2015

Is January almost over already?

At the end of December I started pondering what I envisioned for 2015. This is going to be a year of a lot of change.

But, I want to end 2015 being stronger and more brave.

I took to Pinterest and found some empowering quotes and scriptures. And I'm slowly working to plaster those on my wall.

I could tell you I have a million resolutions---to read my scriptures every day, have perfect Family Home Evening, bake my own bread, save x amount of $$, lose weight, teach my girls to read---but in reality I just want to be strong, brave, and a source of love and comfort to my girls.

This will be the year my girls and I find our new path, whatever that may be.

My Story: After D-Day 1

Quick note: You can read the rest of My Story here. And make sure to at least read, D-Day 1.

The first couple weeks after D-Day 1 went seemingly well. Or so I thought.

We were being intimate. We were talking. And we were doing our normal day to day routine.

I pretty much stopped reading about pornography addiction and ignored the things I had read about what we should both be doing to get us out of this mess.

Skip ahead two months and things had gone back to what they were before.

This time I knew why. 

I was depressed. I felt isolated and like this problem was weighing me down. It was holding me back. 

I had no one to talk to about it. No one.

I still didn't do anything about it for several more weeks.

Then an answer to a prayer I'm not even sure I had specifically asked for came to me in the shape of a friend. 

This friend and I went on walks almost daily in a cemetery (joke all you want--it was peaceful, beautiful, and still my favorite place to go on a walk). We talked about all sorts of things. Our children, school, food, memories, babies, clothes, the future, our homes, people, our families, our trials, our happiness. But, I had never talked about the biggest struggle in my life. 

My husband is a pornography addict.

My friend brought up the topic actually. And I knew in that moment that I needed to tell her. I so desperately wanted to tell her.

I told her. I cried. And she walked with me for a long time as I talked about it all. 

We continued to talk about it. She has been there with me through many times of happiness and sadness. But, this time specifically I knew that Heavenly Father was utilizing her as a means to help me. To comfort me. To bless me. To show me I didn't have to do this alone.

I will never forget that first conversation and the weight I felt lift from me as I let everything out. She continues to be there for me through all of the chaos, sadness, frustration, and heartache. And for that I will be forever grateful.

At the end of August, with that same friend's encouragement, I decided to go to the bishop. At this point, my husband had not spoken a word of confessing to the bishop. Up until I made the decision, I thought I couldn't go until he had told the bishop about the addiction. I was so wrong.

I was dealing with this too. I needed help and support. I wasn't going to tattle on my husband. I was going so I could start healing.

An hour before going to the bishop, I told my husband what I was doing. He said he wanted to go with me.

The next month is sort of a blur. But the short story: My husband spoke with the bishop alone saying he had told him everything, the problem was minimized, and my husband was told he could go to the church recovery meetings if he wanted to. I started seeing a therapist, but only went a handful of times. I started going to recovery support group. My husband went to two recovery meetings and met with a therapist once. The therapist gave him a book about dealing with stress. 

A couple months after the initial meeting with the bishop I thought things were going well. 

My husband kept saying he was doing fine. 

Then things gradually started going back they were before. The meetings stopped. The conversations on the topic of pornography addiction stopped. My desire to keep attending support meetings was looked down upon by my husband.

He said he was fine, so why did I need to go? 

I believed him. And I stopped going. I stopped reading about it. I stopped talking to my friend about it saying everything was good. I kept myself in isolation.

I went into the stage of grief known as denial.

And stayed there for almost a year and a half while life flew by me.

My husband graduated. He got a job. We moved 1000 miles away. Our girls had two more birthdays. I filled my life with being a mom.

But, our marriage still wasn't what I dreamed it would be. And I knew why, but wasn't ready to confront that reason until this past June. 

My Story: Before Marriage (Part 1)

Quick note: I share this to give background to my story and to show that I am not perfect. 

I led a seemingly "normal" childhood.

I did well in school. I participated in various sports. I had my first "boyfriend" in fourth grade. I had my first "kiss" in sixth grade (the boy was like a foot shorter than me...). I got a job at a grocery store when I was 14. I spent the summers carefree with friends. I got a car when I was 16. I was a "normal" teenager.

My friends and I hung out with older boys my Sophomore and Junior year of high school. We went to parties. We did things we should not have, and got in trouble for it sometimes.

The summer before my Senior of high school was a life changer. I had spent my summer nights out much too late with friends and with boys that expected too much. Towards the end of summer, one of the boys in our "group" left where we were in his car, angry and drunk.

A half hour later he had managed to lose control near his home and have a wooden fence pole go through his windshield, nearly missing his face and killing him.

Several hours later he met up with a previous girlfriend, whom he had lived with, and ended up in jail for domestic violence.

That event made me wonder where my life was going.

It made me ponder what I wanted for my future.

My 17 year old mind KNEW I wanted to be a wife and mother. I wanted to be successful. I wanted to serve others. I wanted to be a good influence.

I changed that day.

I did not know where I was headed or how I would change. I just knew that there was something more.

About two months later I met a boy. A few months later I met his family. They were kind, generous, loving, faithful, and joyful. They were everything I wanted for my future family.

They were members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

I spent many days and evenings at their house that year learning about the Gospel through Family Home Evening, dinners with the missionaries, church activities, family scripture study, and family prayer. They were member missionaries.

All I knew was that I wanted to spend as much time at their home as possible. I wanted to know more.

After deciding to go to an in state university, I quickly changed my mind after applying and getting into Brigham Young University in Utah with the encouragement of this family. I was thrilled at the idea of going out of state, on my own, and becoming who I wanted to be.

A fresh start.

That summer I received my first Book of Mormon. Secretly slid onto the driver's seat of my car, wrapped in paper, with a sweet note inside from a 12 year old girl.

I started going to church. I realized that this family I had spent so much time with weren't the only ones. Everyone I met had a smile, kind words, served each other, and loved the Gospel.

One evening I was invited to attend a missionary fireside in the Mission President's home. The speaker shared about conversion. I remember saying a silent prayer that if what he was saying was true that I would feel it. I would know.

I felt it. I felt the warmth of the Spirit revealing to me that it was true.

I knew in that moment that I would be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

At the beginning of July I received a text asking if I would want to meet with the missionaries for the discussions.

Without hesitation, I said, "yes".

Lesson two I was invited to be baptized.

Without hesitation, I said, "yes".

On August 20th I was baptized and confirmed. It was one of the happiest days of my life.

Two days later I left to start my freshmen year at Brigham Young University.

My fresh start. The beginning of my life in the Gospel.

sweet voices

As I did the dishes this morning, contemplating the sadness in my life a sweet voice started singing.

"The temple is a holy place" was set on repeat for a minute.
"Lead me, guide me, walk beside me" followed by "the temple is a holy place" once more.

A beautiful and perfect reminder that despite the trials in our little family I am teaching my daughters the Gospel. I am teaching them to love Heavenly Father, be grateful for our Savior's sacrifice, and to seek out the comfort of the Holy Ghost. I am teaching them to strive to make covenants with their Father in the temple. THIS is what makes my trials easier. THIS is what makes me days a lot brighter.

Rain

“We can choose to be grateful, no matter what. This type of gratitude transcends whatever is happening around us. It surpasses disappointment, discouragement, and despair. It blooms just as beautifully in the icy landscape of winter as it does in the pleasant warmth of summer. When we are grateful to God in our circumstances, we can experience gentle peace in the midst of tribulation. . . . In the cold of bitter sorrow, we can experience the closeness and warmth of heaven’s embrace. . . . How much of life do we miss by waiting to see the rainbow before thanking God that there is rain? Being grateful in times of distress does not mean that we are pleased with our circumstances. It does mean that through the eyes of faith we look beyond our present-day challenges. This is not a gratitude of the lips but of the soul.” -President Uchtdorf