Huff Puff

I'm really looking forward to meeting with my therapist tomorrow.  (Never thought I'd say that.)  I haven't made as much progress this week as I would have liked but I'm still here.  I'm still trying.  That counts.  I can't weed out all the dandelions in one go.

I'm also looking forward to my Mom's visit for Christmas.  Remember when I was scared?  It's still new and new is often scary.  But the genuine love and concern from my Mom is a life jacket when I'm lost at sea.

I still want to run. I still want to hide.  Wish the pain away instead of leaning into it.  I've tried it.  Doesn't work so well.  I end up crumpled in front of the fireplace waiting for a miracle.

I do see miracles all around me.

I am blessed beyond my capacity to truly comprehend.

And yet.

I yearn for something more.  I know in the 12 step groups one of the biggest things is letting things go.  Letting Go and Letting God.  Recognizing what I can control and what I cannot. I find that it is easy to say and very hard to do.  If I let go what if I get hurt again?

To which I hear Wolf from The 10th Kingdom say, "Well, maybe you won't get hurt. But, huff-puff, you won't get loved either."

It's been a long day.  And I am grateful, SO grateful, for new friends I have found along this way.
Sorry there's not much more to the post.  I don't have much to offer at the moment.
This is my reality.

Still Here

I'm still here.


Which is what I keep telling my husband too. We've had a lot of rough days/nights.  I told him that I have indeed thought about leaving at some point. He asked me after reading some blog posts of other WoPAs who have left or considered leaving.  But that point is not today and not anytime soon unless his behavior says my family/I is/am not safe.  So far so good. Mostly.  He had a slip recently, meaning he gave into addictive behavior but hasn't given up recovery.  It's been a rough week since then.

We have been taking stock of where we are, evaluating progress.  He feels like we are making progress individually but not together as a marriage.  I somewhat agree with that.  I think I have made progress. I can set boundaries and stick to them and feel safe thus feeling empowered in my ability to trust myself.   I have been to a therapist that I have hope can help me in a broader sense.  I think he has made progress.  He is SO much more willing to even look at his emotions and let them out.  It's hard.  He hasn't done it before.  And now he's got a lifetime of emotions to work through.  Some harder than others. He has proven he can do hard things too.  Our marriage relationship is kind of just sitting there waiting for both of us to work some stuff out.

And I'm still here.

I haven't gone anywhere.
I might lock myself in the bedroom sometimes.
But I'm here.
And I'm working.
And I think I'm healing and waiting and loving my dear husband from where I am.  Which is not as close as I'd like. But I don't believe it'll be this way forever.  And that gives me hope.

The great Brene

A friend shared this video by the great Brene Brown (Pronounced Bre-nay).  SO powerful! And I tell you what, I've got some things to work on.  And I love the encouragement I get from this brave warrior.  EMPATHY. Not Sympathy.  Seriously.  I don't even know where to really go with a full response to this video.  But watch it.  20 minutes. Turn it on while folding laundry (which I have slated for the ENTIRE day- I hate getting behind on laundry).


I am afraid of telling people my story. My pain. My life.  Because I am worried they will Sympathize and not Empathize.  That I will be more shamed for my struggles.

But this is me.  My pain.  My struggles.  They are real.  And it is a journey of learning and growing (and many mistakes along the way.)

Where does you lied to me turn into you are a liar?  Our mistakes do not define us.  At least they shouldn't.  Blaming?  Ooooh. I identify with THAT.

So watch it and email me what you think.  Or comment.  Or just enjoy.

Beauty in scars.

Scars are dead tissue.  What caused a scar is usually very painful.  Unsightly lines that disrupt the beautiful.  But in their own way, scars are powerful and beautiful.

Scars tell the story of what we have experienced.

I have a scar on one of my knees (correction I have scars on BOTH my knees but only one is from this experience) from when I was in 7th grade.  I was on the cross country team and for practice we'd run a loop that went by the tennis courts.  I tripped and fell hard.  The scar is still there.  Cross country wasn't easy for me.  I don't actually enjoy running to someone else's command but my friend convinced me to join her.  It wasn't something I had confidence in but I persisted anyway.  I never won any prestigious ribbons.  I came in last, pretty much every race.  But I did it.  I have the scars to prove it.

I have a scar on my chin from sliding in the gutter chin first when I was no older than 7.  I had on fancy dress shoes, I don't know if it was a Sunday or if I was just dressing up.  I was out in the front yard tossing the Koosh ball with my brother and it went into the gutter so I dove for it.  Oops.  Didn't have stitches, just a butterfly bandage.  And now a wrinkly scar on my chin and a memory.

I have a scar on the knuckle of my right thumb from a time I baked my best batch of cookies ever and hit my thumb on the top rack pulling them out. I think they were the perfect batch because I never intended to keep them.  I baked them and mailed them to a friend.

I have a scar on the back of my head somewhere.  I can't see it because my hair hides it.  I fell out of a wagon when I was little.  6 maybe?  I was pretending to drive, steer with the handle while others pushed.  The slope of the driveway made me tip.  I did have to get stitches that time.  My friend's mom took them out for me a few days later. I remember being very scared and brave.

I have a scar on my right shin from running up the bleachers and hitting a bench.  It's numb all the way to the bone still and didn't bleed much.  It was embarrassing but I learned the power of laughter to dispel fear.

Scars are ugly.  And beautiful.  For without any scars what would remind us of our stories?

I hope someday, when this one heals I will be able to tell the story of how this scar showed me that I am stronger than I thought possible, more compassionate than I knew.  I hope to find the beauty in this ugly scar.  I'm beginning to see some of it already.  And that is a wonderful blessing.

Stitches

I received some "love mail" today. You see, my dear Mom sent me a package and I got it today.  In it was this book: STITCHES: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair by Anne Lamott.  (click the link-I don't know how to link the picture)

Oh. My. Heavens.

SUCH a WONDERFUL book. Seriously.  Buy it.  I read it with an orange colored pencil in hand and highlighted MANY wonderful passages and quotes.  It's 96 pages long and yes, I read it all in the 6 hours I've had it (which if you do the math is on the slow-ish side of reading, but I promise you I took time to feed my family dinner, left over sloppy joes, and bathe the smallest wee one and put him to bed, sent the other brothers with Daddy on a project, I also let my kids watch Netflix this afternoon.)

My all time favorite quote, it has a heart by it in my book, and perhaps fellow sewers will love this as much as I do;

Sewing is the finger and heart equivalent of putting one foot in front of the other.

So many other quotes I want to share but there's a reason this one stands out.  Remember my Correspondence Course in Self Care? (If not click the link) Those strips of fabric were meticulously crafted into the beginnings of my very own quilt top.  See?

This pattern starts with sewing the strips together at angles to create the LONGEST STRIP OF FABRIC KNOWN TO MAN.  Seriously.  Football field length.  Then you fold in half sewing that strip to itself lengthwise.  Which takes FOREVER.  

This is me hard at work. Just when you think you can't sew another stitch, that you MUST be close to the end you look down and see that you're not even halfway.  It's disheartening.  So fifteen minutes later (not kidding and this is after an hour of making the longest strip known to man) you might have that first strip done.  From there on out it's easy peasy.  The rows double in size each time so the length you have to sew is 1/2 as long.  (Doesn't make sense, I know- but it's not a tutorial on how but the lesson learned.) The agony of that first strip is real.  It is hard.  It is exhausting and butt numbing.  And yet you plod on.  With hope that it won't turn out an ugly mess.  And guess what?  You were right all along.  It's wonderful and far different than you had ever imagined.  

And isn't that our journey through life?  Our journey as WoPAs? Trying to figure out how to plod on with this forever long stitch?  Having to unpick and resew when the pattern gets skiwampus? 

This is a metaphor that I will cling to.  For I've always been a pretty fearless sewer.  And now I'll start applying that to the rest of my life.  

One foot in front of the other. 

One stitch and then another.  Some unpicking.  Some re-sewing.  And a beautiful unknown pattern will reveal itself.  

Little Man Complex

Revelation comes line upon line as we are ready for it.

I'm not worthy.  I am inferior. 

That is what the negative tape in my head has been saying for... I don't know, my whole life?  I don't think I can pinpoint why I feel this way.  Maybe it's a second born thing.  There's not an experience that sticks out in my mind that says, "YES! That's it! The root of my shame and self-loathing."  There are particular experiences over the years that stand out in reaffirming my own belief, unbeknownst to anyone involved.  But for a long time I remember feeling this way.

Mind you, as a child I was bubbly.  Happy.  Always smiling.  People remember me as a jovial, carefree child. I do remember being happy and care free.  But I don't know if I learned to wear the mask well as a child or if that was a skill acquired later in life to hide my pain from people who might hurt me further.

Being a teen was rough, as it often is.  My family life was flipped when my parents divorced.  I never felt accepted among the kids at church, except for the rare few who are still precious friends to this day.  So I hung out with people who accepted me.  I showed them the real, raw, broken me and they held me close and loved me anyway.  It always saddens me to think that we've somewhat parted ways but I will always treasure the genuine feedback and support I received from them.  My relationship with my Dad fell apart (what was left to fall apart) when my parents divorced and he quickly remarried.  It was messy.  For years.  It's better now, but mostly because I have come to accept it for what it is, not that much has changed over the years.  Some, yes, but not much.  There are so many incidents that come to mind in my broken relationship with my Dad that reinforced my mentality that I was inferior, lesser.  Wounded, I would return to the safety of my Mom's house (or just her voice) and she would tell me what my core knew: I am worthy and worth loving.  I am important.  I belong.  That's not to paint my Mom as a saint and my Dad as a devil but more often than not Mom was safe and Dad was not, emotionally.

When I was a junior in high school (parents split the summer before) my Dad remarried.  The mom of one of my friends then became my stepmom.  We weren't very close but had been when we were younger.  Did you ever dream of your parents marrying your best friend's parents so you could be sisters?  I did.  Parent Trap.  Thanks Disney.  Reality didn't work like that for us.  It became a forced blending of families and none of us were allowed to have any opinions contrary to what the parents had decided.  Or we would be met with huge amounts of guilt.  And more infusions of "I am not worthy. I am inferior." I never felt like I had a right to say anything at church because our family wasn't one of the "old" families of First Ward.  I didn't have an in with the ones who were.  We were friends, but only superficially.  We were poor.  Talk about feeling "I am not worthy.  I am inferior."  Society chalks that one up to a given, except for the few who fought and worked their tails off and didn't believe that nonsense to make something of themselves.  But I was not one of them.

College was an interesting time.  I felt some of this negativity early on, but I also learned that I was worthy.  I could do great things.  I could do hard things.  This confidence is probably part of what my husband was attracted to (I hope.)  I had my moments of self doubt.  "Does he really like me?"  which I think are normal.  I decided that he did and I was thrilled.  The rest is history, as they say.  I do find that old enemy around though.  Driving, I always think other people are judging me of how I drive. (Why are we so critical of people's driving anyway?)  I find myself giving in to this thinking more often than I realized.  Lately it's been worse with coming to grips with the massive amounts of pain I have been avoiding.  I'm hurt. Raw. Bleeding.  I don't show many for fear that they'll stick their fingers in the wound or point out that it's oozing and infected (like I didn't already know).  I hide. I don't think many of my inlaws even know many of my real opinions on things because I'm so afraid of the rejection or talking behind my back (as they often do about others so why not me) that I either shut up or find myself agreeing with them because (I think) they think I am unworthy of holding my own opinion that might be contrary to their own.

My inner voice tells me not to believe that "I am not worthy.  I am inferior."  My inner voice says that's bullschnit.  It's hard to hear sometimes.  That inner voice.  She's getting stronger though.  And now that I recognize the faulty thinking maybe I can break past it.  Thank heaven's for Addo.  What a beautiful blessing.  (One of the lessons brought all this to the forefront.)

As the wonderful, Brene Brown points out, "I am worthy of love and belonging." 
And the great Dr. Skinner reminds, "I am good.  I am strong and I have much to offer."
And from dear Scabs, "I am brave."
And one altered from What About Bob, "I am good. I am great. I am wonderful." 

I sure hope having it here in written form will help me remember. 

The Love of God

Woman is God’s supreme creation. Only after the earth had been formed, after the day had been separated from the night, after the waters had been divided from the land, after vegetation and animal life had been created, and after man had been placed on the earth, was woman created; and only then was the work pronounced complete and good.Of all the creations of the Almighty, there is none more beautiful, none more inspiring than a lovely daughter of God who walks in virtue with an understanding of why she should do so, who honors and respects her body as a thing sacred and divine, who cultivates her mind and constantly enlarges the horizon of her understanding, who nurtures her spirit with everlasting truth. God will hold us accountable if we neglect His daughters. He has given us a great and compelling trust. May we be faithful to that trust.~President Gordon B. Hinckley 

Elder Richard G. Scott spoke at a broadcast for Stake Conference today (twice a year gathering of church member to hear from local leadership- this time also had a broadcast portion).  He referenced some quotes that touched my heart.  We are vastly important to our Father in Heaven.  He has not forsaken us.  He cherished us.  ME.  I am important.  I am beloved.  I am cherished.  

"May we be faithful to that trust."

Ouch.  What happens when those we love are not faithful to that trust?  It hurts.  A LOT.  Elder Scott also quoted President Thomas S. Monson:

"Tears inevitably follow transgression.  Men, take care not to make women weep, for God counts their tears."

We are loved. I am loved.

I know, too that my Father in Heaven loves my sweetheart.  That he has given us all the opportunity to restore trust, to ask forgiveness and to be forgiven.  What a tender mercy that is.  Forgiveness is not the same as trust.  Forgiveness is the willingness of the heart to let go.  Trust is a willingness to put that same heart back into the hands of my husband.  I'm not there yet.  But I have hope that I will be.  And I am counted as a daughter of the Most High God.  Incredible.  And incredible how easily I forget.  We are mortal.  We make mistakes.  We hurt other people, even those we love dearly.  And I can feel my heart beginning to soften.

Square 1

My husband pointed something out to me that I think I was hoping to ignore.  But it hurt and I'm sharing it.  Because I don't want it to become shameful.  (Shame hates being spoken you know.)

If we had kept moving forward when we first found the word "addiction" we would be at a 3 year mark.  I say a 3 year mark not "the" 3 year mark because I don't know what 3 years would mean.  3 years where we still denied it for 2 1/2? Or 3 years with real insight and discovery and HEALING.  In that time we moved 7 hours away, in with inlaws, had a baby, moved out, bought a house (fixxer-upper) back in with the inlaws, out again as we continue to work on our house.  Not to mention day to day life.  3 kids.  Extended family weddings and other gatherings.  Hectic. There's been a lot to distract us from the pain.  And so here we are now.  It hurts to be at square one. To feel like the road is so long ahead and we've only just begun.

I know that every journey begins with a single step.
I know that I can only focus on where I am right now.

But sometimes I look at the road.

I see others ahead of me who have found peace and I am sad because that is NOT where I am right now.  Right now I feel like our relationship has so many ups and downs (because I feel the ups and downs personally I assume that's our relationship too).  We had a good day again the other day where I felt like he was actually hearing what I said.  Like he saw ME, the real me not just the shell.  And now I'm back down.  And feeling like I let myself down.  Three years from now our kids will be 5, 7 and 9.  And for some reason that makes it hard for me to breathe.  Which brings me back to the beginning of this blog when I thought it was all about my healing from depression.  I don't know how much is my trauma and how much is my familiar depression.  Good ol' pal.

I'm trying to do self-care and self-comfort.  But again, that's really hard to do when there are three children looking to me to entertain, feed, clothe, listen to etc.

But I needed to put that out there.  That I feel the weight of weariness looking ahead.  And so I'll leave you with one of my theme songs.  Because it always makes me feel better.

Take no thought

I did my first phone in PASG (Porn Addiction Support Group) for women last night.  You can find one HERE.  Where I live there is NOT a support group for family or friends of addicts (of any kind-not just pornography).  I was really sad about that when we moved here because the group we had been in previously was so healing and I was sad to see that stop.  So when my husband mentioned that he was going to do the call in group for men and that they had one for women I was grateful.  (And a little standoff-ish because I don't like being told what to do- but he wasn't telling me WHAT to do- just pointing out an option I missed and for that I am grateful.)  It was different, and a little weird.  But it was positive.  And I needed that. 

Yesterday I didn't want to go to church.  Really, there are many Sundays I just don't want to go.  With three kids and cousins that share our pew (I hate "assigned" seating) it is loud and distracting and stressful and hardly the spiritual uplift I need.  The next two hours I'm in Primary and don't feel I get much out of that either (and I recognize that some of that is on me). But I dreaded going.  45 minutes before I was still in my jammies telling my husband I really just didn't want to go.  I should say I didn't want to go with all the noise and confusion.  I wanted my soul to be uplifted and so often I'm busy wiping noses and shushing children (who are speaking quite loud) that I can't hear that "still small voice".  But I went.  Because I had responsibilities.  And I hoped for a glimmer of uplift.  But mostly because there would be more questions if I didn't go.  

I was fasting for myself, for my healing, for hope.  I wanted to block out my life and listen to the Spirit.  Part of the meeting was distracting, some of it was thank-a-monies, and some were sad stories of sad lives.  But to start off the meeting a friend got up and bore a beautiful testimony.  He and his family have had a hard year, to say the least.  He has an undiagnosed health problem that is unpredictable.  Some days he'll fall in the kitchen and his wife will have to help him up.  Others he can run 5 miles.  There's no telling when he wakes up which one it will be.  He hasn't worked this last year which has meant that their finances are in dire straights.  His wife is now doing daycare and they're getting by.  Barely.  With his illness because they don't know what it is, they don't know what that means for how long he'll live or if it'll get worse, or if there is any sort of treatment.  And he started his testimony by saying things are so great. GREAT! Not good, or we have our moments. And he acknowledged that has been the hardest year of their lives and looking forward is likely to be as bad or worse.  But they have each other.  They have the Lord.  They have love.  They are scraping by, by the grace of God and the kindness of others.  I can't really describe it.  I'm not doing it justice.  But just know this; it touched me so deeply.  THAT was exactly what I was looking for.  I really wish I could have gone home on that note.  (And I could have but chose not to.) 

Then the day went by and it was ok.  I was surviving it but not feeling the Spirit like I had hoped.  Then it came time for group.  It wasn't as huge a lift as my friend's testimony, but it was positive, and hopeful and uplifting. Rather than falling into the pain and misery and hopelessness.  I didn't get the quote exactly but someone said, " Let Heavenly Father have the pain of the past and the fear of tomorrow and live in today." And that was what I needed to hear.  I am grateful for the tender mercies that allow me to feel hope when I didn't know I could. This is a path I never would have imagined, but I have found that usually the most beautiful vistas are found after long and weary journeys.  I look forward to that.  

And I will try to remember what my Savior said, "Take no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself." Matthew 6:34

Triggers come in all sizes.

3:40 the red numbers say.

ScrtichScratch.

Ugh. Seriously?!

A mouse again.

It triggered me. BIG TIME.  I wasn't expecting that. Maybe it was being so tired that allowed me to follow the trigger to anger.  Whatever it was, I went there.  Yet ANOTHER thing I can't control. AGH! So mad.  I could tell I needed to calm down.  I was already starting to get a tension headache, and my back, which already hurt, was now hurting in new places.  So. Mad.  I hate the stupid little rodents.  I hate their sneakiness.  I hate the deceptions- "Oh no, we don't live here- what that poop? That's not mine- must be from some other mouse." F'real? I laid awake FUMING for a full hour until it started to dissipate.

Husband asked is I was mad at him.

"No. The mouse triggered me."

I feel stupid for even admitting it- but there it is.
And so no, I wasn't directly mad at Husband.  But I was mad that this mess was brought into my life.  And that is on him.  And so I was kind of mad at him too.  And THAT is on me.

I did finally fall asleep- sort of.  Husband got up around 5ish- I don't know what time it was because I didn't want to look at the clock again.  He decided that if he had any hopes of getting his scripture study in this morning he'd better get up. I'm proud of him for keeping on his track though I was derailed.

So now here I am, tired, at 8am, sore and in my footie pajamas with a hatred for a wee bitty rodent and a giant elephant named Lust.  And I own that.

A mouse triggered me folks.

It's going to be a long road ahead.



And you'd better believe that the first thing I do when I get outta these footie pajamas is to go buy more mouse traps and poison.  No mercy in battle.  (And with the addict- no mercy with addict- mercy is reserved for HUSBAND.)

Love songs

I found this song tonight and it touched me.
I'm not sure if it's a song to my husband or what I wish he'd say to me.

Higher Windows:

For all the times I tried for this
And every chance at you I missed
I've been known to go my way but I confess
It made me miss you more

I drew my line across the sand
And set my flag in no man's land
But here I am, the one man band
With a song that's meant for two

And there is a light from a higher window
Shining down on you tonight
And the music floats on the breeze
Bringing an easier time

And all of our cards are on the table
Tell me what you want to do
Just don't tell me that it's too late
For me to love you

How perfect we were meant to be
Our warm and silent symmetry
It's times like these when all, all we need
Is to be reminded

Whoa, and I have flown a thousand miles
To empty rooms and crowded aisles
And we went from cathedral bells
To show and tell, and wish you wells

And I, I still look at you

And I am blinded, I am blinded

Because there is a light from a higher window
Shining down on us tonight
And the music floats on the breeze
From an easier time

And all of our cards are on the table

Tell me what you want to do

Just don't tell me that it's too late
Don't tell me that it's too late now

Just don't tell me that it's too late
For me to love you

Read more: Josh Groban - Higher Window Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

Correspondence Course in Self Care

Today I received two packages that brightened my day.

In two acts of self care this past week I ordered a picture of Christ that i love and prepared the frame with quotes i love.
The little frames along the edges read:
"Be STILL and KNOW"
"If for a while the harder you try the harder it gets, take heart. So it had been with the best people who ever lived.-Elder Holland"
"You are STRONGER than you realize. You are more CAPABLE than you can imagine. -President Uchdorf"
"<3 it is BRAVE to close your doors."

The other package was strips of fabric for ME. I'm making myself a quilt. Because it's about time,  dangit. I usually put everyone and everything else first. I contemplated making a quilt for someone else (especially when the fabric I wanted and had then set my heart on seemed to be sold out everywhere except Massachusetts). But then decided that it's my turn. So I paid extra for my fabric and talked myself down from feeling guilty.  I'm really looking forward to a quilt class on Wednesday. I can't wait to show you the progress. (As I work on my own healing, I feel the same way.)
I highly recommend you look into your own Correspondence Course. (The picture was $7 from LDS bookstore on Amazon.)

You is kind. You is smart. You is important

Strong.  Smart.
You are strong. You're smart.

(You is kind. You is smart. You is important.)


"You have always amazed me with how strong you are."
"You've always been smart."
"I have always been proud of your strength and beauty."
"I have seen you rise above SO MANY things in your life, and I admire you so much for your faith, courage, resilience and dedication to the Lord."

People have actually said these words to me.

And yet, I find them hard to believe.

A part of me, deep down, has always whispered these things too.
But I have such a hard time believing her.

My inner self.

These are just things on my mind right now as I work on healing.

A girl with fighting for!

(Thanks Disney- now the song from Mulan is stuck in my head)

I find myself wondering, "Am I worth fighting for?" This seems to be a reoccuring theme in my life.  When I'm low I always wonder the same thing: What's the point? Am *I* worth fighting for?

 I was looking through my journals recently and came across one from a particularly rough year.  My first real boyfriend.  My dad had just remarried and there was a LOT of drama mixed in with that.  Friends that turned into step sibling.  The forcing of a front that says, "We are unified and we are happy." Which I never really bought because I was miserable.  His house never felt safe for me to be who I am without judgement and when I finally put my foot down and chose to live with my mom- hell broke loose.  I learned what a real guilt trip looks like.

I'm afraid of what hell is going to break look when I put my foot down in my marriage.  When I say, "These are my boundaries, and these are the consequences for broken boundaries." And then when I follow through.  Because that scares me.  I've never been very good at it.  I usually give in.  I ride the guilt trip train and regret where it takes me.

And so I'm stuck where I don't want to be and I'm the only one that can get me out of this mess.

And YES! I'm worth fighting for.  HELL YES! Even if I'm the only one fighting.



Which makes me kind of sad to think I'm the only one willing to fight for me.

Fierce emotions

I was looking on Pinterest today for yellow/grey bedroom themes and found this.  It made me sad.  If you can't read it the accent pillow reads, "Fiercely Loyal".  It made me sad to think I don't feel that way in our marriage.  I hope for it but the only fierce things I feel right now are usually sadness or anger.  Maybe it is a goal to strive towards.  But for now I'll allow myself time and space to be sad.

Crunchy vs. Creamy: A lesson in Self Care

We're talking Peanut Butter here. 

Crunchy vs. Creamy

I like smooth, stick your mouth shut kind of PB.  Everyone in my house prefers Crunchy.  Which I tolerate, but long for the smooth gooey peanut buttery goodness every time I'm at the grocery store buying a tub of crunchy peanut butter to stave off WW3.  There were many tears shed in the past over only having crappy creamy on a PB&J.  So I gave up the fight.  Money was tight and we could only afford one kind of PB.  Or so I told myself. 

I wasn't important enough and this was such a trivial matter.  PEANUT BUTTER people! 

And so last week, in an attempt at self-care, I bought Creamy Peanut Butter.  

Just for me.  

And no I'm not sharing.  

Waiting and Wading

After my drama yesterday of finding things in youtube histories and my shaking anger (so badly that I pulled something out between my shoulder blades and can't turn my head to the left because of a pinched nerve-no one can tell me this doesn't affect me) I sent hubby an email (because a chat for this sort of thing wouldn't be appropriate at work) and we talked when he got home from work.  (More in depth after the kids had gone to bed).  I was SO afraid that he would try to deny it.  At one point he did downplay a bit saying that he didn't remember every incident and the date they happened on (I get that- but don't down play this mister). So we talked and talked and talked (we're like stationary pioneers) I read him the NY times article and that seemed to shed some light on things.  Lots of apologies.  I appreciate apologies and perhaps I'll truly accept them when I see the change.  He's trying. He is trying to be honest with me. Right now I just kind of have to wait.  Because it takes TIME for him to prove that he means what he says.  And because I've been either so deeply burned or burned too many times I'm waiting.  Waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Waiting for the shoe to not exist.  Waiting to see what he chooses to do the next time he is triggered.

I do wonder why I felt like he was an honest guy when we first started dating.  Was he?  Or was I too trusting? What's wrong with me that I would seek him out?  And I really hate that.  I hate that now I have to second guess my whole life with him.  The last 8 years.  8 years full of what ifs. How would I have acted or reacted had I known? Was there anything to know?  Does it matter? It is past.  Over.  Then why am I dealing with it now?!

I don't want you readers to think that I hate my husband.  I don't.  I do hate the lies. And I have been betrayed.  And that is deep.  I want to believe that he's a good guy.  That he really IS the guy that I love.  Right now it's hard to sort out how much is the addiction and how much is him and what that all means.  And it's really hard for me to see through the rage.  I'm so much more angry than I've EVER been.  Which is normal.  (So glad I'm not just crazy.) Thanks to AddoRecovery and some new friends I know that. So it's hard.  I'm also waiting for the anger to pass.  For me to have waded through all of it to the other side.  What's on the other side of the anger pool of muck?  I don't know.  And not knowing is a little scary too.

These things take time.

These things take time, and time....well....where do I buy some of that stuff?  Can't I outsource to India or something?

I feel like this week I pretty much don't get a lot of time to work on recovery.  I love listening to talks and videos about healing and recovery but I can't really do that.  I like to listen because I can do other things (like dishes or laundry) while I listen.  Mind guiding instead of hating the chore I'm working on.  But I can't do that with my sweet 4 year old following me around.  He listens.  He is perceptive.  And much of this is big grownup stuff that he shouldn't have to worry about.

I spent last weekend at The Togetherness Project and it was glorious.  I spent all of Saturday getting in time I needed to connect and gain some insight and validation.  I'll probably write a legit blog post about it later.  Because that's the problem.  Now I'm back to real life.  I have 3 boys, 2, 4 and 6 and they keep me busy (as total strangers like to point out). And my husband and I are in a radio play this week that takes pretty much all the time after dinner (and I have to find a sitter on TOP of all my regular chores and hope the house isn't TOO much of a mess for a sitter).  But I digress.  Slightly.  I want healing and recovery and hope and I want it SO BADLY.  Right now I also want a maid and NAP and a laundry fairy.  But mostly the nap. But not a "Dangit my kid is crying, I wonder if I could catch 5 more minutes.....CRASH! Guess not" kind of nap. One that is actually productive and where I wake up feeling truly rested and ready for my daily battles.

But for now- I'll "make it" through today and then tomorrow and the next day. No rest for the wicked they say.  Ha. Thanks anonymous "they".  I don't feel I did any wicked to deserve no rest but there ya go.

Hopefully I'll find some sanity in the days ahead.  If not, maybe a Dr. Pepper truck could kindly install a tap at the house.

Catch ya on the flipside.


Whenever that is.

Yard Waste

I hope you'll notice the precise cropping of the photo labeling the trashcan as BS.  I thought it fit. 

     We have a bush in front of our house that I'm not really a fan of.  I can't bring myself to tear it out until I find something I like better so for now it stays.  But I don't like it.  It gets very overgrown and Sideshow Bob looking.  (Forgive me, but that is truly what I think when I see it.) 

(Image courtesy of Wikipedia)

So today I was done. I was done putting up with the ugly.  I was done pretending I like it- or at the very least don't dislike it.  I got the gloves, the pruning shears and took to work.  It was some hard work.  Pokey parts.  Sneezing: that was unexpected.  Looks from people driving by wondering why on earth I'm hacking at that bush. Right now the bush looks uglier than before, but I know it'll grow back.  

That's what we're doing in our marriage right now.  Hacking at some of the ugly stuff so there's room for fresh greenery to grow.  And labeling it for what it is, namely B.S. It's pokey, and hurts.  Sometimes it makes me feel unexpected things.  People who don't know my feelings might wonder why I'm hacking at our marriage.  

So it has room to grow.  And because I'm tired of looking at it and pretending I like it like this.  

My Fleas

So I've been thinking a lot lately about what is this preparing me for? There is a higher purpose- there is something to be gained from this crazy hard trial. There HAS to be. I also keep thinking about group. Maybe I won't have a support group down here- maybe not now- maybe not ever BUT I can't help but wonder if it isn't preparing me for the missionary service I have longed for since a teen. If this is how I share my testimony of the gospel. I don't know that'd I'd ever be called to be a group facilitator (if that is what they are called) or if it is simply me putting myself out here on the vastness of the internet, sharing my belief (and sometimes doubts and even disbelief that's it's meant for ME) of the Power of Christ's Atonement. I don't know what this all means. But if this is part of the preparation- this is so far from anything I ever imagined.

In the part I'm reading in Rhyll Croshaw's book right now she talks about the power of gratitude to change your life. Well, right now, I could use a life change. She recounts the story from The Hiding Place by Victor Frankl, where sisters Betsie and Corrie Ten Boom (Ten Boom is their last name) are in a Nazi prison camp. The barracks they are assigned to are notoriously infested with fleas. Corrie is discouraged (to say the least) and Betsie sees the blessings and thanks God for the fleas, though she didn't know why at the time. But the fleas were a blessing because they kept the guards out of the barracks and spared these women from abuse, harassment and worse things. They were a gift from God.

So how are my fleas going to be a gift from God? Certainly I don't mean to say, "YAY me! I love this trial!" But I am wondering what blessings can come from it. Victor Frankl said, 

"Suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning."

So I'm looking for meaning and in the mean time TRYING to be grateful.  And I still suffer a great deal right now but I have hope that this will all get better. One. Day. One. Moment. At. A. Time.
Here are 5 things I am grateful for today:
1- That my husband is willing to fight for us.
2- That I have a few true and dear friends to lean on for encouragement. I know not everyone has that.
3- That I do believe that God numbers the hairs of my head and loves THIS sparrow.
4- That my children have a large support group of family and friends who love them.
5- That I can pray whenever the heck I want.  Out loud or in my head/heart.  He still hears me.

I freaked out, a little.

I might have freaked out a little just now.  My 6 year old is home from school sick with a lovely cough that will probably sit in his lungs for a week or so. That's just how it works.  He was watching Netflix on my phone and I let him (and his little brother).  Then he needed to use the bathroom.  He walked into the bathroom, holding the phone, not watching where he was going, shut the door, LOCKED it (which I assume was to keep the toddler out- he's very curious).  He didn't think anything of it.

But I did.  And I tried to act as calm and cool as I wasn't.  I told him no movies while he's going potty.  He can finish it afterwards.  "Pause your show and slide the phone under the door please." I felt like I was insane.  Innocent.  Barney for goodness sakes.  But the fear that it will turn into habit shook me.  That when he's older and has his own phone it will be an easy access point for him. And habit at that point.  He handed it over no problem.  But I'm still shaking.

I wasn't expecting that trigger today (or ever really) but I worry that this is all going to hit the fan and spread to our children.  So I'm proud of myself for acting on my instinct and for keeping calm and collected.  But it shook me.

I'm well aware of the "what if it fell in the toilet" argument and while gross- it doesn't phase me.  What is far more gross, in terms of size of the matter and content, is looking up porn, or maybe not outright porn but music videos or this or that.  I do think my 6 year old is a normal six year old and doesn't even really know about all that yet.  I hope.  But I know I'll be discussing this with him on his level soon. And that is also grossly scary.  

Be Still

Sometimes prayers are answered in different ways.
I love music.  I forget that sometimes.  I have always loved Hilary Weeks.  One of my personal scriptures has is Psalms 46:10 "...Be still and know that I am God."  The first verse in this chapter reminds us that "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." In Doctrine and Covenants it is repeated, "...all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know that I am God."

Likewise the hymn "Be Still My Soul" speaks to me every time.  I often hum or sing it when I'm discouraged.  The lyrics are simply beautiful.

1. 1. Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side;
   With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.
   Leave to thy God to order and provide;
   In ev'ry change he faithful will remain.
   Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heav'nly Friend
   Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
2. 2. Be still, my soul: Thy God doth undertake
   To guide the future as he has the past.
   Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
   All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
   Be still, my soul: The waves and winds still know
   His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.
3. 3. Be still, my soul: The hour is hast'ning on
   When we shall be forever with the Lord,
   When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
   Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
   Be still, my soul: When change and tears are past,
   All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
4. Text: Katharina von Schlegel, b. 1697;
   trans. by Jane Borthwick, 1813-1897
   
   

This is a beautiful version by Alex Boye. 

Today I actually cracked open my scriptures and began reading in the New Testament (by far my favorite).  Christ's Sermon on the Mount where he gave the beatitudes left me wondering which verse he was talking to ME in today.  We can all change.  Some days we are meek. Others we are merciful. Often in this process of discovery and hurt and healing,  I am among those that mourn, and I shall be comforted.  What a blessing. I'm still looking for the strength to get through each day.  But I am learning to take things One. Day. At. A. Time.  I'm not very good at it yet.  But here's to today and beautiful music.  

Hearts in a Mailbox

My heart is on paper in a mailbox waiting.  

Just waiting. 

To be opened. 

To be read. 

To be splashed on by the tears of my mother.  

My mom.  Who doesn't know.  Not yet.  

And I'm scared.  And anxious.  And sad.  

So my heart is in a mailbox and my bum is on pins and needles.  

Waiting.  

Waiting. 

It's very uncomfortable.  

Broken Bows

Talk about being close to the spirit.  My baby sister is serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She doesn't know about my personal pain. This all consuming trial.  And yet here are her words from an email she sent home. I hope she doesn't mind me sharing them with you.

One thing that's kind of been a theme for the week is that so many people are fighting a really hard fight. One of the men we work with just had his cancer come back, another recently had a heart attack. Others are fighting through addictions, divorce, or death. And I've repeatedly been so humbled to see the faith they have. Even in devastating times, they're trying to hard to cast their burdens upon the Lord. One thing I've learned more about in my studies this week is how the Lord helps to strengthen us in these desperate times. In 1 Nephi 16, Nephi's bow breaks, and his family has no way to obtain food. There were many of them, and they literally faced starvation. Of course they were all mad and scared, even the prophet Lehi lost his faith for awhile. Still Nephi remained faithful. But despite his remarkable faith, the Lord didn't take Nephi's problem away. Instead, Nephi had to use the knowledge he already had, and listen to the Spirit to receive the further guidance he needed to build a new bow and know where to go to find food. The Lord doesn't just take away our problems because we trust Him. But He will give us the strength and knowledge to keep going. In times of grief and heartbreak, He might not erase those feelings, but He will help us move forward. Even in my first couple weeks here I'm experiencing it in my own life as well. And it's scary. But He will be there, and He does know exactly what you're experiencing.

Don't we all break our bows sometimes? (I think sometimes rather than my bow breaking from use- it breaks from misuse, disuse, or simple fits of anger where I whack it on a rock.) Wonder how on Earth we are going to survive?  And yet the Lord shows us the way.  The Spirit whispers to our souls, "Hang in there."

Oh the river of tears.  Catches me off guard sometimes.  That I am loved.  That my Savior is just that. MINE.   Thanks SisterGirl for your wise words.

Do you believe?

There are many links.  If you have a minute please take a look.  If you don't have a minute- come back and read them.  


"Believest thou in the power of Christ unto salvation?...If thou believest thou canst be healed." -Alma 15: 6,8

"Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief." -Mark 9:24

HERE is a link to the LDS Addiction Recovery Program.  I just found the site and it is beautiful.

These two scriptures sum up my hope and my fear that I don't fully believe, that I don't understand enough to believe.

There is more my soul longs to say.  I'll let it simmer for a bit- like soup- it usually comes out better if I wait.

Better Days.

Free baby food jars can change one's outlook.

No, really.

So today has been a better day anyway BUT I think I'm right about free crafting materials.  It gets the creative juices flowing and THAT is a good thing.

It's also payday and I am reminded again what a blessing it is to be able to take care of our family's needs.

I slept better last night.

I told my husband (reluctantly) that I couldn't sleep if he was touching me because I didn't trust him to behave.  Pretty crazy.  Crazy being that I chose to be honest about not trusting him.  THAT was huge for me.  A little step.  But a giant leap.

I'm in the process of reading Rhyll Croshaw's book What Can I do About Him Me? It is a hard reality that my husband is an addict and I am definitely mourning the loss of my "happily ever after" marriage.  I wasn't a dummy- I knew marriage is full of hard work and bumps.  I knew that pornography would be one of those bumps.  I didn't expect it to be Mt. Everest.  I want to get to a place where I can forgive (for my own selfish need to be free of that weight) and to do that I pray. A lot. Like, all the time.  I read.  I research.  I think. I process.  Sometimes I take a break from processing and just blast Kelly Clarkson, which the kids seem to think is awesome.  So today is better.  Maybe the rain is cleansing.  Maybe it is just fill up reservoirs for later.  But I'm so grateful today is better.

I stinkin' love Kelly Clarkson.

Change it up.

Reading blog posts of other WoPA is comforting and inspiring and exhausting.

I had a good weekend. Connected more with my husband- got some REAL responses from him.

Lots of spiritual uplift and encouragement.

Some frank discussions about boundaries.

And yet I'm still feeling numb.  

This blog post about Dead Hearts and Resurrection  hits close to home.  Right now I'm struggling because I want SO BADLY to work on MY healing and recovery.  But I find it near impossible when I don't even have a quiet moment to THINK.

There is no such thing as quiet at our house.  3 boys.  If by chance it is quiet, you'd better investigate because there are big things going down.  I don't sleep well. I can't remember a time when I did.  I have physical pain a lot that I feel is directly liked to my emotional ailments.

Poignant lesson from my crying (*more whine than cry) 4year old.
Mom: What's wrong?
4year old: I just keep getting hurt.
Mom: Then do something different.


Let's reverse it for a minute.
God: What's wrong?
Crying Me: I just keep getting hurt.
God: Then do something different.


My thoughts are jumbled. My children just escaped out the back door in their PJs.  I'm tired, and lonely, and sad.  I don't know HOW to find the energy/strength/courage to do something different.  Or what that different would be.  I would really like to take a step away from parenting so I can work on me and be a better parent.  Because survival mode is important in a crisis- but life lived in crisis makes four a lousy life.  I KNOW I am robbing my kids of a mom who is there. With it.  Who genuinely cares.  (I care, but not like I should.) I am robbing myself of life. I'd like to say I'm robbing my husband of a loving caring spouse, but I already feel like *I* am the one that lost that.

I need my Mom.  Which is hard.  Because I haven't told her yet.  I don't know how.

This weekend was mostly a nice change of pace.  I had my husband home.  I had inspiring talks to listen to. We visited with family and I still felt largely like an impostor because I can't tell them of my hurt.  I don't trust them.  I find there are few (if any) who I do trust these days.

Ugh. Not in a good place.  I HATE this emotional rollercoaster!

A good reminder.

WoPA (Wives of Porn Addicts)

"I think Pete and I are both heartbroken that we don't have a real connection between us.  For so long we have looked to each other to meet our needs.  [Forgive me Harriet!] But we have expected so much of each other and been so hurt.   I wanted his recovery so much it consumed me.  And he wanted my love and admiration so much he felt crazy.  And, for the last few months, we have both been incapable of offering what the other was so desperate for." -Jane @ http://hisstrugglemystruggle.blogspot.com/  

But then I'm torn because I kind of want him to feel what I feel. I want him to understand what this is doing to me. And I feel sorry for him. I feel sad for him. He is really struggling and is afraid of what could happen to our marriage, and I really can't be encouraging right now. There is a line. I don't know what it is, but there is one. I am dedicated to keeping our marriage intact and upholding my covenants, but really how hard ishe trying? I know there are victories for him in fighting the addiction, but the losses are what will destroy us and him. 

He told me last night he doesn't want the addiction to define him. I told him it doesn't have to, but he has to choose that. Right now, he seems to be letting it define him. He has to fight hard. I have to fight hard. And we have to fight together. 

Addiction sucks. It really does. I'm trying not to let this bring me down, but it's exhausting. Week after week. Day after day. When will I completely go crazy? It's bound to happen, right? I guess not if I can keep turning to the Atonement. 

This is just hard. While I am grateful for how we have grown and the beauty that lies in our relationship, I do miss the innocence I thought we had. -Marie L. @ http://12stepswithchrist.blogspot.com/

THIS entire post. From THIS wonderful blog. 


A few wise words from women like me.  They said it. I felt it.  So I thought I'd share. 

I Take That Back.

I'm not an addict. Or a co-dependent.  The terminology is so new and there are conflicting ideas.  I'm not either of those.  I have experienced TRAUMA.  THAT is what my symptoms are.  Why I feel like I'm going crazy.  Why I feel like I should trust but can't. Not yet. Not right now. But I do have hope that it will come.  Some fear that it won't.  But I'm doing what I can for ME. And it's hard to let go that I can't control him.

From the First Addo Recovery lesson:

Emotional ups and downs are expected, and the paradoxical experience of anger coupled with a desire to connect, is common. These feelings create confusion and pain, resulting in polarized emotions, possibly making you feel out of control at times.

Bingo.

I'm not crazy.
I'm traumatized.

This first lesson was big for me.  I know I'm not alone in this battle but I didn't understand that my response is actually what the majority of women feel like.  I'm normal.

This all brings out a lot of issues for me and the biggest one I see right now is Boundaries.  I need boundaries to keep myself safe.  I can trust my husband when he shows me trustworthy behavior.  And I still need to have boundaries in place while I don't feel emotionally safe.  Now how to go about that? I'm not totally sure. In the past my natural response has been to simply say NO when I don't want to do something for whatever reason.  Kissing. Sex. Other.  I haven't always been stalwart on maintaining that NO.  And then I am hurt that I let myself down.  But I need CLEAR definitive boundaries with natural consequences.  They are not punishments for him (though it might feel like that).  They are safeguards for ME.  And that's how I have to look at it.  My healing is about ME not him.  He's in charge of his healing and I can't make him do anything.  Which is hard for me.  I like to control.  So I'm letting it go and working on me.  Because that's all I can do.

Show Me How Big Your Brave Is

I love this song.  A good reminder to be brave.
To speak words that are hard.


"Brave"

You can be amazing
You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug
You can be the outcast
Or be the backlash of somebody’s lack of love
Or you can start speaking up
Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way that words do
When they settle ‘neath your skin
Kept on the inside and no sunlight
Sometimes a shadow wins
But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

Everybody’s been there,
Everybody’s been stared down by the enemy
Fallen for the fear
And done some disappearing,
Bow down to the mighty
Don’t run, stop holding your tongue
Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in
Show me how big your brave is

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

And since your history of silence
Won’t do you any good,
Did you think it would?
Let your words be anything but empty
Why don’t you tell them the truth?

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
See you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you

Two addicts?

I have got to write some of my thoughts down before I go crazy.

My husband struggles with an addiction to pornography.

I have read blog after blog.  Forums. FB groups. You Tube videos.

I know I'm not alone now.

Which is huge.

But it's all still very raw and scary to me. Which is odd because we've been married 7 1/2 years and I've known the whole time that it's an issue.  But didn't understand that it's bigger than that.  All the people I've talked with and read from suggest boundaries.  Boundaries are what make me feel safe.  I've tried but never had words or encouragement that I was doing what was right for me.  I'm still angry that I even have to have boundaries in the first place.  That I could be so hurt feels like my fault.  It feels like I should have seen it coming.  I should have put up the boundaries to keep myself safe and free from hurt but I didn't so, like a fool, I got hurt.  There's a lot of personal shame that I feel about the whole situation and that kind of pisses me off.  Why am *I* the one that feels the shame when *I* didn't do anything.  I didn't go out and look at other men. I didn't sit and think sexually about someone else. And yet I feel the fool.

So it's hard to reach out.  To get the help and support *I* need because I feel like I should have seen it coming and prevented the pain somehow.  I've always known he's struggled with pornography.  I don't totally understand addiction and the cycle and the chemical side.  I know that addiction runs in families and his parents have struggled with it.  This video hits the heart of the matter though.  I am afraid that I will reach out to the wrong people.  That in the end I will be hurt more.  Like when we told his parents about his addiction and I got bip. Zero. Nothing. They pretty much said, "Thanks for telling us." And left it at that.  Maddening. The few friends I have reached out to have been pretty supportive and I would be lost without them.  Someone else, a family member, that I told- said "Yeah, we struggle with it too." But there was no connection.  No "I feel your pain" like I thought there would be.  So it's hard.

I'm a mess most of the day.  Telling myself that I *HAVE* to get dressed, that I cannot get back in bed and wallow like I want to.  I research and when I hit a raw nerve or feel like "YES! She gets it! I'm not alone and I'm NOT crazy" and then sit at the computer sobbing I wonder how much the kids can handle seeing.  I'm a mess and they know it.  Internally they get that.  So I call it quits before I feel like I'm done.  Wipe away the tears and go make lunch.  Because I still need to do that.  But I really just want to run and cry and get better.  I'm not sure how to balance that with every day life.

There's a term of "co-addiction" that scares me.  I'm not an addict.  He is.

But I might be.

I might be addicted to acting out on the fear because that's what I know.  It's still new.  And I'm offended by the thought that I might be an addict too.  (And usually when there's offense it's because it hits close to home.) More thoughts on that as I figure out what it even means.

Wise old elephant.

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook.  Just what I needed today so I'm passing it along. 

Soul Showers

Pitter patter of raindrops on leaves and the roof.  Crack of thunder.  Cool breeze flowing through the open window.  The rumble of the thunderstorm outside my window seems to match my thoughts lately.  I keep thinking about all of the things that I have to work on, to figure out.  Maybe the rain will cleanse my canvas and help to erase my mistakes.  This rainfall is an answer to prayer in our drought stricken land.  Maybe my own storm is the answer to my pleas for help and healing.

The rain fills our reservoir. Hopefully we will have enough to sustain further hard times. In the middle of my own drought I have depleted my own source of nourishment.   My soul reservoir has been low for a while now.  I could use this storm to help replenish me.

I am trying to walk the line of being true to myself while being scared that if I am truly myself I will be rejected.  My mom always tells me to feel the fear and do it anyway.  Sometimes that's the hardest thing to do.

Dream? I'd like some sleep first.

Today is a little better-which gives me hope that things can keep moving forward.

Good friends are priceless.  I talked with a few friends when I was feeling low and one suggested that I do something outside of Mommyhood.  To not forget who I am.  School, talent, hobby.  Something.  Just for me.  My husband has said the same thing and is very encouraging and supportive.  Problem is...I don't now WHAT I would want to do.

Sleep. That sounds lovely.  Craft.  If only my crafting space were well organized and I didn't have to share it with other storage. (Though that's just me being whiny.) I would LOVE to sew more.  For myself- not projects for other people.  I love making things for other people but the last time I created something for myself?  I honestly cannot remember.  I used to whip out skirts or make little things on the fly.  I think the last thing I made was a wallet for myself that I love.  Feb 2011. 2 1/2 years ago.

But where to begin? I feel guilty that my craftroom is a mess.  And it's hard to get it just right with 3 littles running around. Maybe this weekend I can wade through and work on it. Maybe. After all- there is hope.