut up. It's like have a little Jiminy Cricket on my shoulder that I keep trying to squish, not realizing he's trying to save me from turning into a jackass. But there it is, yelling at me in a whisper. And according to some scriptures, it can hunger.

Wow what a concept. Not only can my body hunger (which is another addiction I've had to worry about) but so can my soul. Now I've got to work that one out. How can my soul hunger?

I guess above everything else, my soul craves to know that God hasn't given up on me, that he still loves me. Sometimes I feel so alone and separate from both humanity and from heaven that I feel like I don't belong anywhere.

When I was young, I had "friends" (yeah, right) who took great delight in convincing me that there were brownies (a term at that time for another type of faerie - not the young girl scouts) around me that they could see, but I couldn't. I'd go to play and sit in a chair. They would SCREAM!!! I'd just sat on one of the brownies and squished it. Stupid, stupid, me! I couldn't see it. I didn't know. They went so far as to do a magical surgery to help me see the brownies. I snuck a pillow out of my house and took it to school and during recess they performed the magic rite. FAILURE! I still couldn't see the brownies. I was just hopeless.

I still feel echoes of fear that the fairy world that I wanted so bad to see but couldn't - because it didn't exist - would equate to God. Yet in my soul, I know He exists.

Yet, my hunger still exists - the hunger that was and is to feel like I belong somewhere in the universe. My emptiness is that I still don't.

Perhaps that is why I have the fascination for my vampire protector - because I have a reason not to belong then. I don't know. I wish I did. But even there I don't belong. Because my vampire isn't like any of those that I meet in the vampire rooms.

So I'm pushing myself, trying to fit in with normal life. Each little success helps. Each failure at least makes me feel. At least I'm trying. I guess that my hunger is there for a reason - to bring me back to a point where I can find the path home. And after all, that is the purpose of my journey.

Step 1 - "I know that man is nothing"

Okay, after many years of fighting my addiction (even before admitting it was an addiction) and failing, this is sort of ground into my soul. Not a difficult thing to admit. I get it.

That's when it's dangerous. When we think we get it. I didn't get it. I think I understand it better now. Let me share two scenarios.

First - the bully on the schoolyard. He swaggers over to you, surrounded by his peeps. He's twice your size (probably from everyone else's school lunches that he eats) although not all muscle. But then, even 50 pounds more fat than you way can effectively flatten you. He starts shoving you and calling you names. Eventually he pounds you into the ground right in front of the whole student body. Then he walks off laughing with his peeps in tow. Everyone slowly wanders off giggling about you until you are left alone, wishing you'd never been born. Sounds like a movie. Yeah, I know. Unfortunately, it also happens in real life.

Second - A parent on the playground. He walks over to you, where you are struggling, trying to stand. He puts out his fingers and you wrap your tiny hands around them. You try to pull yourself up but don't have enough strength yet. So he gently closes his hands around yours to protect you and pulls up just enough to extend your body and allow you to stand. Shakily, you pick up one foot. You would fall if he weren't holding you up. He shift both of your weight so that your uncertain foot moves forward just an inch and then slightly lowers his hand as your foot comes down to meet the ground and you take a faltering step.

In both cases, compared to the other person, you are nothing. You have no strength, no power, no ability. But what a difference in the potential of the path!

That is what Step 1 is trying to teach, I think. We are nothing with the help of God/our Higher Power. But with Him, we can win.

Without Him, I keep falling down. I keep missing my triggers. I even get to where I don't care. Without Him, my aloneness drives me crazy and I drift to where I accept what I know is wrong. I even crave it.

How do we fight that? My book asks: In what ways are you of infinite worth? My first response (always knee-jerk I'm afraid) was: "Who says I am?" The answer is a slap in the face - the scriptures do - therefore God does. Oops. Sorry.

Deep in my soul I feel such sorrow over my addiction - over sin - that I truly want to walk the path that my Heaven Father has dictated. I believe that He gave us commandment, not to restrict us, but to free us. Addicts should understand that. Our addictions make us prisoners. Get rid of the addictions and we feel an incredible freedom.

So here is what I have to remember.

I am a child of God and therefore - like all others who walk the earth - my loss to Him would be as sad as it would be to my earthly mother. I need to understand that - the feel that connection like I feel the one with my mother. I lost her last year and miss her so much. I need to realize that He feels about us that way.

Still, this is very hard for me. Relying on others, even God, is difficult. I'm a bit self-reliant to say the least.

"I know I'm bleeding but I'm fine, really."

At school once, I was reduced to living off a 5-pound bag of potatoes for a month. I did it. Never ask for help because there are other people who need it more. That's my motto.

So it is extremely frustrating to realize that, in the most important fight of my life, the fight against addiction, I can't rely on myself. I've always been taught to take responsibility for my actions. I'm good at that. I can damn myself in a heartbeat - frequently do. Bad me!

I'm caught in the quandary of knowing how many times I've failed and fearing that each time, all the weight of the previous times is heaped back upon my head. I cry out "Have mercy upon me!" but in my heart, I'm afraid of the next time I'm going to fall. I just don't know how to overcome that fear and become like a little child - trusting in Him to lead me through.

I'm trying and I'm getting better. To use AA terms, I've been "sober" for five months.

It's a beginning.

Step 1 - Encompassed by Temptations (Part 2)

*Cue Weekend*

I had made the decision not to post on weekends, but feel like I cheated by not doing so. Still, it gave me a lot of time to think - particularly because I ended by once again NOT going to bed until Monday morning.

I woke up thinking, "You did it again! Why?" Of course, that is the addicts lament which only verifies that I have to think seriously about this new aspect. Maybe I'm just addicted to sleep deprivation. No? Oh well.

I think what I'm learning is that Satan/the Devil/the Dark Side/Lucifer (put in your title) isn't stupid. Temptation is temptation because it is wrapped is pretty paper and decorated with our favorite distractions. It's the bright, shiny thing that catches our attention. Otherwise it would be easy to ignore.

Temptation is bad enough when it is something that we absolutely don't need. It is really annoying when we have to find the point of moderation. (We can live without alcohol. We can't live without food. You get the point.) Addicts don't tend to understand "moderation" terribly well.

Well Step 1 is about Honesty, so I've been trying to be honest this weekend. It sucks. LOL. That is a private joke that you may get a little later in this blog.

A good friend from the group told me that there is a hole inside us that we fill with our addiction. When we give up an addiction, we fill it with something else - sometimes with another addiction; hopefully with God. Others talk about getting rid of bad habits by replacing them with good habits. The point is, you can't just stop doing something - you have to take "action" - Do Something.

So, my addiction to Internet pain pornography has disappeared. YAY! I haven't had a problem in a long time. I thank the Lord and the group and my religious leader and my counselor and my loving, supportive family. But there is a voice back in my head that is trying to get my attention. Both my religious leader and my counselor have warned me about staying up late and the danger it puts me in of falling again. But here I am - up late - on the Internet...

So what am I doing? Well, don't worry, I'm just being social.

Uh-oh, it's onion time again, isn't it? Sigh. Let's peel away another layer.

For those of you who have never experience IMVU, it is a virtual reality instant messaging program with a twist. You create a world for yourself to live in, a personality, a home page, etc. You can create public rooms with themes that people visit. You can change your appearance and clothing. You can be anything: human or non-human. You can do almost anything: dance, fly, do magic. (Walking is a little problematic so you usually jump from place to place instead of just walking although certain places for a short walk programmed in.) For me that has provided three very seductive outlets. The second is easiest to explain, so I'll start there.

Many years ago, I was in an accident that put me in a wheelchair. Although I've gotten out of that abomination and am able to do most things again, dancing isn't one of them that I can do without a lot of pain. I used to be on a dance team many years ago and while I haven't had the social life in a long time to allow me to dance, my soul misses it something awful. In IMVU, I can dance. Granted, the dancing is a lot sexier than anything I would do in real life, I've found one room where they have put a couple of slow dance spots in (partially for me) so I visit there a lot. Probably too much, considering the theme of the room. I usually keep my visits short; maybe 30 minutes - something that was recently commented on. It made me feel wanted. As I said in a previous post, my character is quite popular. So I spend my nights dancing.

I'll move to the third reason (yes, obviously I'm avoiding the second - good guess). I have more than one account, more than one computer, and therefore I can play more than one character. I've created two characters from a book I wrote. (Yes, my counselor and my family tell me it's obvious that I am the one character, excluding one important aspect.) In my IMVU, these characters are very much in love. So besides filling my social life, IMVU has also fulfilled a non-existent love-life. Somehow, while I can't open up in real life, I can in this world. It isn't a threat.

Now to the hard one. In the dark time of my childhood - when I have so little memory, I created a protector. Sometimes it was someone outside of me. Sometimes it was myself. Always it was a vampire - someone nobody could mess with. But always the vampire was good - a creature of agency like any human who made a choice to overcome the worst part of his/my nature. In IMVU, I've recreated myself as that vampire. The rooms I visit are vampire rooms - but I've the more gentle one - the voice of reason - the never kill. I'm the addiction trying not to be controlled. I'm the dichotomy. Any IMVU lets me be. It's very seductive. While others let their real lives enter in, I've split mine in two. There are my real life and church related friends - with them I'm normal. There are those who know my vampire persona - I never break character, I never let myself peak through.

So now I've come full circle and the questions are more honest. Yes, there are some people that I'm helping, some friends I've found. Those are on the one side. There is no real guilt on that side, although it does sometimes keep me up late because sad things happen to people at bad times. But to be HONEST, that isn't what is causing my panic.

It's the vampire side, where I go dancing, and let my inner vampire out to play. Where I try to convince wannabees that violence and death aren't gifts. Where a person like me who was once diagnosed as passively suicidal, plays the immortal and almost wishes it possible - but only on my terms - without hurting anyone. Where all the love of the universe is embodied in someone that I've created, who loves me - again on my terms - sensually but with no sexuality involved. This is what scares me and draws me. This is what I love and want to be okay and am terrified is just another addiction. This is what I'm afraid that I'll have to give up. It is just a game? Or is it more?

Step 1 - Encompassed by Temptations

Wow. Do you ever feel like the harder you try to avoid your addiction [for those of you are aren't addicts, replace "addiction" with "temptation"] the more likely it is to be waiting for you around the next corner, casually and seductively leaning against the wall, head cocked and smiling - just knowing you weren't expecting to find it there? There is a silent "gotcha" just waiting to swallow you whole. And it doesn't have to be when things are at their worst. At least not for me.

The sad thing is that for most of us, the addiction started out as our protector - sort of the one who protected us from that guy in the alley.

Imagine the movie Interview with the Vampire. There is the mortal Louie, drunk, passively suicidal, stumbling along the dark streets with a prostitute when her pimp throws him against a wall, pulls a knife, and threatens to rob him or kill him. Enter Louie's future addiction in the form of the vampire Lestat, who rescues Louie and turns him into the future blood-a-holic.

Once upon a time, there was a reason we turned to our addictions. The problem is: we didn't recognize them for the murderers they were.

Eventually the addiction turns from the rescuer to the stalker. It's like every bad horror movie you've ever seen. We know the monster is there, waiting, hungry... We even try to warn the character. "No, don't go into the room!!" They never listen. They die.

Sometimes we are lucky and we hear the faint warning voice in our head warning us about the monster. Sometimes we even listen. I guess that is what the addiction recovery group has become for me - that voice that is somehow getting through, warning me about the monster - reminding me it is a monster and not an old friend.

But they can't be there all the time so one of the first things I've had to do is figure out when and why I most feel encompassed or trapped. My first answer came quickly: "I don't know."

I found that has almost always been my first answer. I guess I'm trying to avoid the truth. Digging hurts.

Digging means levels.

For me, warning beacons are loneliness, depression, illness, and night. There, that takes care of that. But what about loneliness, depressions, illness, and night triggers my addiction? And what triggers depression and loneliness? And how can I avoid night??? Or illness for that matter?

I peeled off a layer of the onion and cried.

Okay. Let's start with illness - that should be pretty easy. It makes sense that if I get sick, my defenses are down. But I can't help it if I get sick! Except that I frequently don't go to bed until 5 or 6 in the morning: I'm like a kid who is exhausted, yet fights against going to bed, kicking and screaming the whole time, "I'm not tirrreeeeedddddddd." And no, I don't have insomnia. The second my head hits the pillow, I'm asleep. I just don't seem able to force myself into the bedroom. So I guess I could do a lot to help my health. Sleep, exercise, nutrition. DRAT! In other words, I'm making myself sick?

I peeled off another layer of the onion and cried.

So, if I took care of my health, it would also serve to take me out of harm's way late at night. Sigh.

As I'm sitting here, thinking, I realize a new layer. I'm dealing with more than one addiction. You see, I stay up so late because of the loneliness. I have no social life. I'm not sure whether it's because I've forgotten how or because I'm too boring in real life, but I spend most of my life in my house. Trying to socialize actually causes me panic. Going outside doesn't. That isn't the problem. I just seem to lack the social skills. But I've created a social life online. It's anonymous. I'm not me. I'm not even human. And that being seems to be quite popular. And that... is addicting.

And once again I'm faced with a rescuer that is becoming a stalker. Some addictions are easier than others - don't get me wrong - I don't mean easier to deal with, I mean easier to judge. For example: if you are an alcoholic, as hard as the path is going to be, you know the only way is to quit drinking altogether. But if your addiction is food, you can't quit eating. With my addiction to pain and related pornography, I know I have to quit that all together. But with my social time on the Internet - there are times that I do good. I've talked to other addicts and maybe even helped. I talk to real life friends as well. Does giving that up completely help or destroy?

I don't have the answers. I'm looking too. Your thoughts are welcome.

Step 1 - Honesty

Before my involvement in the Program, the extent of my conscious (translated: admitted) experience with addictions consisted of a very prickly relationship with my grandfather and a loving relationship with an uncle - my mother's brother. There were major differences between the two. One was distance: my grandfather was too close; my uncle lived on the other side of the country. Perhaps there is truth to the old axiom: "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." A second difference was that my grandfather was too "touchy-feely" for me. Now much of that could well have been in my imagination. I don't know. My uncle, on the other hand, always gave us a loving hug when he saw us, but that was it. Well, and the hug was almost a bear hug, which for a kid seemed a lot more fun. But the greatest difference was in the course of their alcoholism.

My grandfather never overcame his addiction. I think he tried, but it was still there at the end of his life. Again, I think he really wanted to overcome it but he hadn't reached that juncture of pain yet. Whether his "indiscretions" were never discussed or actually hidden from my grandmother, I don't know. But they hadn't come back to bite him.

My uncle's had. He had gotten drunk once and lashed out at my aunt, hurting her. She didn't leave him, but he once confided in me (as an adult) that she hadn't let him touch her again. Losing her trust was when the pain of the addiction became too much for him to continue. He joined Alcoholics Anonymous. HE worked the program. Many years later, he came for a visit. Although he hadn't had a drink in years, he looked up a local chapter of AA and attended the meeting. It confused me and we talked. He explained that he was still an alcoholic - always would be - he just didn't drink anymore.

Once an addict - always an addict. I didn't understand then - I didn't want to understand six months ago - it is a saving principle now.

My uncle went on to become an alcohol addiction counselor for the state, then a narcotics addiction counselor, then gambling, then sex addiction, and so on. He worked with the courts and the addicts and saved more lives and I can even begin to imagine.

He died several years ago. His funeral was attended by so many "anonymous" people - people whose lives he had saved by helping them into recovery and through addictions - people who attended his funeral to thank him for their lives - because he was an addict and faced it and worked the program. He lived his life in recovery.

So here I was faced with two examples outside of the group: one of denial and one of true recovery. What did it mean? Obviously, that what happened now was up to me. I could either finally get busy and work the program or keep spinning my wheels. Either way, it was up to me and I had no one to blame but myself if I failed.

So I went home and for the first time looked at the third section of the workbook.

Our 12-step book has three sections: The introduction section for the step including the Key Principle; the Action Steps that gives you goals toward accomplishing that step; and the Study and Understanding section that you work on your own - a question and answer, deep thought, writing hell section - aargh. We read through the first two sections in the meeting and then I promptly ignored the third section. Now I had to not only start working on the second section at home, I actually had to read the third section and answer questions that made me think - something an addict really prefers avoiding.

To top things off, Step 1 is Honesty! Sigh. Couldn't we start with something a little easier? It had already taken me a year on step 1 and now I had to get serious. So I started reading - not just the third section - I wanted to read what my mind was really skipping over and trying to avoid. If I was going to do this right, I had to do this sincerely.

KEY PRINCIPLE:
"Admit that you, of yourself,
are powerless to overcome your addictions
and that your life has become unmanageable."

Alcoholics Anonymous version:
"We admitted we were powerless over alcohol-that
our lives had become unmanageable."

My first reaction to that was - no problem. Got that one checked off. Moving on. With as many times as I had failed to overcome my addiction, the one thing I had accomplished over the last year was to admit it was an "addiction." However, working the step wasn't as easy as just admitting the addiction. I found that out as I started looking at the questions I had to answer.

The Action Steps weren't a big problem either - well, they shouldn't have been. One of them started a chain effect of fear that made me realize if I finished Step 1, I'd have to move on to Step 2 and, having read Step 2 in meeting, I knew I was not ready for it.

Become willing to abstain

Hello! I wouldn't be here if I weren't willing to abstain. The only problem is that, with an addict, we are willing to abstain right up to the point that temptation starts pulling to hard. Then for me, there comes a break - and suddenly I don't want to abstain - I don't care. Getting out of harm's way BEFORE that happens is the trick for an addict and that is a hard moment to define.

Let go of pride and seek humility

Ouch! This was the one I had a problem with. Years ago I had read a poem entitled "Invictus" by William Earnest Henley. I'll quote only the last paragraph:

It matters not how strait the gate
how charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul

I loved the poem because I have always believed in personal responsibility for our lives. I felt, and still do, that Henley was placing responsibility squarely upon us for the choices we make in life.

At the same time, because I was doing research for a paper in school, I found a poem by Dorothea Day which was a Christian rebuttal to the poem. She called her work "My Captain" and the comparable lines were:

I have no fear, though strait the gate,
He cleared from punishment the scroll.
Christ is the Master of my fate,
Christ is the Captain of my soul.

I understood both points of view then, as I do now. Unfortunately, just as holy wars were fought over seemingly conflicting scriptures in the bible, recovery comes through a combination of these two concepts. We have to accept responsibility for our actions. No one else is to blame. We are the captain of soul and we've put ourselves in this position. My grandfather may or may not have done awful things to me. It doesn't matter anymore.

This is my life and I am master of my fate.
If that is not true - then I am a victim and
I refuse to be a victim any more.

But just as true as accepting that responsibility, I've come to realize that I have to let go of the fierce pride that says I can fix this by myself - because I obviously can't - look how many times I've failed.

And with my free agency
I have to turn to my Heavenly Father - God - my higher power
and willing turn over the captaincy of my soul to Him.
Because He can see what I can't.

AND THIS IS SOMETHING THAT HAS TAKEN ADDITIONAL MONTHS TO DO!!!!

Admit the problem; seek help; attend meetings

This one was easy - I'm here - I'm an addict - Help me. But do I really have to do the second one?

In the Beginning - Part 5: Recovery

(The following is a continuation from "In the Beginning: Part 4 - Addiction Recovery Program)

The first real steps in recovery started with death. Any addict will tell you that you can't start recovery until you've hit the bottom; until the pain of the addiction is worse than the pain of reality.

I was feeling pretty impressed with myself. I hadn't given in to my addiction since I started attending the meetings. And believe me, life had only gotten harder.

My mother, who I loved dearly, passed away suddenly. I was barely able to get to where she lived two hours before she died and she wasn't aware I was there. To top it off, I have been a little abrupt the last time we had spoken - not mean - just wishing she weren't being such a mom and worrying about my finances so much. As a family we agreed that, although she had never signed her living will, we would abide by the intent within it and not keep her alive on life support. Unfortunately, while going through her papers later, I found a power of attorney that she had signed sometime before giving me her medical power of attorney and stating she knew I would make the right decisions if she wasn't able to. I was crushed beyond belief because suddenly I felt like I had killed my mother.

The stress only got worse as I had to leave after the funeral for a research trip, keeping me away from the comfort of friends. I was blessed - I had my supportive family calling me and IMing me on the computer.

Still I held it together - and I got cocky.

It wasn't until it seemed like the trials were over that depression set in and I sank into the worst bout of depression and addiction that I had suffered in years. And nothing seemed to be able to pull me out.

I finally went to my bishop, broken hearted and almost hoping that he would have me excommunicated. I guess I felt like I wanted it to be over and to just be damned. Luckily, Heavenly Father used him to reach out to me instead.

He got me started back with my therapist and started meeting with me weekly himself. In my addiction recovery meetings, the facilitator talked about the difference between attending the meeting and "working the steps." I realized that for a year, I'd been using the group as a support group and a social group but I hadn't been doing my part. I hadn't gotten to the point that the pain had forced me to my knees yet.

This scared me to death, because I realized that with all the "faith" I had, I don't trust much at all. That had to change.

So, for the first time in the year that I had been attending the group, I went home, and at the Bishop's recommendation, set aside time every morning to pray, read the scriptures, and WORK THE PROGRAM.

In the Beginning: Part 3 - Getting Through It

(The following is a continuation from "In the Beginning: Part 2 - Revelations)

Getting through it has been no easy task. In fact, although I'm made considerable progress, I can't say I'm done - just that I'm farther along the path.

It started out with hatred. Without any proof, I had an intense hatred toward my grandfather and an almost worse hatred toward my grandmother. It's like I held her responsible for enabling my grandfather's alcoholic behavior. When he was sober, she harped at him about his drinking. But when he got drunk, she babied him, nursing him until he was sober. What could you expect? To me it seems like the drunken state got him more sympathy.

Add that to the fact that my grandmother was extremely manipulative and I guess I can understand my feelings. But what I couldn't understand is why I had such feelings against my grandparents when all my cousins adored them. To say the least, it just made me feel more broken - and obviously wrong.

So what changed to help me get through it? The one thing I've learned is that hating only hurts one person: me. By nature, I am a person that can't hold a grudge. I know - doesn't sound much like an incest survivor. But think about it. Usually we blame ourselves for everything - not anyone else, so it makes a perverse kind of sense. But mainly it is because I really believe in God as our Heavenly Father and in all humanity as my brothers and sisters. And no matter what else has happened in my life, I have been blessed with a mother and father and brother and sisters that love and support me: not knowing the private hell I was going through, and more recently, discovering the depth of my darkness. Still they love me and accept me and stand by me in my struggle. So holding a grudge doesn't come to me naturally. Well, that and the fact my memory is SO bad, I can't remember to hold a grudge.

But the one grudge I held was against my grandparents. I've often said that I believe in the death penalty for child molesters. I didn't exempt my grandfather from that statement. They murder the spirits of children - they deserve as harsh a penalty as someone who kills the body.

It has only been in the last year that my healing has begun. And it started with the realization that these grandparents raised my father and my uncles and my aunt. That was a startling blow to me. You have to understand, although my father is gone now, a victim of cancer, he was one of the most gentle, loving men I have ever known. I may never be able to have a normal relationship, but it will not have been because of his example. He and my mother were lovers throughout their lives. He died 31 years before my mother and, though she lived a happy life and took joy in her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, she missed my father for all those years. And when we lost her recently, our sadness was countered by the joy of knowing that she was reunited with my father, who loved her so much.

Daddy believed in helping people. He was often awakened in the middle of the night to help someone with a broken washing machine, to give a blessing to a quadriplegic, to care for the sick. And he never complained. Don't get me wrong. Sometimes as a child, I felt he expected too much from me, like going to school every day, even when I didn't feel like it. (Mean old dad!) But when a shattered glass accidentally cut a vein in my hand, it was my dad who rode with me in the ambulance, telling me jokes to keep me from going into shock and sat with me as they sewed up my hand.

And my alcoholic grandfather and manipulative grandmother were responsible for raising that man. And my uncles and aunt were like my dad. Suddenly I had to admit that there was something good within my grandparents - something for which I owed them a great debt - something that actually brought tears to my eyes. And I thought about my father, who had died so many years before, and how sad he would be if my grandfather were punished eternally for something I'm still not even sure happened.

That realization shattered me. Even more, I realized that I didn't want my grandfather to suffer. That one shocked me. Perhaps through the addiction recovery program that I was attending, I was beginning to realize the fight my grandfather had suffered. Perhaps I was finally, after half a century, ready to forgive.

I think that was what my therapists over the years had been trying to prepare me for: not the horror of finally remembering, but the shock of finally forgiving.

(Continued in "In the Beginning: Part 4 - Addiction Recovery Program")

In the Beginning: Part 2 - Revelations

(The following is a continuation from "In The Beginning: Part 1")

Although the 12-Step Program was written for alcoholics and drug addicts, my church has adapted it for use with other addictions, for which I am eternally grateful. Alcohol and drugs aren't the only things that can destroy lives.

Honesty is the first step in the 12-step program. But before you can admit you are powerless, you have to recognize you have a problem. Ah - that's where a lot of people have problems. In my case, I knew I had a problem - I just thought it was insanity.

I was away at school when all hell broke loose. I ended up going in for counseling, a little afraid the counselor would have me committed. Luckily she didn't think I was quite a crazy as I did. Foolish woman!

I still don't know the truth of what came out of the counseling, and therapists (good therapists) that I've had since have convinced me that I don't need to know. I just have to deal with the consequences.

Suffice it to say, I display the symptoms of an incest victim. I'm terrified of the concept of sex, even intimacy. The boyfriends I've had in the past have slowly given up even trying to hold my hand. Friendships I could maintain, but trust was another matter all together. But while sex frightens and even repulses me, pornography of a painful nature seduces me. Bondage and torture pull me toward them as long as actual sex is not involved - just pain. And acting on those impulses to cause myself pain became a terrible secret that I hid from the world.

I also have almost no memory of my childhood, with only tiny glimpses - flashes really. It used to be my biggest frustration. People would walk up to me and talk to me like we were good friends - only I had no idea who they were and didn't share the memories they were discussing. I'd jump into my "actor" role, nodding my head, trying to pretend like we were actually in the same universe. We'd part with them thinking we'd relived fun times and me frustrated and perplexed by another trip to the Twilight Zone.

The only actual memories that have come back have to do with a grandfather. One was a strong sense of smell: alcohol and tobacco. He was an alcoholic. I understand now. When he was drunk, he did things - tried to molest my sister, tried to molest my mother, had an affair with his sister-in-law - things he would never try when he was sober. I hate alcohol.

The other memory was so upsetting and visceral that it made me physically sick. I don't want any more memories.

Finally, I've come to understand and believe that my memory problems are a gentle gift from my Heavenly Father. (For those of you in AA - my higher power.) I now believe He has taken those memories that I can't deal with and wrapped them in velvet darkness and hidden them away for my protection. I don't need them anymore. What I need is to get over them and get on with my life.

So my journal began many years ago with the first step of honesty - accepting that something happened, something that irrevocably changed me. But it has taken many years for me to get past that realization - to accept this one truth. It isn't in any handbook but it is become my focus in life.

It happened. Bad things happen all the time. It's done and can't be undone. It no longer matters. What matters now is what I choose to do now. Do I choose to pretend that what I am is all someone else's fault? Or do I accept responsibility for my life and make myself into the person I want to be.

I know, that doesn't sound like I'm listening to the first step: "We admitted we were powerless over alcohol-that our lives had become unmanageable;" or my church's version of the step: "Admit that you, of yourself, are powerless to overcome your addictions and that your life has become unmanageable."

I guess it is my version, which I think is the same thing: I admit that of myself, without the help of God, I am powerless to take responsibility for my life and overcome my addictions. My life has become unmanageable, but with God nothing is impossible.

(Continued in "In the Beginning: Part 3 - Getting Through it")

In the Beginning: Part 1

I'm a very good actress. In ancient Greece, the term for an actor was hypokrites, the root for our word hypocrite. Addicts are good at that. And as I said, I am a very good actress. For years, everyone thought I was very in charge of my life - they even thought I was happy. To be honest: I was such a good actress, I even fooled myself a lot of the time.

The problem was the part of the time I couldn't fool myself. During that time, I lived in a black hole of absolute despair that I kept carefully hidden from the rest of the world - along with my addiction. And the awful part was: I couldn't understand why I was so broken, why I was... well... crazy. All I knew was that during those times, I felt like a razor blade was dissecting my heart from the inside. But when you are an actress, you can't let anyone know. So I didn't.

My addiction and I entered what I called my Spockonian period. If I didn't feel emotion, then I couldn't hurt. In fact, the only time I felt any emotion was when I was deep in my addiction. And then I felt guilt and shame, but at least I felt something, I guess.

Usually, when we self-medicate, we are trying to kill the pain. I guess I was trying to kill an emotional pain I hadn't discovered yet. But with my addiction, I was trying to do just the opposite: I was trying to create pain. My addiction started at a ridiculously young age and as I grew older, I tried more creative ways to hurt myself - not harm myself - there is a difference. But my desire for pain absolutely convinced me that there was something very wrong deep inside. All I knew was that, after I had given in, I hated myself with a passion - the limit of the emotion I would allow myself.

Some people would say this was just a choice, but they would be wrong. There was an agony deep in my soul and something dark that I felt a need to punish. And the guilt I felt caused a continual grief that eventually drove me into depression so deep that I finally had to seek help.

Most frustrating was that I had tried over and over and over to stop the behavior and I had won the victory over and over only to have my monster rear its head a year or two later, leaving me bleeding my soul out from my own betrayal and my weakness.

Still, I had no clue as to why I was so broken, why I was so weak. And I certainly didn't consider myself an addict! Depressed yes, addicted no.

So I began a new part of my life.

I started therapy and, for the first time, gained some insight into my downward spiraling life. It was not something I wanted to face, not something that can ever be proved, nor anything now that has to be proved. But it helped me to understand why my life had become a living hell, even though most people around me still thought I was the happy person they saw.

(Continued in "In the Beginning: Part 2 - Revelations)