My Story

I guess I'll go ahead and post my story on my blog.... oh this is scary.

Me:  single, RM, LDS, from active LDS family, daughter of God

Recovering from:  masturbation, codependency, anxiety, fear of blogging about recovery

First I'll explain about sexual addiction, then codependency.  Both are important to my story.

Deep breath...

MASTURBATION

I still haaate that word so I'm getting it out of my fingers now.  It was a large active part of my life from 3 years old til I was 18.  I know I was 3 because I shared a bunk-bed at the time with my brother that year, and I remember him telling me to keep still so he could sleep.  My mom caught me a few times as a kiddo too and also said, "Don't do that."  I didn't know why it was bad, just that it was.  I was way too addicted to take her seriously or give it much thought.  My family situation also left me with loads of alone time to act out all those years, so I did.

When I was 18, freshman in college, with first set of roommates, halfway into the semester and still very active in my addiction, our bishop gave one of those really blunt lessons about inappropriate levels of sexual intimacy.  He was explaining how one can know that they've crossed the line and need to talk to their bishop, and suddenly said something I'd never heard before.  "If you have done anything to stimulate those feelings, anything at all, with a another person or alone by yourself, then you need to come see me."  I sat mouth open in complete shock.  I had always known what I did was "bad" and necessary to hide, but for the first time I began to connect the dots and realized I was doing a SEXUAL thing.  A sinful thing!  An actual really bad thing.  The type of thing I need to confess to a bishop kind of thing!!  I still wasn't sure...  he didn't describe it in detail, and I had never heard about what I was doing in relation to sexual sin before.  At any rate, I felt pretty sure, and decided I should stop doing that thing.  Finally, over a year of trying to stop later, I was able to go long enough (one month) to feel comfortable telling my bishop I had possibly done something bad, and that I was done with it.  I set up an appointment.

Sitting across his desk, I took forever spitting it out.  I still didn't know there was a name for it, so I painfully tried to describe what I had come to talk about, hoping to death that he'd know what I meant.  Though I was VERY nervous about confessing, my biggest fear going in was that I assumed wrong, that I wasn't doing something sexual, and that he was going to look at me like 'What are you talking about?' and I'd be totally humiliated.  I was relieved as I discovered that I assumed correctly as he responded to me seriously.  He still never mentioned a term and I honestly don't remember when I found out what it was called.  As you can probably guess, I was really really naive.  Anyway, we had a great talk.  I felt edified, relieved, and close to the Lord, simply because I knew I had followed His will in seeking to repent through ending a sinful habit and confessing to my bishop.  My bishop gave me an amazing talk to read (Of Souls, Symbols, and Sacraments by Jeffrey R. Holland) about how my body isn't mine, it is the Lord's, and told me the Lord loved me.  He said not to do it again, and that I needed to return to my bishop if I ever did.  He didn't ridicule me at all, and I was just so pleased with that whole meeting when I left.  I wouldn't have to think or feel bad about it ever again.

I happened to be moving a couple weeks later, and soon after the move I was scheduling an appointment with my new bishop.  I saw him a couple times, after each slip.

Then... a whole 18 + months of sobriety during my mission!!  24/7 companions are handy.  Plus I'd been to the temple and made covenants.  I was dedicated for life and finally felt free from the habit!  ...and then I came home from my mission.  Slipped.  Confessed to a third bishop a couple more times... this time feeling much more guilt because I was endowed.  I ended up moving again and found myself with a bishop who absolutely loved me and tried to get all the best guys in the ward to date me.  He called me to teach gospel doctrine.  He told me every time we were alone that I was one of his special ones, one of his favorites.  I appreciated him for that, but felt afraid to disappoint him; he seemed to believe I was perfect.  I never told him about my next slips.

It was during this time I had a mental break down.  Panic attacks, anxiety, and depression raged.  I became the crazy mess I'd promised myself I'd never be.  I believe the Lord knew it was coming because a month previous I felt strongly that I should quit my job.  Good thing, because my anxiety didn't allow me to make it through my classes sitting still, let alone a 4 hour shift on the phones.  As my mind clouded with darkness and extreme fear, prayer and scripture study seemed to have zero effect for anything good.  Only guilt.  Why would I want to pray when I only feel worse when I'm doing it?  Masturbating became harder to resist, and I cared less about pleasing Heavenly Father since I felt so disconnected, messy, ashamed, and abandoned.  I was slipping maybe once a month, and almost a year later I was slipping even more when I finally decided to talk to my bishop again.  We had a new bishop by then, and he responded to me different than my past bishops.  He was the first to say something besides, "Don't do it again."  I loved him so much for it.  He said, "I need you to wait a period of time before you can go back to the temple, and then I want you to GO THERE.  But.  First we need this period of time."  He set up a condition and plan.  He treated it like it mattered.  I loved that.  But I thought, "Three weeks?  Easy.  I can stop any time, and forever if I really wanted to."  He warned me about the third week being the hardest.  Again I thought, "Whatever... it's easy."  I was shocked at how hard it was, and how many times I failed on the third week like he warned.  I had already been struggling, but shame hit hard at this point.  I was so sick of life, sick of isolating, trying and failing, and sick of pretending.  I found comfort in bruises, even days after I put them there, thinking they matched the way I felt inside: pained, damaged and dirty.  Thinking of dying wasn't anything new for me at this time, but these thoughts returned more and more often.  But!  I finally made it, returned to the temple even though I still felt angry and hurt, and am so glad I went there, and continue to go there.

I have been sober since then.

I didn't get there by myself.  The week of my very last slip, the Lord miraculously directed me to the LDS Women's 12 Step Sexual Addiction Support Group through a friend, and I began attending right away.  "Step 1: Honesty" is what helped me rediscover my Savior, sobriety, and temple attendance during that time.  I found the Lord again, and learned to talk to Him honestly, even if that meant lots of complaining and telling Him I didn't want to talk to Him.  To finally let go of trying to do this by myself, admitting that I truly can't do it alone.  Learning that I don't have to meet any expectations to be "good enough."  I learned stopping isn't healing, and that Christ is the ultimate healer.  I'm sure I wouldn't have accepted this program so readily had I not fallen so hard again JUST before I found it.  I know the Lord prepared me to find/accept this program.  I love love love it.  I'm still early in recovery and sifting through clouds of lies, deceptions, doubts, irrational fears, anxiety, and new addictions.  I'm early in the steps and still have a looong road of hard work and healing ahead.  But I have seen a major difference since taking these lovely steps toward my Savior.

The first few weeks of entering the program I was in denial that I'm an addict, I attended as a trial run.  Since attending the program, I've researched, asked questions, listened, and learned a looot more about addiction than I knew before.  Who knew a sexual addiction was so tied to my mental and emotional health?  Who knew I was really acting out because of underlying issues and wounds?  Who knew that my mind was SO stuck in certain patterns because of Satan!  And WHO KNEW that this WHOLE TIME Heavenly Father has been in my life, AND accessible, even while in the midst of sinful habits!  That Jesus Christ and His atonement applied to me THAT much?  That I was worthy of their love, and loved, all along.  This whole time.

Welp.  First story done.  Next....

CODEPENDENCY

Deep breath.  Little bit of background.  I'm the surprise baby of half a dozen kids, born 9 years after my family thought they were done with babies.  My siblings all left the nest for marriage or school by the time I was 4 except my older brother who left for a mission when I was 10.  My parents were older and often dealt with health issues, lacking energy to spend much time with me.

I spent most of my childhood feeling lonely and aching for attention, while competing with never-ending cuter nieces and nephews who were just 2 + years younger than me.

So there's the background which lays the foundation for pretty much all my addictions really.  I still feel that empty hole and try to fill it with distractive behaviors, still believing it can never be filled in a healthy way.

First, Codependency put simply (which is hard to put simply) is an addiction to obsessing over people; an addiction to being needed.

As early as 4 years old, I learned that the best way to get attention and feel special to people including myself, was to do things for people.  I massaged my mom's head aches.  I slept (layed awake all night--I was 4) in the unfinished basement's bed with my suicidal teen sister when she was lonely, saw her cuts, and knew where she secretly hid her drugs.  I stayed out of my dad's way/temper when he had his hernias, blood clots, and most all other times too.  I felt lost in the midst of graduations, weddings, babies, missions, etc.  I was very aware of others' needs, but I didn't know how to ask for things or express my own emotions.  I have a 6th grade journal entry where I say goodbye to my family because I randomly believed I caught a disease, and didn't know how to tell anyone I didn't feel well, and expected to die without anyone knowing.  Except for smiling and being pleasantly well behaved, I kept my feelings to myself.  I remember thinking I was "a happy little girl" like everyone said, but obviously I wasn't - I fantasized killing myself so very often in those early years.  I spent time sifting through kitchen knives, standing in front of busy roads, etc etc, and feeling like a coward because I was always too scared to do it.

As I grew older approaching my teen years, I learned to ignore my feelings and put them away.  Without realizing it, having no feelings/wants/needs at all was the safest way to live, because my feelings always hurt so much, I wasn't taking care of them or expressing them, and I didn't know how to get my wants/needs met.  I stopped being able to cry when I was a kid.  I could only cry when someone I loved was hurting.  I could only feel the pain of others.  I only really cared about the life pursuits of other people, and their lives became my main focus.  Having my own feelings, goals, wants, dreams, was all foreign to me, quite literally.  I started attracting friends with huge needs, and wrapped myself into their lives.  The more drama the better.  I needed it.  I constantly fantasized moments of people crying to me, and various fantasies of rescuing them.  I felt unsatisfied about life when everyone was happy.  I dropped anything for those I loved - no matter the cost.  When nobody needed me I'd start looking for needy people, and I always found them.  This hurt my grades, my other relationships, my health, my finances, etc.

I've told great guys who wanted to date me that we couldn't make it work because they didn't need me enough.  I told a wonderful mission companion that we couldn't be best friends like previous companions because she didn't need me enough.  ...I know, right?

Emotionally, I have always felt different, like something was wrong with me.  For example, my grandparents all passed away in my youth and I never cried over any of them.  I tried to, but felt nothing.  My mom emotionally disappeared from my life due to sudden severe depression when I was a teen, and I couldn't cry or feel any sorrow when that happened.  Just... nothing.  I was always, always, always doing "fine."  I've fallen into fits of tears for months, however, when separating from my rare attachments, because I had made them an extension of me and didn't know what to do without them.  Hardest part of my mission = transfers (saying goodbye to companions.)  I also felt strange compared to others because everyone seemed to have great passions, and I only cared about listening.  My passion was found in other people's passions.  I couldn't see what was happening in my own life.  In social settings people shared personal stories and insights, and I rarely had stories or insights to share even though I wanted to.  I just couldn't think of any!  But I could talk about other people's lives and problems all day!

This is a dangerous way to live.  When you can't say no, when you don't live for yourself, when you have no boundaries, when you gather worth and value off how much you can do for people, you leave a wide open invitation for people to walk all over you.  Some did that with me.  I've done absolutely ridiculous things for people.  (thank goodness I can see that now!)

Two years ago I heard the term "codependent" for the first time in my psychology 1010 class and was like, "WHOA."  Yeah.  That's me.  I began researching immediately.  Busy with school, (in a major I didn't even really like that much) I forgot about it until a year later.  I finally had a huge nervous break down (which I previously described above) and decided to go back and look harder at this term, codependent.  I ordered a couple books about codependency and started studying.  It all came together and made perfect sense.

Since then I've cut some people completely out of my life, and others I've had to detox from.  I'm in therapy and learning tons about what healthy relationships look like, setting boundaries, and what I can do to change and develop a sense of self and identity.  Between books, support friends, support groups, therapists, and a lot of hard work, and finally learning to include the Lord (thanks to Steps 1, 2, and 3 and a great sponsor) I've already made STRIDES of progress, but I'm still far from where I want to be.

I did learn this: the only single person that is okay to be dependent on completely is the Lord.  We can be needy with Him.  We can cling to Him.  And strive to be constantly near Him, despite our current dysfunctions.  We can seek for ways to please Him and make His wants and needs our focus.  We can forget ourselves and lose ourselves in Him.  But that's only because His will, His focus, His wants, His needs, are only going to build us and our lives for our own good and welfare.  Isn't that like the best remedy for codependency??

So.

That's my story.