Distractions

Tonight, as I sat after dinner, pounding away on the piano and trying to do something--anything--to kill time/keep my mind occupied, my 5-year-old came and laid his hand on my arm.

"Mom, I think it's time you should come play with us."  He said it softly, kindly, without the whiny tone that usually accompanies this kind of request, and for once, I actually listened to my child.  I didn't finish my song, I didn't shrug him off--I listened and followed him.

We ended up turning off all the lights in the house, taking a lit candle into the kids' room, and telling funny stories--some true, some not, but with just the four of us, all gathered around our mini campfire and listening.

It was wonderful.  After the kids went to bed (amazingly easily and early for this lot), I started getting busy--distracted--again.  I found myself checking my phone far too often, I did the dishes, I painted a shelf, I watched some TV (although I chose some uplifting shows rather than the often-inappropriate shows I tend to choose when wanting to numb myself), and then, after exhausting every other numbing technique I usually use, I finally decided to get out my 12-Steps pamphlet.

I've been stuck on Step 9--making amends--for a while now.  I had a hard time finding the difference between making amends and going back into doormat mode, which was hard for me.  For so long, I've allowed myself to be treated like a doormat by people in my life because I thought it was the "charitable" thing to do, and so going to people and finding ways to make amends for ways I might have harmed them was hard for me to do without automatically going to guilt mode.  By the time I finished with all the amends needed on my very-long list, I was so emotionally and spiritually spent that I just decided to stay away from the 12 Steps for a while and focus instead on just the absolute, bare-bones basics of my spiritual survival.

It was just too hard for a while.  Recovery, group, all of it--was TOO HARD.  And so I went into survival mode, where I just depended on God alone, with only the scriptures and prayer to keep me close to him....spiritual crackers and water.

It's been a few weeks now since I've read Recovery, and I've been feeling for a couple of days now that I needed to open my pamphlet again--that I would be ready for it and blessed if I did.  So, after all the stalling techniques that I mentioned, when I finally started studying about and working on Step 10--oh, it was like a breath of fresh air.  As I read the questions in Step 10 asking about being present and staying accountable, my mind flew to tonight's experience.

As humans, we don't want to feel pain.  It's a natural survival instinct to want to numb pain, and for me, oh, the past few months have been nothing but pain.  And so naturally, I've taken to numbing that pain.  Facebook, emails, TV, reading blogs, staying busybusybusy, EATING--these have all been techniques I've found myself turning to, sometimes unwillingly, but always turning to.  And this has given me so very much compassion for addicts whose addictions aren't the kind that allow you to stay temple-worthy...as I look at the clock in disgust after realizing that I've wasted hours on Facebook when I should have been sleeping...I understand the shame that comes from that.

And so tonight--tonight is a fresh start yet again.  Tonight, I went without distractions for a couple of hours with my children, and those two hours were blissful.  The ability to be present is a gift, and I hope to seek that gift more often as I once again recommit to being accountable, being present, and being thankful for progress rather than shaming myself over imperfection.

Not Fair

I remember the first time I thought, "I could marry that guy."

My then-future husband and I had been dating for a couple of weeks at the time; I had really liked his fun personality, sharp wit, and good looks, but I had definitely gone into the relationship thinking that it was going to be a fleeting thing.  After all, I was due to leave on a mission in four months and he was planning on moving after the semester ended.

However, as a friend of mine (who was admittedly a little odd) approached me and asked me if I would ask my boyfriend to give her a Priesthood blessing, I watched my boyfriend's reaction as she asked him.  He was gentle and kind, despite her rather bizarre antics, and graciously agreed to find someone else to help him give her a blessing.

The blessing was beautiful--he blessed her with health, comfort, and a host of other very personal things that I'm sure were quite a strength to her.  And that was when I realized--I could marry this guy.  He is something special.

My relationship with God has always been a priority for me in my life, and so when I think about it, it should come as no surprise that the first time I was willing to commit to my future husband was when I saw him in such a spiritually powerful way.

As I left on my mission and read the letters he wrote to me, I was even more attracted to that side of him as he sent me letters that described temple attendance, service in the church, and scripture study--all in a humble, matter-of-fact way that alone bore testimony of simple but powerful habits cultivated over a long period of time.

Once I got home from my mission, we were engaged and married shortly afterwards, and from the first, I was surprised to see that his spiritual habits were nothing like what I'd expected them to be.  We'd sit in bed for hours at night together, me wanting and hoping for him to lead us in couples prayer before we fell asleep, and him knowing that I wanted him to lead out and stubbornly refusing to do it--this awful, silent, passive-aggressive struggle.  Every single night, after waiting uncomfortably and stalling for hours at a time, I would end up being the one to give in and ask if he wanted to pray.  To his credit, he always said yes, but it was rare, if ever, that he brought it up on his own.

This one particular example seemed to be his attitude towards a lot of spiritual things throughout our marriage; if I wanted something church-oriented or spiritual to happen in our family, I either had to remind/ask him about it, or it didn't happen, whether it be home teaching, scripture study, Family Home Evenings, or temple attendance.

This is not fair.  It's not what I signed up for--the very thing that made me most attracted to my husband was his spirituality, and to see him now, sleeping through church and forgetting or not caring about the majority of his church service--it makes me terrified, actually.  Why would someone so strong choose to change so much?

My mom often talks about "campaign promises," you know, someone's behavior before marriage becoming something completely different after the rings are on, but I don't think he was faking it when he married me.  I genuinely think he had a strong, close relationship with his Heavenly Father at the time; and to hear the stories he tells from his mission, I know he has had a testimony in the past.  And I think he still has remnants of a testimony--when I asked him about it in tears a week ago, telling him of my deepest fears that we had different priorities and were going in different directions, he insisted he knew the truth--of God's reality and the power of the Atonement.  Once in a while he'll volunteer a story about following the Spirit, but those stories are few and far between.  And it's been years since I've heard him bear testimony without being prompted.

I know I sound judgmental.  I probably also sound immature and hypercritical, which I guess I am.  It's true that I shouldn't pass judgment on my husband's spirituality; a person's relationship with God isn't something that can be accurately determined from outside actions, no matter how closely watched.

It's just hard to believe that my husband is putting God first when I don't see much evidence in his life, I guess.