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 - The Savior's compassion

Wow. Isn't it amazing how easy it is to get off track? Okay, I've had a great excuse. I was 1/2 a continent away from home, attending a conference, without a computer, etc. etc. etc. But as I sit here focusing on this entry, I realize that it wasn't just my blog that suffered. Sure, I only got two entries last week, but I WAS majorly busy. It just hit me though that, although I took my scriptures with me, I never read them. I've completely blown my entire pattern and I'm sitting up at 2:30 am trying to do yesterday's blog which means I'm throwing off my sleep pattern again.

One step forward, five steps back.

I have to stand in absolute awe of the Lord's patience. I certainly don't have as much patience with myself as He seems to. Sometimes I have wished that the Lord would just go ahead and damn me and get it over with. But in my heart, I know He still hasn't. I must know that deep inside or I would have given up trying long ago and let my addiction have reign. Since I still fight the battle, picking myself up, I must still have hope in the Atonement - in repentance and forgiveness.

But how do I comprehend laying my sins - my addiction - upon the Savior's back and then looking into His eyes at the judgment day?

To each addict, their addiction is the worst. I'm no different. My addiction is not a physical addiction but moral corruption. I think I could bear the thought of physical addiction better. But then, as they say, the grass is always greener...

This has been one of the hardest things for me - to turn to the Lord for compassion and forgiveness: not because I don't believe He is willing to give it but because I can't bear to face Him when I realize that the suffering He felt in the Garden of Gethsemane was for my addiction.

In my worst moments, I have been in the depths of a black hole as powerful as any in nature. The thought that I have laid that very suffering on Him, is horrible. How do I face Him who knows perfectly my darkest moments - who has suffered the pain of those moments?

I guess it all comes down to being able to forgive myself. Because until we forgive ourselves, we don't really believe that God/a Power Greater than Ourselves can restore us.

Whether it is emotional trauma, addiction, or anger, there must come a time when we let go of the past and "get over it." Really, that is a problem with some therapy: we wallow too long in the pain until it swallows us. I was blessed. My therapists delved long enough to find the pain and then focused on getting past it rather than wallowing in it. Even then it has taken a long time. With addiction, we have to do the same.

Keep moving forward. When we stumble (and we will) get up, and start moving forward again. Don't focus on the failures. Focus on getting back on track.

I'm getting up in the morning and starting my routine again. I will not beat myself about the head and shoulders. I will get back on track before my slipping causes me to derail.

As is always true, tomorrow begins a new day.

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 2 - Hope

The first time I finally stumbled forward toward Step Two, Hope was the one thing I didn't feel. Again, one thing my father taught me was responsibility. You screw up - you take responsibility. My father was a good man and a master teacher.

When I was seventeen (I think - I know I wasn't eighteen yet because I was still a "juvenile") our family car had a little glitch - no speedometer. We also had a standing rule - get a ticket - lose your license. Dad didn't believe in playing around behind the wheel. Well, I figured out a way to work around the broken speedometer. You just make sure you are going a little slower than the rest of the traffic. Right? Should have worked. I was going down a street near our house. I could see the police car sitting, just waiting for ticket-fodder to whip by him. It wasn't going to be me. Following my habit, I was going slower than the other car traveling the same path. He passed the police car, widening the gap between us. Then I passed. The police car pulled out behind me, passed, and began following the other car, flashing his lights. I thought: "Whew. Good thing I was going slower." Unfortunately, when I got up to the intersection where the police car had pulled him over, he signaled me to pull over as well.

"Do you know how fast you were going?"

Dad had taught me honesty, so I honestly answered. "No, my speedometer is broken, so I was going slower than the other traffic."

He informed me that I was still speeding, gave me a ticket with a summons, requiring me to appear in juvenile court. I was sick to my stomach. This meant I would lose my driving privileges and it wasn't my fault. It was my dad's stupid car and his responsibility to make sure the speedometer worked. It wasn't my fault!

And you have to admit - I was right.

But my father taught me a wonderful lesson. Once I had calmed down and gotten over the terror, upset, anger - whatever, we talked. He tried to convince me that I had to go into court and accept the responsibility for my actions.

That did not sit well with me. It was not my fault.

He tried again. He was not going to suspend my privileges because it was his car and he should have fixed the problem. But I had to face the judge because I had chosen to drive the car knowing that the speedometer didn't work. I thought I was clever enough to deal with the problem and I wasn't. I needed to face up to that. I hadn't been experienced enough to gauge my speed and I had to accept the RESPONSIBILITY.

I was furious. By the time I had to appear at court, I was still upset. I was still certain that I was guiltless - innocent. But when I walked into court, I was faced with either making excuses or accepting responsibility and somehow daddy's words had gotten through. I didn't make any excuses. I realized I was driving at an excessive speed, regardless of why. Me. No one else.

The judge decided that my willingness to accept that responsibility was sufficient. There was a three-month period after which, if I didn't get another ticket, my record would be expunged.

So personal responsibility has become a major part of who I am. And suddenly, in Step One, I had to admit that I couldn't do it on my own. I know - they aren't the same thing. But in my mind, they were. And that realization left me hopeless. All my life, I'd known people could count on me. Now I couldn't even count on myself.

Unfortunately, this step, which should have brought light to darkness and relief to pain, was far more difficult than Step One had been.

KEY PRINCIPLE:
"Come to believe that the power of God
can restore you to complete spiritual health."

Alcoholics Anonymous version:
"Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity."

I had absolutely no doubt of that. My faith in the power of God to heal is absolute - for everyone else. How can you trust God to restore you when you don't even realize you are mad at Him? I guess anger was the emotion I had to get through the most: anger at my weakness, anger at my grandfather, anger at me for being angry at my grandfather without perfect knowledge, anger at God, anger at me for being angry at God.... Should I go on?

Pray; read and ponder the scriptures

I loved something I heard in a talk recently. One woman said that her mother told her that it was more helpful to read one scripture every day - consistently - and the read an hour a day for a couple of days and then quit reading because you can't find the time (or burn out or whatever). I like that. First, I dare you to read one scripture. It's almost like the old Lay's potato chip commercials: "Bet you can't eat just one." I'm not saying you'll read an hour because you're too fascinated to put it down (especially during Numbers) but if you don't feel the sharpened pendulum of time bearing down on you, you'll read more than you think. I do. I try to read a chapter a day now and sometimes realize I've read two. It's not a great feat - but it is something. If you are still struggling with your "higher power" do whatever it is you need to do to get closer to that higher power.

My anger was really holding me back on this step. I wasn't alone. There was a kindred spirit in the group. One day the facilitator told us that if we were having problems with faith in God, it didn't matter. He didn't care if our higher power were a screwdriver. That was fine. Work with that. That is paraphrasing quite a bit but the point is: do whatever you have to do to make the connection - to find the faith to be healed. The scriptures are like food for the soul: they help supply little daily portions of faith. Alone it isn't enough. But it sure adds strength.

Believe in God the Eternal Father and in His Son,
Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost

For me then, the challenge came down to this. Oh, I believe in them, all right. My problem was that, I wasn't sure they believed in me.

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?