Clean Out Your Own Fridge

Yesterday, I happened to look at my bank accounts.  I wasn't trying to snoop on my husband (that's happened before, but it wasn't the motivation this time), I had a deposit to make--but--I happened to see how much he had been spending on junk food in the past little while.  I added up all the expenses just from the weekend, and although I won't tell you the grand total, I will tell you that it totaled up to roughly one fourth of our entire month's food budget.

You know that scene when a cartoon character gets mad or freaks out and their head turns red and steam comes out of their ears while a train whistle sounds?  That's about how I felt.

I felt furious, terrified, unsafe, and angry, to say the least.  I texted my sponsor and let her know what was going on, and then I started panicking....and the thoughts started multiplying.  I can't be married to a guy who does this kind of thing.  When I'm scrimping and saving just to get by, he goes out to eat for every single meal!  It shows what an addict he really is, to behave so selfishly.  I should go in and wake him up and tell him just what I think and let him really have it!  It's not fair!  I didn't sign up for this!

Etc, etc, etc.

Thankfully, I didn't actually act on my panic (other than digging through my husband's car for junk food and devouring as much as I could handle in five minutes, that is).  I remembered, just in time, what I've been learning in my 12 steps, and so I tried to act on Step One and turn it over to God.  I went into the front room, knelt by my couch, and poured my heart out to my wise and oh-so-loving Heavenly Father.

"Father, I'm SO mad.  I'm scared and mad and furious that my husband would spend so much money on junk food when we're trying so hard to get by.  I'm afraid of what this behavior means and I don't know what to do.  I want to wake him up and yell at him--I'm panicking right now--"

Then I got to the important part: "What would Thou have me do?"

The thought came to my mind, clear as day, and completely unexpected: "Clean out the fridge."

I was surprised.  I'd had clean the fridge on my to-do list for days weeks months now (it was really disgusting), but at a time like this?  I was sure my answer would be something like "Write a rant on your blog" or "Sit and read the scriptures" or "call someone and vent to them," but something as prosaic and, I don't know--non-spiritual--as "clean the fridge?"

So I asked again.  "Are you sure?"

And the answer came again, this time with a little clarification: "Clean out the fridge and tally up the amount of food you've wasted by not being more organized."

Ah.

I understood.  It's so easy to point out all of the things my husband does wrong. I've been doing that for months now--and the awareness of his behaviors had to be a part of my healing, yes.  But part of being meek, part of healing--part of becoming like the Savior, in fact--is learning how to focus on my own fridge.  Focusing on my own responsibilities.  Focusing on my own stewardship and not worrying so much about what other people out of my control--my husband, in this case--are doing.

So, I cleaned out my fridge, I estimated and wrote down a total price on the worth of the food I had let go bad by not using a menu or checking my fridge before buying/making food, and even though it wasn't near the same amount my husband had spent, the lesson had been taught.  I was humbled to realize that even though Heavenly Father has been patient with me and what I've let go as I've tried to survive this rocky past few months, even though He loves me no matter what and has let me know that in a multitude of ways, He still expects me to be patient, meek, and humble.  And once in a while, the only way He can get me to be that way is by forcing me to look in my own fridge.

"None is acceptable before God, save the meek and lowly in heart."  ~Moroni 7:44

After my husband woke up that evening, I was able to approach him--in a humble, meek way, rather than the accusatory one I had planned earlier that day, and let him know that we had a problem.  I told him the ways I was planning on doing better, and then I asked him to give me his debit card and start using a cash allowance (a boundary we had decided months ago to help with his shopping habits and discontinued).

I do feel the need to enforce boundaries with my husband; those boundaries are what keep me safe and us out of debt--however, I don't have to do so in anger or self-righteous judgment.  All I have to do is remember that fridge full of moldy, disgusting food, and it reminds me:

Clean out your own fridge first.

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.