A Story About Step 1

Step 1: Come to understand and accept that we are powerless over the addiction of a loved one and recognize that our lives have become unmanageable. (From the Healing Through Christ 12-step manual)

The story below is an edited version of a story recorded by 

a loved one in my husband's extended family. 

This event really happened. Please do not repeat or copy 

any part of this story without my explicit permission.

(I have received permission from the family member to share this story.) 

I will refer to the family member as "Ginny" and her friend as "John." 

I have thought of this story so many times in relation to step 1. 

I will italicize and bold the part of the story that I feel relates to the principle of step 1. 

But there are many other parts of the story that I think relate to other

steps or aspects of addiction, and I will italicize some of them as well.

It was the summer after Ginny graduated from high school. Ginny and her friend John decided to go swimming in a large lake. The rented a boat and rowed far out into the lake. The lake was very polluted, but they decided it would be ok to swim if they kept their heads above the water. John jumped out and started swimming, and after much convincing, Ginny joined him. As soon as she left the boat, the wind picked up and the boat started moving away from them fast. John started swimming after it, and in almost no time the wind had become so strong that the waves were so large that Ginny could no longer see John or the boat.

Ginny sighted the shore and felt that it was out of her range---she truly did not think she would be able to keep swimming or floating long enough to make it to the shore. She thought about how sad she would be that she that she would not get to attend college, get married, or have children. She accepted her fate of death and kept dwelling on that thought. The only thought that comforted her was that she would not have to tell John's mother what happened to him. Finally, she became so tired that she stopped caring at all about trying to stay on top of the water, and she began to sink. 

She was surprised to find that just a few feet below her was the bottom of the lake. With renewed hope, she pushed off from the bottom of the lake toward the shore and swam a little farther. She did this over and over and finally made it to the shore. After resting on the beach for a while, she saw John walking toward her. The boat was gone (John later had to rent a plane to find the boat and another boat to go retrieve it; it had all their clothes, wallets, and keys in it). They walked back toward home and someone gave them a ride (they were just in their bathing suits).

Out of the entire experience, Ginny shared that "the most surprising thing of all" was the reaction of her mother: "She really scolded me and did not say anything about being happy that I was safe. This caused me great pain and I have thought about it many times, and vowed that I would never do the same thing to my children."

To me, Ginny's experience of accepting her powerlessness over her situation relates perfectly to step 1, and it is beautiful to me that when she finally stopped trying to save herself by herself, she gained access to a resource---the bottom of the lake---that allowed her to survive. This really illustrates the idea of hitting "rock bottom" to me. (Also, I've actually seen this idea of pushing off the bottom taught formally as a survival skill, so I think it's cool that she figured it out on her own.)

I also think it's interesting that in order to survive, Ginny and John had to lose everything, but that what they had was later restored to them (but it took great effort to get it). And I think the shame they felt at being picked up for a ride by a stranger in their bathing suits is something any addict or loved one of an addict can relate too---that vulnerable feeling of being exposed in front of others who stay safely hidden behind their clothes. I also think that addicts and loved ones of addicts can relate to the feelings Ginny must have felt when she returned to her mother only to be served further shame rather than love and relief.

God is taking care of me

Yes, I'm still alive, and I'm still the wife of a sex addict. Ha.Ha.Ha. I feel like I've dropped off the face of the wopa (wife of porn addict) world. Sure, I've still been lurking on some online support groups, but I've only read y'alls blogs once in the past couple of weeks (and no comments even though I've loved all your posts, sorry!). There is a lot that I want to catch up on here, and I'm such a linear thinker that I would love to do it in order, but that's not going to happen tonight. Because: I'm finally really "working the steps." About a month ago I started participating regularly in a phone in meeting for the 12-step Healing Through Christ program. It has been great. I got an accountability partner right away and just a week or so ago I got a sponsor. I'm doing a thirty in thirty, which means I'm working the steps daily for 30 days and making contact with my sponsor every day. In addition to some part-time work and my two kids, I'm kind of busy right now. But it's been good for me, and there are some things I want to share from it, starting with step 1. But, I'm short on time right now and there is a post I need to write right now for part of a personal take on an assignment on Step 2.

In Step 2 there is a question about recognizing how the Lord has supported you in the past. I actually have lots of evidence of the Lord's involvement in my life. For 6 years I've been keeping a daily journal where I record how I've seen the hand of the Lord in my life that day (a la President Eyering's 2007 GC talk, O Remember, Remember). So I spent some time reading some of my journal entries from the past and I felt the need to share an experience of seeing the Lord's hand in my life on this blog, because writing is such an important way to process for me.

Although there are a lot of things from the past I could write about, I realized just a few minutes ago that something special happened last night that I wanted to share. Last night I was in a bit of a funk and even after a helpful conversation with my sponsor, I was spending some time lurking on blogs as a way of dulling my senses. By 1:00 am I was still laying in bed with my laptop, tired, but not feeling ready to turn my laptop off and face my dark room alone. Suddenly, I heard the pitter patter of tiny feet (for real, it's super cute sounding) and my 4 year old daughter pranced into my room and came to my bed with a sweet smile on her face and asked if she could cuddle. I let her come under the covers and her face was just glowing and before I could even ask her why she woke up she started rambling in her cute, tired, four-year-old way, "I like to have dreams about things that I like in my dream like things I really like . . ." She had just woken up from a good dream and felt the urge to come cuddle with me. And even though my heart was immediately warmed, I thought I'd keep my laptop on for a few more minutes while she drifted back to sleep, but after about 2 minutes she told me that the computer light was hurting her eyes. So I turned it off, put it on the floor, and snuggled up with my sweet girl.

I appreciated her presence again in the morning when I woke from what had a been a long and emotionally taxing dream. I dreamed I had been given a death sentence (from a court of law) and there was some expectation that I might be released from the sentence, but it didn't happen, so I was just waiting for my life to end. There's more to the dream of course, but I'm sure you can imagine why it was so disturbing. For most of the dream I was just sobbing my eyes out about the fact that my life was going to be over so soon (within hours), punctuated by short spurts of me trying to bravely accept my fate. Waking up to my sweet girl who was anxious for me to wake up  and get out of bed was really helpful. (She pretended to be Simba from The Lion King and started pouncing on me like he pounces on his dad to wake him up; it didn't hurt, thank goodness, but it did the job and was pretty cute.)*

This has never happened before. It has even been a really long time (4+ months?) since she has woken up from a nightmare or to go to the bathroom (she does still wear pull ups) or anything in the middle of the night. Once she woke up in the middle of the night and was happy, but she was convinced it was morning time and had gotten dressed for preschool and then was distraught when I explained it was 3 am and she couldn't have breakfast yet. Can I say for sure if this incident was a miracle rather than just a happy coincidence of REM cycles? No. Do I know why last night my daughter was in a position to help lift my spirits, but there have been plenty of other nights I've been left alone or my role as a parent has added to my stress? No. But a lifetime of experiences like this (documented on a daily basis for the past 6 years) are like stones that create the foundation of my testimony. By themselves, they may seem small and insignificant, but when joined by the mortar of my faith, they represent something much, much bigger and indisputably concrete. Everything about my life shows me that God lives. That He loves me. And that He has the power to help me keep His commandments and feel peace and joy despite what is going on in my life. There are plenty of questions I can't answer, but I do feel confident that I KNOW these things. Sometimes I start to forget them, especially on days where it's a harder to see His hand in my life (many days I recognize His hand in my life by expressing gratitude for a blessing in my life because I feel that all good things in my life are a gift from God). But whenever I take the time to remember, I regain confidence in my knowledge.

I wish I had more time to clean this post up. It feels rushed and sloppy. Because I'm rushed (I have a call with my sponsor in 15 minutes before the 12-step phone in meeting in 45 minutes) and sloppy (let's just say my yoga pants are earning their keep in my wardrobe). I'm grateful God is helping take care of me, but  I think tomorrow I need to take a little bit better care of myself.

*I feel the need to say that I work very hard to not make my children responsible for my emotional state or to burden them with my emotions. I do not expect my child to fix my mood or my problems. But I am thankful for my daughter's sweet, innocent spirit and the joy and peace and purpose that brings to my life, and how her presence was a blessing to me last night.