Me Again

I woke up yesterday morning feeling like myself again, for the first time in I don't know how many months.
I got out of bed without my children forcing me to.
I cleaned.  ON MY OWN.  I swept and mopped my floor (it's literally been over a month since the last time I did that), and I cleaned without resentment or anger, but with the genuine satisfaction that comes from seeing a job well done, as well as the peace that come from living in a house that doesn't resemble a place where you would keep livestock.
And then my husband came home from a camp out, and I could tell he was irritated.  Irritated that I had talked him into taking both the three-year-old AND the five-year-old with him (I know, I'm so demanding).
And I started feeling guilty.  And then I started feeling resentful and manipulated, and then cleaning suddenly became a CHORE instead of a gift of service to the people I love.  Another symptom of just how much I was taken for granted.
And then I felt guilty for being resentful, and I thought I could hold it in and just fake it--I could just go and take a nap with my husband on our bed...but Heavenly Father doesn't let me do that anymore.
Thank Goodness.
So, after mopping and sending my cranky husband in to take a nap, I went and ate some lunch (I'm one of those people who get hangry--I get cranky if I haven't eaten for a while), and then I took a nap on the couch, after a few more surrendering prayers and a little bit of reading in my Steps.
And after we woke up, when we felt better, I pulled The Husband aside and TOLD him.  Honestly, but kindly.  "I'm glad you took the boys camping, but I was angry because I felt that you had a bad attitude about it.  That's why I didn't come sleep with you for nap time."
He was gracious about it and apologized for his bad attitude, and I felt better.
I gave him the truth.
And the truth set me free.

All of Us?

How in the world does Heavenly Father manage to love EVERY single one of his children?
How does he love screwed-up me and my husband the same as he loves the prophet the same as he loves the drug-dealer on the street or Hitler or any other evil, horrible human being who also happens to be a child of God?
How?!?!
The truth is, I don't think our finite minds can begin to comprehend how He manages to have perfect, never ending love for all of His children.
Being a parent has helped me start to understand--in the smallest miniscule way--how perfect and all-encompassing a parent's love for a child can be, as well as how love can be powerful but different for each individual--I don't love my hyperactive, energetic, eager 5-year-old son the exact same way as I love my obedient, easygoing, happy, stubborn 2-year-old daughter, but I love them both beyond comprehension.  That parental bond is a very real and powerful emotion.
Which is a good thing, because otherwise, I think we'd hear of a lot more parents devouring their young.
But the other day, my kind and wise Heavenly Father gave me just a glimpse into how His love works.
I had run a quick trip into Super-Walmart with my slightly self-absorbed seventeen-year-old sister and my three tantrum-throwing toddlers, and as part of the deal, I had stooped to bribery and bought a baker's dozen worth of donuts to feed the children.  We had finally loaded all of the kids in the car, and I was looking forward desperately to a well-earned naptime once we traveled the 30 minutes home, when I happened to glance over towards the bus stop that is on the way out of the parking lot, and noticed a youngish woman sitting on the curb with her face in her hands.
Instantly, the thought came to me: "She needs someone to check on her.  Go do it."
It didn't come again, but because I'm learning to follow thoughts that I know aren't mine, I flipped an extremely dangerous U-turn in the middle of the parking lot while trying to explain to my sister what I was doing (she looked at me as if I was crazy), and put the car in park right next to the woman sitting on the curb. I grabbed a donut with a napkin and climbed out of the car and walked over to her nervously, then tapped her on her tattooed arm.  She looked up, startled, tears still streaming down her face.
"Hey, um--you looked like you were having a hard time, and I thought...would you like a donut?"  I stammered awkwardly, holding the donut out to her.  "I know it won't fix anything, but maybe it'll make you feel a little better?"
She looked at me a little strangely (I don't blame her), then took the donut hesitantly.  "Thanks, I guess."  She began wiping her eyes, embarrassed.
"Is everything okay?  Do you want to talk about it?"  I asked gently, as I sat down on the curb beside her.
Her face crumpled and she began to cry again.  "I can't get my meds!"
I'll admit, my first thought was Oh, crap--I just stopped to help a druggie! 
But I didn't say anything, and she continued to tell me how her insurance company had elected to stop covering her seizure medications--the ones that cost $500 per month--and she didn't know how she could hold down a job or take care of her children without those medications--and how hopeless and scared she felt.
I didn't say anything beyond a murmured "That sounds so hard," or "I'm sorry it's so hard for you right now," because I had absolutely no advice, no solutions--nothing beyond a listening ear to offer. She vented for about five minutes (I had to keep myself from continually glancing over at my car where my hyperactive children were literally licking the windows), and as she began to calm down and get quieter, I had another distinct thought: "She needs to know that her Heavenly Father loves her.  Tell her that."
As she paused for a moment, I patted her knee awkwardly.  "I'm so sorry that things are hard.  And I know it may not feel like it right now, but I want you to know that God loves you, and I know that everything will turn out all right.  He sent me here to tell you that."
She gave me another strange look--I couldn't tell what she might have been thinking--but I knew that my job was done at that moment.  I asked her if I could give her a hug, and she let me, and then I got back in my car and drove away.
I don't know what she got out of that, and I probably will never know in this life what it may have meant to her, but I do know that I once again was reminded that my Heavenly Father knows us each on a more individual and personal basis than we can possibly comprehend.
And He loves us and sends us exactly what we need, exactly when we need it.
And that's something to think about, now, isn't it?

Beauty and the Beast from a Codependent's Point of View

A few months ago, my friend (who is wonderfully intelligent, educated, and also quite the bra-burning feminist) posted this status update on Facebook: “I am watching ‘Beauty and the Beast’ with my young daughter and I can’t believe Disney would produce such a blatant example of a relationship with an abuser!  Belle falls in love with her captor and puts up with emotional abuse (and the threat of physical abuse) in hopes of changing him—what an unhealthy message to send!  Yadda, yadda, yadda…”

I replace the rest with “yadda, yadda, yadda,” mainly because I can’t remember her other arguments to support her point.  This status irked me for some reason that I couldn’t put my finger on, but I didn’t comment, mainly because it had been a couple of years since I myself had seen said movie, and although I was a staunch and loyal fan of this movie (I have been since my bookworm 9-year-old self first thrilled to the idea of a beautiful Disney princess who loved books as much as I did), I wasn’t entirely positive I wanted to start an Internet war over something I felt in my gut was wrong but that I had no proof of.  Besides, it was a Disney movie.  No big deal.

Fast forward a couple of months.  A few weeks ago, due to a few awakening realizations, I got out my old 12-steps pamphlet again and realized a few things about myself—I am a codependent who has an absolute desire to change, fix, and rescue my husband (not necessarily from pornography, although that has been an issue in the past, but from other destructive thoughts, behaviors, and addictions that only he—and the Savior—can change).  The only desire greater than my desire to rescue is my desire to do the “right” thing.  I’ve been taking steps the past couple of months to try to get in touch with my Heavenly Father and find out His plan for our marriage and family; and more than anything, I’ve been trying to find the courage to give up control of my marriage and my relationship to my Heavenly Father. 

It’s not an easy thing.  I could talk about my very first “honest” discussion with my husband, and how I finally discussed my resentment of his severe depression and its effects on our relationship as well as our spirituality as a family, and how the entire time I felt as though I had just kicked a puppy by looking at the expression on his face and the fear of abandonment I knew he was experiencing.  I could talk about that and the guilt I’m still trying to get over, but at this point, I don’t want to talk about that just yet.

I want to mention how as my children were watching “Beauty and the Beast” yesterday afternoon, I found myself resonating with Belle, wanting to be more like her.

Belle is ANYTHING but a passively abused woman, in my eyes.  She entered what she knew was going to be an imperfect relationship, determined not to have anything to do with her captor in the beginning, but as an intelligent, strong, educated, but soft-hearted woman, she looked for the best in her situation.

She never once allowed the Beast to cross boundaries with her; when he demanded she eat dinner with him even when it made her feel unsafe, she refused to open her door to him.  When they got in a shouting match after she broke his rules and went into the West Wing, she even left.  Afterwards, when he saved her from wolves and she chose to come home with him again, there were no apologies, no submissive avoidance of the topics at hand; she let him know that “you need to control your temper,” but then thanked him for the good he had done—“Thank you for saving my life.”

I was in awe watching/listening to this amazing movie as I went about my day, but it didn’t really hit me until the very end of the movie, when the Beast has been stabbed by Gaston and, to all appearances, died.

Belle, sobbing, hugs him and says softly, “I love you.”

She didn’t know about the spell.  She had no idea that underneath all the fur and fangs was a handsome prince—she just loved, unconditionally, the good in the beast she had come to know over the past months. 

Unlike what my friend claimed, Belle did NOT go into this relationship with the intent to change.  She went in to save her father, but because she kept her mind and heart open, she found the good in the person she had committed to stay with, and without manipulating, without her even trying to change or control the Beast, he freely chose to change under her influence. 

She didn’t learn to love him for who she hoped he could be eventually—she had no idea of his royal heritage or who he might have been before (although the painting in the West Wing might have given her the smallest glimpse of who he really was).  Instead, she loved him as he WAS. 

I can’t begin to tell you what an awakening this was for me.  For so long, I’ve been looking forward with hope to when things would be better, when he would be better, when he would be my equal in things spiritual and emotional.  I’ve loved him for who he was while we were dating (in the past) or for who I hoped he could be (in the future), but not for who he is right now as my husband at this moment, and by doing that, I realize now that I was manipulating him—trying to encourage him, shame him, or somehow motivate him to become something other than what he is right now. 

THAT IS NOT MY JOB.  I am not his Savior.  I’m not even my own Savior. 

Over and over again, as I have taken my husband’s problems to the scriptures, to prayer on my knees, to the temple, the answer I have gotten (for years now) has been “It is not your job to fix him, only to love him.”

I thought I understood that before; and I’m now beginning to realize that I had no clue what that answer truly meant.  I thought I could offer my love with strings attached: “If I tell him I love him enough, he’ll finally learn to love himself.”  “If I give him this gift (his strongest love language is gift-giving), he’ll finally be happy.”  “If I give him enough physical affection, he’ll engage in our relationship.” 

It doesn’t work that way.  That is not how the Savior’s love for us works, nor is it how our Heavenly Father loves us.  He never tells us “I love you, so now you have to do __________,” or “I gave you that awesome tender mercy, so now you have to be more ________.”

President Thomas S. Monson, in a recent Relief Society Meeting, told me personally (he may have been speaking in a worldwide meeting, but I know he was telling this to me and only me): “Your Heavenly Father loves you—each of you. That love never changes. It is not influenced by your appearance, by your possessions, or by the amount of money you have in your bank account. It is not changed by your talents and abilities. It is simply there. It is there for you when you are sad or happy, discouraged or hopeful. God’s love is there for you whether or not you deserve love. It is simply always there.”

We have been told numerous times in the scriptures that we are to have Christlike charity for our fellow men.  And this entire time I thought I was loving my husband, I was merely attempting to manipulate, to guilt him, to be “enough” for him.  I was completely unaware of it, but that’s what was happening.

This thought for me is both extremely depressing and extremely liberating at the same time. 

I don’t have to operate under the pressure that I can fix my husband.  I can have faith that it will happen—on the Lord’s timeline and without any pressure or help from me—but IT IS NOT MY JOB.

Like Belle, I can set my boundaries and remain safe, but learn to love—healthy, non-manipulative love—unconditionally.  Like Belle, I can love without hoping that my beast will somehow magically transform under the power of my love, but for who and what he is, today, and then step back and leave the rest up to my Heavenly Father.