About a week ago, I was on the receiving end of some pretty sad emotional wounds. Church is hard, dating is hard, family is hard, and I'm just not adjusting very well to life away from what is familiar.
The straw finally came on Wednesday when I found out that a friend of mine had been lying about stuff to avoid hanging out with me. I felt betrayed and cheap and sad and I immediately started weeping bitterly.
As a sidebar, I often feel as though God chooses to love me in a passive-aggressive way. I feel incredible guilt when He blesses me, but when life is difficult for whatever reason, I always interpret it to be a manifestation of His anger. I'm not blaming any of this on Him, but I can't seem to ever feel His love. I always feel like He's either dangling blessings in front of me and then guilting me when He gives them, or He withholds love from me like a petulant child. Unconditional love is not something I understand.
As I cried silently into my pillow, I prayed that if God knew the end from the beginning, then He knew how my story was going to turn out. I asked Him to tell me if things ever got better and if I'd ever be happy somehow. Almost immediately, I felt calm and tranquil and knew that my happy ending would come, even if I didn't know how or when. I knew that God knew, and without putting any qualifications on it, He gave me that knowledge to calm me down and help me feel peace.
I was still sad, but the tears stopped flowing and for the first time in a LONG time, I felt humble. I said, out loud, "Okay, I'll wait. I can wait for things to be good."
Things aren't good. But they will be good. And that's enough. I can wait.
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Like you're trying to change the world
Last week's sacrament meeting was a homecoming to end all homecomings. Each one of the speakers in church was a very recently returned missionary. It was so fun to see each of their unique personalities shine through in their mission experiences and it was a really interesting way to spend sacrament meeting.
In any case, one of the missionaries is a little brother of one of my friends. He's always been a teasing, jocular little snot, someone you can't help but love even though he steals food from your plate when you're not looking and does that trick shot in pool where he hits you in the nuts with an 8-ball [not gonna lie, still haven't completely forgiven him for that one].
His talk was funny, as expected, but also loaded with a maturity I hadn't yet seen him portray. And more importantly, he said something that has been running through my head ever since I heard it.
When talking of the methods and intentions invested in our prayers, he chastised us to remember not to short change our prayers. Too often, we kneel (or crouch or lay in bed and bury our heads in our pillows) and say, "Thank you for this, please bless me with this, and I'm sorry for this. Amen." Such half-hearted and lazy prayers are not very effective prayers.
Instead, my little returned missionary friend said that we should "pray as if our prayers could change the world."
That's a soul-stirring idea.
For the next few days, I incorporated it into my scripture study, taught lessons about it in my home teaching, and brought it up in Institute. In one of the lessons, a girl I home teach, who also returned from her mission recently, took his idea and ran with it. She talked about how as a missionary, your prayers are always answered quickly and often in miraculous ways (seems unfair, huh?). But, she added that the only reason they get answered is because you're always moving and working as a missionary. As she put it, "It's impossible for the Lord to steer a vehicle that isn't moving," meaning that the Lord will guide us, but only if we're doing something. Another reason she said prayer seemed to work so well for her as a missionary was because she was constantly looking for those miraculous answers.
That tipped me off to something as well. So for the past few days, with LOTS of shortfalls, I've been trying to both pray as if my prayers could change the world and to look for those miraculous answers. To my surprise, I've seen them more in the past week than usual. Maybe those two recently-returned missionaries are on to something...
In any case, one of the missionaries is a little brother of one of my friends. He's always been a teasing, jocular little snot, someone you can't help but love even though he steals food from your plate when you're not looking and does that trick shot in pool where he hits you in the nuts with an 8-ball [not gonna lie, still haven't completely forgiven him for that one].
His talk was funny, as expected, but also loaded with a maturity I hadn't yet seen him portray. And more importantly, he said something that has been running through my head ever since I heard it.
When talking of the methods and intentions invested in our prayers, he chastised us to remember not to short change our prayers. Too often, we kneel (or crouch or lay in bed and bury our heads in our pillows) and say, "Thank you for this, please bless me with this, and I'm sorry for this. Amen." Such half-hearted and lazy prayers are not very effective prayers.
Instead, my little returned missionary friend said that we should "pray as if our prayers could change the world."
That's a soul-stirring idea.
For the next few days, I incorporated it into my scripture study, taught lessons about it in my home teaching, and brought it up in Institute. In one of the lessons, a girl I home teach, who also returned from her mission recently, took his idea and ran with it. She talked about how as a missionary, your prayers are always answered quickly and often in miraculous ways (seems unfair, huh?). But, she added that the only reason they get answered is because you're always moving and working as a missionary. As she put it, "It's impossible for the Lord to steer a vehicle that isn't moving," meaning that the Lord will guide us, but only if we're doing something. Another reason she said prayer seemed to work so well for her as a missionary was because she was constantly looking for those miraculous answers.
That tipped me off to something as well. So for the past few days, with LOTS of shortfalls, I've been trying to both pray as if my prayers could change the world and to look for those miraculous answers. To my surprise, I've seen them more in the past week than usual. Maybe those two recently-returned missionaries are on to something...
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Treating the symptoms while ignoring the causes
My brother is a doctor of osteopathy. It's a unique school of thought within the medical field that emphasizes healing the body's core problems, rather than merely treating the symptoms. He's a full-fledged doctor who works at a legitimate hospital and can write prescriptions and perform surgeries and do anything a medical doctor can, but he was educated to not merely prescribe painkillers to someone with a sore throat. Instead, he finds the root cause of the pain and treats that to solve the problem from the inside out.
My struggle with pornography addiction has been similar.
For years, I have had doubts about the LDS church. I have always wondered why this and why that. I have heard the vile rumors about Joseph Smith's personal life and speculated more perverse motivations behind plural marriage as the early Utahans practiced it. I have pondered about the nature and origin of the Book of Mormon and questioned its validity as a book of scripture.
However, these questions always coincided with my struggles with pornography. I'd relapse and binge, then feel terrible, then doubt the truthfulness of the gospel. I always assumed that because I'd chased the Spirit away with my porn consumption and made way for the Adversary to enter my thoughts. It became easy to quiet those doubts by reassuring myself that it was my disobedience that fed them.
However, after abstaining from porn for longer than I have in years, I've found that the opposite may be true. My consumption of porn may have been a manifestation of my doubts, rather than the other way around. Those doubts may have always been there and merely covered up by a scapegoat of pornography, when in reality, I only watched porn to distract myself from the core problems. As I abstained from pornography, I treated a symptom of the doubt while ignoring the root cause of it all.
I assumed that after I'd had some time apart from pornography, things would seem brighter and better. For some time, they did. I felt more confident and stronger in my day-to-day life; nothing could touch me. But as time passed and the "new" wore off, I found those same doubts wriggling their way into my head. They consumed me. "What if I'm totally wrong? What if God doesn't care who I marry or what church I go to or how I live, so long as I'm nice and kind and helpful?" I laid awake at night, wondering about the possibilities.
This all came to a head today. I was so sick of these questions bouncing around in my head and I snapped. I woke up for work early, but called in sick. I spent the rest of the day aimlessly walking around the house, checking the fridge every few minutes, washing a dish or two, flipping channels. I browsed the Internet listlessly, wasting my time in front of Craigslist or YouTube or Facebook. I planned on doing some work on the house and yard, but when the time came, I stayed on the couch instead. I had zero motivation to do anything; my brain was broken. I was overcritical of myself and my family, sarcastic and unkind to the one individual I saw when gassing up this morning and completely out of touch with my emotions and reality.
I was (and still am) amazed that removing pornography from my life didn't cure my doubts. But after a holistic blessing from that same osteopath I mentioned before, I see what I need to do to fix them. I have some motivation to do what needs to be done and to literally get my house in order before I can get the answers I need. I'm still shooting for a mission and all the blessings of faithful church membership, but I recognize that I'm on shaky ground, standing on a thin crust of earth ready to give way at any moment.
I do not regret removing pornography from my life and I encourage everyone affected by it to do the same. But it's interesting and surprising what you'll find after you've removed that scapegoat.
As usual, if you want to talk, feel free to e-mail me. But I'm also asking that you please pray for me tonight and tomorrow. I need motivation to work and I need a clear head to get those answers I seek. Thanks.
My struggle with pornography addiction has been similar.
For years, I have had doubts about the LDS church. I have always wondered why this and why that. I have heard the vile rumors about Joseph Smith's personal life and speculated more perverse motivations behind plural marriage as the early Utahans practiced it. I have pondered about the nature and origin of the Book of Mormon and questioned its validity as a book of scripture.
However, these questions always coincided with my struggles with pornography. I'd relapse and binge, then feel terrible, then doubt the truthfulness of the gospel. I always assumed that because I'd chased the Spirit away with my porn consumption and made way for the Adversary to enter my thoughts. It became easy to quiet those doubts by reassuring myself that it was my disobedience that fed them.
However, after abstaining from porn for longer than I have in years, I've found that the opposite may be true. My consumption of porn may have been a manifestation of my doubts, rather than the other way around. Those doubts may have always been there and merely covered up by a scapegoat of pornography, when in reality, I only watched porn to distract myself from the core problems. As I abstained from pornography, I treated a symptom of the doubt while ignoring the root cause of it all.
I assumed that after I'd had some time apart from pornography, things would seem brighter and better. For some time, they did. I felt more confident and stronger in my day-to-day life; nothing could touch me. But as time passed and the "new" wore off, I found those same doubts wriggling their way into my head. They consumed me. "What if I'm totally wrong? What if God doesn't care who I marry or what church I go to or how I live, so long as I'm nice and kind and helpful?" I laid awake at night, wondering about the possibilities.
This all came to a head today. I was so sick of these questions bouncing around in my head and I snapped. I woke up for work early, but called in sick. I spent the rest of the day aimlessly walking around the house, checking the fridge every few minutes, washing a dish or two, flipping channels. I browsed the Internet listlessly, wasting my time in front of Craigslist or YouTube or Facebook. I planned on doing some work on the house and yard, but when the time came, I stayed on the couch instead. I had zero motivation to do anything; my brain was broken. I was overcritical of myself and my family, sarcastic and unkind to the one individual I saw when gassing up this morning and completely out of touch with my emotions and reality.
I was (and still am) amazed that removing pornography from my life didn't cure my doubts. But after a holistic blessing from that same osteopath I mentioned before, I see what I need to do to fix them. I have some motivation to do what needs to be done and to literally get my house in order before I can get the answers I need. I'm still shooting for a mission and all the blessings of faithful church membership, but I recognize that I'm on shaky ground, standing on a thin crust of earth ready to give way at any moment.
I do not regret removing pornography from my life and I encourage everyone affected by it to do the same. But it's interesting and surprising what you'll find after you've removed that scapegoat.
As usual, if you want to talk, feel free to e-mail me. But I'm also asking that you please pray for me tonight and tomorrow. I need motivation to work and I need a clear head to get those answers I seek. Thanks.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Improving my prayers
I have noticed something disturbing about myself.
I have a temporary job doing road work for a fracking company. That's right. I'm facilitating the use of machines that burn fossil fuels inefficiently for a company that fractures bedrock to get to natural gas, tainting groundwater and releasing methane into the atmosphere in the process. Mother Earth is my bitch, apparently.
Anyway, this work is really backbreaking and difficult. My first day, it was over 100 degrees and I got a bad case of heat exhaustion and just about barfed in the truck. Since then, the weather's been a lot nicer, but it's still been achy, tiring work. I find myself praying every morning, in the car on the way to work and at every lunch and water break for strength to be able to do what I need to. This is FAR more prayer than I usually do, and the majority of it is about what I need and want.
It's been reminding me a lot of the pride cycle from the Book of Mormon. The Nephites are prosperous and forget their God. They're travailing and all of a sudden, they're loyal disciples. I'm afraid I'm the same way.
I've been striving to overcome that by devoting one of my longer prayers each day to either only things I'm grateful for or prayers for blessings on others. I think it helps me step outside myself and try to be a little more humble.
Still, the problem I see is that I'm so eager to turn to the Lord when things are kind of rough, but not when they're good. I feel like if I prayed more when things are good, it'd be a more balanced relationship between Him and me. We've all had those friends that are always there when they need help or a shoulder to cry on, but disappear when they're happy. We only see one side of them and it's not a particularly pleasant side. I feel like my relationship with the Lord might be that way. I know it's better than not praying when things are hard, but it's still kind of a strange dynamic.
Goalsetting time. Those of you who know me, when I vacate this job in a few weeks, you get to keep me accountable for how I spend my prayin' time as a happy, content kid, because I'm going to start expressing gratitude for that contentment and telling the Lord about how carefree my day was, just so He can see that other, non-needy side of me.
I have a temporary job doing road work for a fracking company. That's right. I'm facilitating the use of machines that burn fossil fuels inefficiently for a company that fractures bedrock to get to natural gas, tainting groundwater and releasing methane into the atmosphere in the process. Mother Earth is my bitch, apparently.
Anyway, this work is really backbreaking and difficult. My first day, it was over 100 degrees and I got a bad case of heat exhaustion and just about barfed in the truck. Since then, the weather's been a lot nicer, but it's still been achy, tiring work. I find myself praying every morning, in the car on the way to work and at every lunch and water break for strength to be able to do what I need to. This is FAR more prayer than I usually do, and the majority of it is about what I need and want.
It's been reminding me a lot of the pride cycle from the Book of Mormon. The Nephites are prosperous and forget their God. They're travailing and all of a sudden, they're loyal disciples. I'm afraid I'm the same way.
I've been striving to overcome that by devoting one of my longer prayers each day to either only things I'm grateful for or prayers for blessings on others. I think it helps me step outside myself and try to be a little more humble.
Still, the problem I see is that I'm so eager to turn to the Lord when things are kind of rough, but not when they're good. I feel like if I prayed more when things are good, it'd be a more balanced relationship between Him and me. We've all had those friends that are always there when they need help or a shoulder to cry on, but disappear when they're happy. We only see one side of them and it's not a particularly pleasant side. I feel like my relationship with the Lord might be that way. I know it's better than not praying when things are hard, but it's still kind of a strange dynamic.
Goalsetting time. Those of you who know me, when I vacate this job in a few weeks, you get to keep me accountable for how I spend my prayin' time as a happy, content kid, because I'm going to start expressing gratitude for that contentment and telling the Lord about how carefree my day was, just so He can see that other, non-needy side of me.
Monday, July 2, 2012
I needed to feel empowered, so I listened to techno for 20 minutes
I have been doing so well lately. Better than in such a long time. I've been avoiding pornography, thanks in large part to the prayers that I know people are offering for me and I've been able to keep my thoughts pretty free and clear of even the desire to look at porn or check out other guys and stuff. It's such a good feeling.
But today, I just woke up feeling weak. I don't know how else to describe it, I just was so tired. I mean, I was literally tired, but over and above that, I just felt spent up. It wasn't a hopeless exhaustion or one that made me want to give up and give in, but it wasn't a pleasant feeling.
A few years ago, when I was really in the thick of my pornography addiction and before I'd really started to ask for help and let people in on my life, I had these intense, debilitating feelings of worthlessness and depression. I started, then stopped, then started taking anti-depressants and seeing a therapist and when nothing really seemed to help with the depression, this idea came to me that my feelings were a necessary consequence of my poor decisions. I was carrying the guilt and shame with me everywhere and the only way to overcome it was to overcome my addictions.
For the last several years, my happiness and contentment was contingent on one thing: becoming worthy again. I assumed that as soon as I regained my worthiness, everything would become good again. I'd be happy, life would be easier and things would get better.
This morning, I had to face a reality where I'm not happy, even though I'm not making mistakes. To be sure, I'm very proud of myself for overcoming some of my demons insofar as I have and I also know that I'm much more at peace with myself now than I have been in a long time, but I can't say I'm appreciably happier. I don't want to give up, but I'm a little disappointed nonetheless.
A few months ago, my roommate introduced me to a piece of music. I was skeptical, because his taste tends to lean towards techno/dance/dubstep, while I tend to prefer music that's good (just kidding), but one song he showed me somehow got to me. It's called "Language," by Porter Robinson. The first time I heard it, its lyric-free melodies spoke something to me about my amazing ability to be more. Since there were no lyrics to get distracted by, I felt like I was listening to pure inspiration and the music spoke a deeply personal message to me, one that other people don't understand when they hear the song.
Today, that song came across my shuffle again and I looped it for about 20 minutes. I felt those old feelings come back. I saw my empowerment return. I saw those worries I'd woken up with in a new light. They still existed, but they were overshadowed by this ideal vision of myself, "a stoic badass whose emotions are mostly comprised of rock music and not being afraid of things." I saw this guy who still had feelings, but also had this uncanny ability to rise above them and refuse to let them define him. I still feel kinda sad, but I also feel bigger than the loneliness. Plus, it gave me a chance to evaluate my priorities and what's important to me, like my education, going to the temple when I get home, and serving a mission before the end of the year, all of which are much bigger than me.
Porter knows I'm worth more than the right now in which I find myself.
But today, I just woke up feeling weak. I don't know how else to describe it, I just was so tired. I mean, I was literally tired, but over and above that, I just felt spent up. It wasn't a hopeless exhaustion or one that made me want to give up and give in, but it wasn't a pleasant feeling.
A few years ago, when I was really in the thick of my pornography addiction and before I'd really started to ask for help and let people in on my life, I had these intense, debilitating feelings of worthlessness and depression. I started, then stopped, then started taking anti-depressants and seeing a therapist and when nothing really seemed to help with the depression, this idea came to me that my feelings were a necessary consequence of my poor decisions. I was carrying the guilt and shame with me everywhere and the only way to overcome it was to overcome my addictions.
For the last several years, my happiness and contentment was contingent on one thing: becoming worthy again. I assumed that as soon as I regained my worthiness, everything would become good again. I'd be happy, life would be easier and things would get better.
This morning, I had to face a reality where I'm not happy, even though I'm not making mistakes. To be sure, I'm very proud of myself for overcoming some of my demons insofar as I have and I also know that I'm much more at peace with myself now than I have been in a long time, but I can't say I'm appreciably happier. I don't want to give up, but I'm a little disappointed nonetheless.
A few months ago, my roommate introduced me to a piece of music. I was skeptical, because his taste tends to lean towards techno/dance/dubstep, while I tend to prefer music that's good (just kidding), but one song he showed me somehow got to me. It's called "Language," by Porter Robinson. The first time I heard it, its lyric-free melodies spoke something to me about my amazing ability to be more. Since there were no lyrics to get distracted by, I felt like I was listening to pure inspiration and the music spoke a deeply personal message to me, one that other people don't understand when they hear the song.
Today, that song came across my shuffle again and I looped it for about 20 minutes. I felt those old feelings come back. I saw my empowerment return. I saw those worries I'd woken up with in a new light. They still existed, but they were overshadowed by this ideal vision of myself, "a stoic badass whose emotions are mostly comprised of rock music and not being afraid of things." I saw this guy who still had feelings, but also had this uncanny ability to rise above them and refuse to let them define him. I still feel kinda sad, but I also feel bigger than the loneliness. Plus, it gave me a chance to evaluate my priorities and what's important to me, like my education, going to the temple when I get home, and serving a mission before the end of the year, all of which are much bigger than me.
Porter knows I'm worth more than the right now in which I find myself.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Trying to Regain Focus
This weekend was not kind. I had a nice time visiting Utarr, but it was filled with a lot of personal drama and angst. Nothing was going poorly outwardly, but I was just having a hard time keeping my thoughts collected and positive. There was a lot of what's-the-point going on as I visited with old friends and compared my life with theirs.
And then, amid all of those misgivings I'd had about life, I started to slip back into the old cycle of porn and self-loathing. I'm trying really hard to stem that tide of contempt and keep it from crashing onto me and sending me back to where I was a year ago, but I readily admit that I'm having a hard time with that.
______________________________________
Before I left for Utah, I had a conversation with a friend. I told her everything, all of my problems and sins and proclivities. I figured she'd be a good ally and I wanted her to know everything about me so that I could feel like I wasn't hiding anything from her anymore. I encouraged her to check up on me and be blunt with me often, just to have something to check myself by. And I even admitted to her that she was someone I could see myself with, someone I could share her load and my load with. She took it all like a champ and promised to be my friend and help me any way she could.
I hoped that telling her all that would make me feel better. I hoped that by letting her in, I could start to lay the foundation of a great friendship and maybe a great relationship, and I hoped that I could feel confident and less shameful about everything. But that wasn't the case. Instead, I dreaded her text messages. I hoped that she'd get freaked out and give me the cold shoulder. For some crazy reason, I wanted her to hate me and cut me out of her life. I ended the conversation feeling better, but woke up the next morning feeling so ashamed that I told her everything, including the parts about my shallow romantic feelings for her. I admit that I regret having that conversation a little bit, and I wish I didn't regret it. Reading her in on everything was a good decision and I have no idea why I wish I hadn't.
______________________________________
After I made my mistakes this week, I tried giving myself a pep talk. I told myself that I was wrong and that my mistakes were bad, but they didn't define me. I remembered that I'd made mistakes before and that I'd come back from them. But it all felt so hollow. I felt like I was telling myself lies, like I was trying to minimize or hide my problems, a sure sign of that old shame cycle.
Last night, as I was driving home from a friend's house, I felt like I needed to pull over and just have a conversation with Heavenly Father. I told him about all my mistakes and I asked that he'd help me feel guilt, but no shame, so that I could move forward and get it fixed. I frankly asked him, "What's the point? Will it ever get any easier?" I reminded him of all the progress I'd made, but then told him that I still felt like crap. I told him about when I'm at church and studying my scriptures and participating in discussions, and yet I still feel incredible attractions to a few guys in my ward. I asked him why I felt those things even as I participated in one of the most holy things I am currently allowed to do. I asked how I could possibly hope to have a girlfriend, much less a wife, when I'd catch myself looking some actor's abs every time we'd go see a movie together. I told him that I was afraid to get married or to go on a mission or go through the temple, because I was worried that all of a sudden I'd screw something up really bad and be so much more accountable for that mistake. I asked him if I really was in for 70 or 80 years of a life of quiet desperation. I asked when my "It Gets Better" moment was going to come.
Finally, I reminded him that I followed the second great commandment very well. I told him that I am a good friend and neighbor and I'm usually nice to most people. And, even the first great commandment I follow most of the time. I asked him why the few times I disobeyed seemed to nullify all of those other good qualities. I told him that my finite, mathematical mind didn't understand how my disobedience, which probably accounts for maybe 5% of my time alive, completely overcame that other 95%. I just don't understand why I'm cursed with such a poor self-image that a few mistakes can convince me that I'm destined for the 7th circle of Hell.
But, I admit, as awful as it felt to say all of those things to him, I could tell he was listening. I'm still worried and concerned about my long-term and I am still ashamed and wish I could just go to sleep for a few weeks because I'm so emotionally and spiritually exhausted, but at least he was listening.
Ugh, I'm trying so hard not to sound emo right now. Guess that'd be today's main failure. Better than the alternative failures I suppose.
And then, amid all of those misgivings I'd had about life, I started to slip back into the old cycle of porn and self-loathing. I'm trying really hard to stem that tide of contempt and keep it from crashing onto me and sending me back to where I was a year ago, but I readily admit that I'm having a hard time with that.
______________________________________
Before I left for Utah, I had a conversation with a friend. I told her everything, all of my problems and sins and proclivities. I figured she'd be a good ally and I wanted her to know everything about me so that I could feel like I wasn't hiding anything from her anymore. I encouraged her to check up on me and be blunt with me often, just to have something to check myself by. And I even admitted to her that she was someone I could see myself with, someone I could share her load and my load with. She took it all like a champ and promised to be my friend and help me any way she could.
I hoped that telling her all that would make me feel better. I hoped that by letting her in, I could start to lay the foundation of a great friendship and maybe a great relationship, and I hoped that I could feel confident and less shameful about everything. But that wasn't the case. Instead, I dreaded her text messages. I hoped that she'd get freaked out and give me the cold shoulder. For some crazy reason, I wanted her to hate me and cut me out of her life. I ended the conversation feeling better, but woke up the next morning feeling so ashamed that I told her everything, including the parts about my shallow romantic feelings for her. I admit that I regret having that conversation a little bit, and I wish I didn't regret it. Reading her in on everything was a good decision and I have no idea why I wish I hadn't.
______________________________________
After I made my mistakes this week, I tried giving myself a pep talk. I told myself that I was wrong and that my mistakes were bad, but they didn't define me. I remembered that I'd made mistakes before and that I'd come back from them. But it all felt so hollow. I felt like I was telling myself lies, like I was trying to minimize or hide my problems, a sure sign of that old shame cycle.
Last night, as I was driving home from a friend's house, I felt like I needed to pull over and just have a conversation with Heavenly Father. I told him about all my mistakes and I asked that he'd help me feel guilt, but no shame, so that I could move forward and get it fixed. I frankly asked him, "What's the point? Will it ever get any easier?" I reminded him of all the progress I'd made, but then told him that I still felt like crap. I told him about when I'm at church and studying my scriptures and participating in discussions, and yet I still feel incredible attractions to a few guys in my ward. I asked him why I felt those things even as I participated in one of the most holy things I am currently allowed to do. I asked how I could possibly hope to have a girlfriend, much less a wife, when I'd catch myself looking some actor's abs every time we'd go see a movie together. I told him that I was afraid to get married or to go on a mission or go through the temple, because I was worried that all of a sudden I'd screw something up really bad and be so much more accountable for that mistake. I asked him if I really was in for 70 or 80 years of a life of quiet desperation. I asked when my "It Gets Better" moment was going to come.
Finally, I reminded him that I followed the second great commandment very well. I told him that I am a good friend and neighbor and I'm usually nice to most people. And, even the first great commandment I follow most of the time. I asked him why the few times I disobeyed seemed to nullify all of those other good qualities. I told him that my finite, mathematical mind didn't understand how my disobedience, which probably accounts for maybe 5% of my time alive, completely overcame that other 95%. I just don't understand why I'm cursed with such a poor self-image that a few mistakes can convince me that I'm destined for the 7th circle of Hell.
But, I admit, as awful as it felt to say all of those things to him, I could tell he was listening. I'm still worried and concerned about my long-term and I am still ashamed and wish I could just go to sleep for a few weeks because I'm so emotionally and spiritually exhausted, but at least he was listening.
Ugh, I'm trying so hard not to sound emo right now. Guess that'd be today's main failure. Better than the alternative failures I suppose.
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