You Are My Liberty

I'm incredibly grateful to live in a time and place that grants me so much freedom.  I seriously couldn't be any more blessed than I am now.  Every morning I wake up with the opportunity to choose what I will do that day--will I go to school or not?  Will I go to work or not?  What music will I listen to?  Who will I hang out with?  What will I eat?  Will Twinkies be involved?  How many Twinkies will be involved?

There are obvious right/wrong answers to several of the questions above.  Of course there are serious consequences if I choose not to go to school or to skip out on a day of work.  Consequences are a topic for another day though.  Today, I'm simply grateful for the existing ability to choose, a gift that I take for granted on a daily basis.  

For me, it has taken tasting a sampling of bondage to understand how incredible of a gift freedom truly is.  Addiction is a nasty master, and one that does not let go of its slaves easily.  I suspect I have many friends and family who can understand how difficult it is to get out from under the thumb of addiction--whether it's pornography, drugs, alcohol, food, social media, video games, etc, addiction can function to ruin a person's life by consuming every thought, action, and choice.  Once one is far enough into addiction, there is no longer such thing as a choice: one's actions become entirely centered on addictive fulfillment.  That is it.  There is no other option.  The freedom to choose is stolen away. 

But hope is not lost!  This is the beauty of recovery through the Atonement.  No matter the addiction, there is a way out.  Again, the slave master is not an easy one to escape.  It may takes months or years, therapy, group support, and even the loss of friends.  But there's always a light at the end of the dark tunnel of bondage: the light of freedom (that sentence sounded a lot more epic in my head, but let's roll with it).    

I think we all reach our freedom through different conduits.  It's important to distinguish between the means of reaching freedom and the source of the freedom itself.  They are two different things.  For instance, I find a lot of peace in music, both playing it and listening to it.  It can help me sort my thoughts and understand/express my feelings.  It is a powerful conduit to freedom.  It's a path.  But it's not the destination.  Music does not equal freedom, though it does help me to arrive there.  Others I know find great freedom through physical exercise, writing, sports, art, school, and other hobbies/activites.   Again, these are routes to freedom, but cannot function as the actual source of freedom.  None of these things by themselves are enough to truly help one escape addictive bondage.  

The source should be obvious.  You all know me!  Surely you know where I'm going with this by now.  Of course it's God!  There can be no other answer!  There can be no other way out!  God gives us the means to escape addiction; he gives us the skills, hobbies, and activities that give us the strength and the focus to escape.  But He is the source.  He is the escape.  He is the Master--not of slaves, but of free people.  He is our liberty.  

I truly feel bad for people who have no place in their hearts for God.  I just can't imagine life being completely fulfilling without some sort of conviction that there is a loving, omniscient God who cares.  I am grateful that I've been blessed with this conviction.  Heavens only knows I have my fair share of issues that I'm working out; but a firm belief in the existence of God is not one of those.  I know He's there.  Something inside me just knows.  

I hear God in beautiful, uplifting music.  I see Him in the majestic mountains that I've lived beneath for all of my life.  I feel Him in the Spirit that resides in my home.  I hear him in the voices of my mother and father.  I speak to Him through prayer.  He speaks to me through scripture.  He's loves me so much, that despite my overwhelming weakness, he allows me to choose what to do with each moment of my life.  And when I mess up, He doesn't abandon me.  Rather, He picks me up and tells me to keep going.  I find peace and freedom through many different outlets; but only because these outlets lead me to the One Great Being who is the source of freedom.  God is the breaker of chains.  God is the liberator of the addiction-ridden slave.  God is my liberty.  

Incredible progress is being made, and that simply would not happen without the love of God.  And to Him I am eternally grateful.  My name is Spencer.  I am a recovering addict, but a loved son of God who grants me freedom everyday.  With that freedom, I soldier on.  

I set these broken bones to cast

Stitch my wounds with holy sutures

Every saint has got a past

But every sinner's got a future

And only you could free my soul 

-Switchfoot 

The Greatest Men I've Ever Known

Can I start by saying I feel so incredibly blessed?  Seriously though.  As I look at my life, I see a lot of aspects that appear very empty.  I'm working on getting those filled; yet I can't help but be comforted by the notion that everything is going to be ok.  Somehow, despite all the things that are hard and lonely, I sit here knowing that everything will turn out the way it needs to.  I thank God for blessing me with that conviction.  It's what keeps me moving forward everyday.

God truly does know what we need.  I've been amazed to see this in my own life the last couple weeks.  He has given me a few special opportunities to spend time with some incredible friends who have inspired me and blessed me with their strength.  If there is one thing I've come to learn through these visits, it's that nobody is leading a perfect life.  We may put on the mask of perfection around our  friends or family, but behind closed doors we all face struggles that nobody could even dream of.  Life is no respector of persons; difficult things will/do/and are happening to each of us.  

As I walk the trail of my own recovery, I'm learning quickly not to judge other people based on what I observe from the outside.  Granted, I'm not perfect.  I don't forsee myself becoming perfect in the near future.  But I'm trying really hard to give people the benefit of the doubt and understand life from their eyes.  It's so easy to judge somebody based on their life situation, the choices they've made, etc.  One of the greatest ironies of ever, though, is how quick we are to judge one another when heavens only knows what it is we're struggling with in our own lives!  If we could only know, if we could truly understand what each individual around us is going through, I think we would all be ashamed of the judgemental thoughts that had previously passed through our minds.  

Again, I'm learning this lesson all the time because I'm far from perfect at this.  But as I've had the chance to talk to some good friends and hear their stories, I've realized that the greatest men I've ever known in my life are the broken men.  Whether they're broken as a result of their own choices or circumstances outside their control, it doesn't matter.  It's their brokenness, and their willingness to get up and keep pressing forward (sometimes against the waves of naysayers) that inspires me.   

How silly it is to expect our fellow human beings to live at some incredible standard of perfection while we sit by struggling with our own vices!  How silly it is to be soldiers in the single greatest fight over the souls of men and expect our fellow fighters to come out unscathed.  What if Helaman had judged the quality of his stripling warriors based on who had received wounds and who had not?  Not a single one of those soldiers would have remained in his army for long.  Though none of them died, all came out wounded, some having bled to the point of fainting.  Yet he commended each for his strength, for his valor, and for his willingness to continue fighting.  

So it is with life.  Some of us will walk off the battlefield at the end of the day with gaping wounds, and others with scratches.  But both need to be attended to, and both require sympathy from friends.  At the end of the day, though, not one of us will be judged for the wounds inflicted by others or by oneself; rather, we will be judged for a willingness to stand back up, bandage the wounds properly, and get back into the fight.  

To my friends in recovery, I say this: don't hate on yourself for being a wounded fighter.  Get up and bandage that wound (i.e. repentance process man!) and get back into the fight.  And if it takes bandaging wounds over and over again until you figure things out, so be it!  Feeling unworthy for having to repent multiple times is like refusing to cast a broken bone because you've broken several other bones before.  That's just stupid.  So never feel unworthy.

The greatest men I've ever known are fighters.  They've been knocked down, but they get back up.  They don't profess perfection; in fact, sometimes they're far too hard on themselves.  But they keep going.  They keep standing.  They can take hits and deal them back.  And that's why they're the greatest.  I want to be like those men.  Thank you for being my heroes.  

My name is Spencer.  I am a recovering addict, and I hope one day to be a force like the great men and women around me.  And so I soldier on.  

My Life is a Rolling Ball of 'Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?'

Seriously, though.  Have you ever had a moment where you looked back on the recent past of your life and gone, "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa the flip just happened to me?"  That's been me the last couple of weeks.  This past month has been....a whirlwind to say the least.  It's been hard.  It's been really hard.  I've had moments of intense loneliness and major confusion.  Yet, somehow, I seem to be passing through it.  

In the midst of dealing with all that confusion, I continue to bee-bop my way on through recovery.  In a recent Bishop's assignment, I was instructed to read 2 Nephi 4.  I love this chapter!  Anybody who knows what it's like to stink at something knows that this chapter rocks!  Not only does it offer the comfort that even the most awesome people in the world have struggled with things; but it also teaches that we are strong enough to escape those things!  I just always feel super encouraged when I read it.  I should probably read it more often for that very reason.

Anyways, while reading, I was to look for things that Nephi specifically does/mentions that helped him to draw closer to the Lord.  Imagine my surprise when.....I started learning new things!  Seriously, we talk all the time about how there's always something to learn from the scriptures, no matter how many times we've read them.  I learned so much this particular read-through that I could probably spend a couple posts solely on the learnings thereof.  Instead, I'm going to focus on one principle that stood out to me for the very first time.  

I get the impression from the first 26 verses that Nephi was relatively depressed about whatever things he was working on.  Yeah....been there done that!  It's so easy to say, "Well, I'm done doing this stupid thing now!"  It's so much harder to follow through and actually let it go.  Nephi begins to ask the important questions of himself, though: WHY should I sin?  WHY should I sin and be unhappy?  He reminds us that we hold all the cards; we're only as miserable and as enslaved as we allow ourselves to be.  Finally, Nephi states,  "Rejoice, O my heart..." (vs. 30).  Holy cow....I can be happy?  Even when I'm not perfect?  Even when life is all like "Don't be happy man!"  

As stated, these last four or five weeks have been some of the loneliest weeks of my recent past.  I have spent a lot of time by myself walking, contemplating, and eating Twinkies.  A few days ago, I was involved in such a contemplation walking a path alone on BYU campus.  As I was thinking on the topic of happiness, my mind wandered somewhere to which it wanders often in my quiet moments: Nacho Libre.  Immediately, I thought of the orhpans, bleary-eyed and miserable looking, sitting in class after a terrible breakfast awaiting the announcement from the one round-faced priest dude.  I honestly can't remember all that he said...just the beginning (and this must be imagined in the worst Mexican accent ever): "Orphans, smile and be happy...."  They did not smile.  Nor did they suddenly become happy.  In fact, we wouldn't see legitimate happiness writtin on their faces until they were fed a half decent salad and given a luchador-priest-fat-guy role model to look up to.  Yeah, their lives were hard!  I have unlimited access to good salads no matter how bad my day is!  Zupas is just right down the street.  Granted, I don't have a luchador-priest-fat-guy role model...but still!  Salad!

What is my point?  Looking back on that paragraph, I'm not really sure.  I think what I'm getting at is that we can choose to be happy.  Overcoming the hard times of life isn't about being miserable in the process.  It's about finding joy in the little moments of victory.  It's about drawing closer to friends and family.  It's about finding the path that God wants us to be on.  And God is a God of happiness.  So anything involving Him is meant to be happy--even if it is a struggle.  

Again, these last several weeks have been so hard, and very lonely in a lot of ways.  Yet, as I look back, I see some of the greatest joys a man could ask for.  I've been able to learn what true friendship is.  I am so lucky to have best friends that are also my family.  Thanks for watching out for me guys (you know who you are).  I've been able to participate in music (one of the greatest joys of my life!).  Though it sounds simple to some, playing music for a couple small groups in a local crepe shop has been one of the most liberating experiences for me.  Staying up until 4 am this last Friday working on new songs was equally enjoyable, though I suspect it will be weeks before I recover from that sore lack of sleep.  I've drawn closer to my family these last few weeks, and am so grateful for their love and support.  Most importantly, I've felt God's love for me in ways that I've been missing for some time.  Somehow I know I'm headed in the direction that I need to go, and He's walking with me every step of the way.  

Perhaps one last story to demonstrate my point of happiness in hard times?  Alas, it took place only a couple of hours ago on this fateful Monday morning.  You see, I have a most terrible habit of locking my keys in my truck about once a month.  It's become such a frequent occurence that I've learned to jimmy my back window open with a flathead screwdriver wrapped in cloth, conveniently allowing me to reach the ignition and grab my keys.  Today was no different.  I retrieved a flathead from my work's warehouse and went to work wiggling the back window open.  You need to understand, I'm always terrified that somebody is going to see me in the back of my truck and think I'm trying to break into some random dude's car.  Thus, I try to work as quickly as possible so to avoid any such misunderstanding from taking place.  After all, who would want to tell the cops that they were breaking into their own car on a relatively frequent basis because of an habitual oversight?  Super embarrassing. 

Perhaps this fear of misunderstanding led me to work a little too quickly this morning.  Perhaps the window was particularly frail from the recent morning cold.  Or perhaps I was just stupid.  I like to think it wasn't the last one.  It's no matter now, for as I sat there wiggling the flathead back and forth, my back window suddenly exploded in the most dramatic fashion possible!  I'm not talking a large crack or a single piece coming loose.  I mean, there was noise, there was glass everywhere, and there was Spencer looking terrified and guilty (as if I had a reason to be guilty) all at the same time!  Now, any sane person would've kept their cool, calmly reached for the keys, and acted as if nothing illegal had happened.  This they could do because, frankly, nothing illegal had happened.  But me, in my fit of fear that I might get arrested for something entirely not illegal, looked around to make sure no one was watching, dove in through the back window, grabbed the keys, flew back out of the window, jumped out of the back of the truck, opened the door, started the truck, and pulled out of that place as quickly as possible.  "Geez, man, could you have made yourself look anymore like a thief?" you may be asking.  And I answer: no.  No I could not have.  

I called my mom laughing only minutes later.  It was the most ridiculous situation I've found myself in for awhile now.  I could have been so mad about the broken window.  But at the end of the day, life's just to short to miss the humor in situations like that.  I'm grateful that I'm smiling right now.  I'd rather be happy with a broken window than sad....with a broken window.  The point is, what's done is done.  Choose to be happy and make the best of it!  Laugh when there's reason to laugh.  And this afternoon, I shall officially learn how to tape up a garbage bag over a gaping window-hole.  Good times. 

Wow, that was a long one.  I touched on loneliness, scripture reading, Nacho Libre, music, and broken things all in one post!  I deserve a Twinkie for that.  And if you made it this far, you deserve a Twinkie too.  Seriously, you earned it.  

My name is Spencer.  I am a son of God, a recovering addict, and I'm learning to find the joy of life even in the hardest of times.  And with that, I soldier on.  

The Power of Movement

I find a lot of meaning in the idea of "movement"; moving away from the tension of life; seeking redemption in not just the high, but also the low places.  Redemption moves and lives everywhere.  It's both below me when I fall to the ground and above me when I'm reaching for something higher.  It carries me when I move.  But I must move.  Redeption + movement = freedom.  Each requires the other to meet its full potential.  

And thus I find myself in a different place of recovery than I have ever been before.  The realization is finally striking me that redemption is all around.  But I have to move to access it.  I have to show that I want it, that I would do anything to have it.  I have to show that I am ready to be carried by starting my own walk in the right direction.  

I've been trying so hard to do this recently, and am incredibly blessed to have amazing friends and family helping me along the way.  A good sponsor, in particular, has helped me put together a plan of daily activities (the completion of which I am accountable for at the end of the day) that are helping me access the power of redemption in the small moments of my everyday life.  This plan is fueled by the concept of movement.  I'm accessing the redemption that is available to me by actually doing things.  I must act to recover.  I must move.  

It has been pointed out to me that I have put myself in an interesting position by being so public with the things I struggle with.  I must recover in order to bring hope to those around me who are also struggling.  Failure is not an option; not merely because I need to succeed for my own salvation, but also because I can be an example of success to other fighters.  People need to know that it is possible to beat pornography addiction.  I, with countless other successful men and women, can be that example.  While I have to want to beat it for myself, I'm learning to remember that my fight (and the corresponding success or failure) does and will effect the people around me.  

With that all being said, let me share two points of my daily "plan" that I have found particularly helpful in giving me strength to avoid temptation.  I hope others can seek things that help them to stay strong, just as these ideas have helped me.  

1) Daily Scripture Study and Working of the 12 Steps

I carpool into work with a couple guys who start work an hour and a half before I do.  After dropping them off, I've chosen to utilize my freetime to have a morning study session.  I go through 1-2 chapters of the Book of Mormon every morning.  I listen to the audio of the chapter while following along on my iPad.  I look for points of application as I read and listen.  After this, I do a brief review of the step that I'm working on in the LDS 12 Step Addiction Recovery book.  I answer the Study and Understanding questions at the end of the chapter I'm on, and journal about my thoughts and feelings concerning the step.  The scripture study helps me to find a deeper understanding concerning the points of the Atonement; the 12 Steps help me apply these points into my personal struggles.  

2) 2 Hours/Day of Reverent Music

Music plays a huge role in my life.  I love music like I love Twinkies....which is a lot.  To be honest, I love loud music that incorporates mucho electric guitar and drums.  I probably spend too much time with headphones in my ears blaring the wonderful power chord progressions of alternative rock music.  It's not inherently bad music, but also isn't the most reverent stuff I could be listening to.  That being said, I've found incredible strength in taking two hours out of my day to listen to reverent, reflective music.  From 10-11 am and 2-3 pm, I make a point to listen to only quiet hymns that help me focus on the Savior.  This has allowed me to utilize my love of music, yet still give specific time for the Spirit to speak through a quiet means.  I can't even emphasize how powerful this two hours of my day has proven to be.  It's a small thing, but has helped me to keep my focus as the hours of the day move on by.  

There are several other points to my daily plan that I won't share today....mostly because this post is starting to run pretty long.  The point is: movement.  Get up and move.  Do something about your struggles.  This will allow the full power of redemption to enter your life.  

Thanks to everyone who has asked when the next post was coming.  There have been several of you. I have five or six drafts written up from the past couple months that I just haven't felt right about.  Hence, the lack of posts.  I hope they start to become more frequent again, because I enjoy writing them!  Feel free to share your thoughts here, on Facebook, or at soldier.on.blog@gmail.com.  Thank you my friends.  I love you so much!

My name is Spencer.  I am a son of God who is drawing closer to God through movement.  Actual, real, involved movement.  And with that, I soldier on.  

"My friends!  The tension is here.  I dare you to move."  -Jon Foreman of Switchfoot  

Some Random Tidbits

I have a few things to discuss in this particular entry, so excuse the movement through some unrelated subjects.  I just have so much on my mind concerning my recovery, as well as things that I am incredibly grateful for that I would like to express. 

This first one I'm only going to preview.  I would actually like to spend a whole post on it.  But it's been on my mind enough today that I'd like to give anyone else to opportunity to ponder on the concept before I share my full thoughts.  First off, if you have never read Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage, you are doing your life a serious misjustice.  I joke not!  Get this book and read it.  You can even find it under the "Family" section of the LDS Gospel library app.  But for serious.  Read it.  I give this plug because I have found some very powerful personal insights today from chapter 24, which is entitled "From Sunshine to Shadow".  The first section in this chapter deals with Christ's healing of the youthful demoniac, an account of which can be found in Matthew 17, Mark 9, and Luke 9 of the New Testament.  I would encourage everybody to read this account, and, if possible, the accompanying interpretation from Elder Talmage.  Consider the application in our lives concerning our personal healing.  Whether it be from addiction, abuse, the poor choices of a loved one, a struggling marriage, a wayward child, or a poor habit that one is trying to overcome, we all have wounds that only the Savior can fully heal.  We all have demons that can only be cast out through a cooperative effort between our belief and Christ's power.  I have more thoughts to share, but I will do that next post.     

Nextly, and on an unrelated note, I would like to share my appreciation for my family.  I've been able to spend an incredible few days with them on what will be our last family vacation with our family as we know it.  I'm so grateful for them and the strength they are to me everyday.  I remember once upon a teenage stage, I was pretty much a jerk towards them.  Most of that came from the darkness of my addiction and my constant struggle to wear the mask of secrecy.  Plus, I also had some serious teenage 'tude.  But as I've grown, I've found one of the greatest resources I have in fighting my personal issues comes from the strength of my family relationships.  And I can say (particularly to any teenager who does not believe the words I'm saying), as I've sought to be honest with my parents and loving towards my siblings, I have found a form of freedom that I could have found no other way.  Now I have team members!  I don't have to fight alone.  Sure, sometimes I struggle to utilize my team.  I'd like to think I could do it all by myself.  But that's a rant for another day.  For today, I want them to know how grateful I am for them and the precious time we've had to spend together over this past week.  Thank you family, for your ever constant love.  You're amazing. 

Finally, as I've spent some time this past week mulling over my personal relationship with the Lord, I've been given some unique opportunities to witness the beauty that He places all around me.  In my personal opinion, it's very difficult to deny the existence of a supreme being when I look around me and see vast oceans that extend far beyond the horizon.  The sky, the trees, the mountains, and all other beautiful creations witness to me that there is a God.  I've been able to feel His love for me this past week.  I'd like to report that my new progress along step 3 is going well.  I've learned some significant lessons that will help me to progress.  More on that next post.  

Any thoughts, questions, or comments?  Feel free to share at the bottom of this page.  Anyone can email me at soldier.on.blog@gmail.com.  Thank you all so much for reading and supporting me in my journey.  You're all incredible!

My name is Spencer.  I am a recovering addict, and son of God who is grateful for His Father's blessings.  And with that, I soldier on.  

Trust In God

I have had a couple experiences these past weeks that have led me to better examine my relationship with God.  Upon so doing, I've realized my recovery is not quite as far along as I thought it was.  As stated before, I've been attending recovery meetings for coming up on a year.  The LDS addiction recovery stesp are formatted very similarly to Alcoholics Anonymous: there are 12 steps focused on pulling us out of the selfishness of our addiction, thus leading us to God and to serving our fellow man. I know these steps are inspired.  I've seen good men become great as they follow them.  That being said, I've had the smack in the face telling me that I myself need to follow them better.  

For me, steps 1-3 seemed pretty straightforward.  The first is to be honest with oneself and recognize your own powerlessness against your addiction.  This is meant to prepare you to recognize the importance of God's strength in your life.  I don't think I have an issue with honesty; whether with myself or the peeps around me, I'm pretty much just advertising my life (literally on Facebook every time I write a post!).  Step 2 is hope.  One needs to hope for something better, that recovery will indeed come as the work is put forward.  Step 3 is trust in God.  In theory, one has recognized and honestly acknowledged his powerlessness over his addiction previous to this point.  He is now prepared to accept the love and help of God.  

About a month ago I went ahead and moved on to step 4 thinking that I had the first three steps pretty well figured out.  I'm having the harsh realization that, while I'm getting pretty dang good at honesty and hope, I haven't spent the time necessary to develop a true, deep, and trusting relationship with God.  Sometimes in my mind he's like an abstract presence that is just going to fix my problems if I ask Him enough.  We preach the importance of praying, studying the scriptures, etc.  That's all incredibly important; but I need to put a being on the other side of those actions.  God needs to become more than the words on the page for me.

Don't get me wrong.  I have a faith in God.  I spent two years sharing His gospel with other people whom I've come to love dearly.  I know He loves me, and despite my stubborness, I know He's there.  But sometimes, for whatever crazy weird human reason, that doesn't make it any easier for me to trust Him.  I'm stubborn like a donkey.  I think I can do it all by myself, no help needed.  Well, that philosophy hasn't carried me very far. 

The opening paragraph in Step 3 of the LDS Addiction Recovery manual suggests that, through honesty and hope, we recognize all that God can do for us, and that through His doing, we can be healed.  In return, Step 3 is an opportunity to do the one thing we can do for God in return for the abundance of blessings he will share with us: we could open ourselves up and share our lives with Him.  We could use our agency to draw from His limitless strength rather than yield our limited strength to the devil.  In its purest, most simple essence, we could trust Him.  

To be perfectly honest with you, I have a damaged relationship with God that needs healing; and the damage has nothing to do with anything on His end.  On the contrary, He is doing everything He can on His end to hold onto me.  It's time I shape up and reach back out to Him.  I'm learning right now that, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, my own strength will never be enough to carry me through.  But now it's time I let go of my pride and allow myself to be carried.  So I think I'll be giving Step 4 a raincheck for just a little bit longer to work on the step I never quite finished.  

Thank you for reading, and thanks for your amazing support.  If there is anybody out there who is likewise struggling with addiction, I feel what you're going through!  I've created a new email: soldier.on.blog@gmail.com.  Anybody who may be struggling is welcome to open a correspondence with me at that email.  Sometimes it's nice to have somebody on your side fighting the same fight.  I love you, my friends!  

My name is Spencer.  I am a recovering addict.  And with God on my side, I'll soldier on.  

A Power Struggle

I am currently in a constant wrestle for power with good 'ol Satan.  Sometimes I lose, but a lot of the time I win.  It wouldn't be so frustrating except that our wrestling matches are akin to the beefiest, strongest, most potential-filled world wrestling champion going up against the local high school chess club president...and losing (at wrestling, not chess).  And seriously, this isn't some anomaly of a buff chess club president!  This dude is your run-of-the-mill, skinny, very white nancy drew (at risk of offending all chess club presidents out there, let me inform you I pretty much just described myself, minus the chess part).  And somehow, little nancy-man manages to put the smack-down on Hulk Hogan every now and again.  How does that even happen?  Better question, is Hulk Hogan even a wrestler?  He might be a punching-fighter guy...maybe a kick boxer?  Who knows.  It's all fake at the end of the day.

Think about it, though.  There's only one way the skinny kid could ever beat the beast in the wrestling ring: if the wrestling champion let's him win.  There's no other conceivable way this could ever happen.     The beast-man simply has to say, "You know what?  I don't feel like winning today.  So I relinquish all my awesomness to this tiny little man.  I don't care that this puts my career at risk or makes a laughingstock of my reputation; it's just easier not to try this time."  Meanwhile, little-man is all like, "Whoooo! I'm not going to get my behind handed to me today!"  Because he knew that otherwise, there was no way he was going to win this match.  

This is my life.  While physically, I may more closely resemble the tiny chess man, I actually consider myself a spiritual giant.  Sure, I have weaknesses, flaws, and things that generally keep me from further progression....but don't we all?  I'm trying to improve myself everyday and workout the "spiritual muscles" that are going to help me win in my day-to-day matches.  But while I'm certainly not perfect and have not yet reached my full potential, I think my desire to improve makes me a good man and a fighter with real promise.  Meanwhile, Satan thinks he's awesome just because he's clever enough to win some chess matches;  but at the end of the day, he has no influence or power over me in a man-to-man face-off....unless I give it to him.  This is where my current frustration lies.  I have the abilities to win 100% of my fights with Satan in my struggle with pornography, but it requires me to want to win 100% of the time.  

Elder Dallin H. Oaks summed up the destructive relationship between the tempter and the temptee in a conference talk from October 2004 entitled Be Not Deceived.  He said:

"Satan also seeks to deceive us about right and wrong and persuade us that there is no such thing as sin. This detour typically starts off with what seems to be only a small departure: “Just try it once. One beer or one cigarette or one porno movie won’t hurt.” What all of these departures have in common is that each of them is addictive. Addiction is a condition in which we surrender part of our power of choice. When we do that we give the devil power over us. The prophet Nephi described where this leads: the devil says, “There is no hell,” and, “I am no devil, for there is none--and thus he whispereth in their ears, until he grasps them with his awful chains, from whence there is no deliverance."  

To my fellow recovering addicts, I know how frustrating it is to feel like you are constantly in the bonds of the adversary.  People around us ask in constant frustration, "Why can't you just stop it?"  Some even treat us with resentment or hate because of our weaknesses.  Do not let this impede your fight.  No outside force can stop you from moving forward unless you give it power to, including Satan himself.  I say this as much to myself as to anybody else, because I for one desperately need to hear it.  Satan may seem intimidating and clever, but he truly is only as powerful as we allow him to be.  So get up and keep moving forward.  

To those who look upon an addict with any sort of apprehension, please know that the frustration you feel over them is magnified by 100 within themselves.  I personally can say there are some days where it's difficult to live with myself and my mistakes.  When I say I'm learning to love myself again, I really mean that in the most real sense.  If that's not enough to just "stop it", then there must be more to this thing.  We could use your help in this fight.  Your love, encouragement, and open-armed acceptance would mean so much more than rejection and anger to the addicts in your life.  

Woof, that was a tangent if there ever was one.  You know what's cool about having your own blog?  You can get off on tangents whenever you want!  Anywho, bringing it back.  Nephi talks about how in the final days, we will look upon Satan and say, in essence, "This is the guy who caused us so many issues?"  He will look that small and weak; we will see him as the nancy drew that he really is.  We will wonder how it was that he had so much influence over us in our earthly lives when, clearly, we had every advantage over him.  I for one am looking forward to that day.  In the meantime, though, I need to learn to see Satan for who he is: not a beastly, tough, fighting champion; but rather a weak, tiny, though admitedly clever nancy drew.  But cleverness is all he has.  And his cleverness is a falsety.  We have wisdom, strength, and the backing of an eternal God to keep pushing us forward.  

I don't know if this post made any sense.  In case you can't tell, I'm experiencing some intense internal frustrations right now.  Thanks for reading my rant, if you've made it this far.  Here's the sum-up:  we are made to be amazing.  We are made to be strong.  We are made to beat the adversary, and will only ever lose if we allow ourselves to.  For me, it's time to pull out of the rut of mediocrity and start being the man I was sent here to be.  Satan cannot stand in my way unless I allow him to. If I choose to stop handing over my power to win, he has no chance in the fight against me.  If I choose to rely on the ultimate trainer, my Savior, I will be given strength far beyond that which my opponent holds.  I thank my God for not giving up on me and for standing by me through the self-inflicted losses.  He believes in me. I thank each of you for your help and support in pushing me forward.  With the help of one another, we can each win our personal fights against Satan and regain the power that is rightfully ours.  

My name is Spencer.  I am a son of God and a recovering addict. I have the abilities to beat Satan if I allow myself to.  God loves me, and I love Him.  And with that, I soldier on.  

To My Mom

Yesterday I had one of those "parent talks".  Those are hard to have.  I know it shouldn't be this way, but through all the years of working through my addiction, my parents have always been the hardest to talk to.  It's not that I want to hide things from them or anything.  I just respect them so much that I worry about constantly disappointing them.  I don't like sharing the things that I've done poorly on, especially when they're the same things that I've done poorly on about a bajillion times in the past.  It must be frustrating for them.  I know it's frustrating for me.  Yet, at the end of every one of our interviews, I always feel their love and support; for that, I am grateful.  

Today is Mother's Day.  I feel strongly to share my feelings for my mother.  She has been an anchor to me throughout my life, even outside working through this addiction.  She's always a willing, listening ear; she's compassionate beyond belief; she works incredibly hard to provide a clean, beautiful, and comfortable home for us to return to each day; she helps with homework, prepares meals, runs errands, takes us to the doctor, and arranges fun activities. In short, she sacrifices time, energy, and personal interests to look out for the well-being of her family.  

Where would I be without the compassion of my mom? I hate to even think of the answer, but I know much of the credit for my willingness to face the things I do wrong goes to the love of my mother.  I can still distinctly remember the first time my parents became aware of my struggles as a young teen.  My dad was the first to speak to me, agreeing to talk to my mom to give her the heads-up.  I sat in my basement bedroom as they talked upstairs, dreading the imminent discussion I was going to have with my mother.  I was ashamed and disgusted that I had acted against the pure virtue that emnates from my mom.  When my dad came to get me, telling me my mom wanted to talk with me now, I cried and refused to go upstairs.  The thought of admitting to my mom what I had done was more than I could bear.  It took several minutes to convince me to go talk to my mom.  Naturally, she responded with pure love and understanding, as she has ever since then.  It is this kindness that has given me such powerful motivation to become a better person with every passing day.  

To this day I still struggle to include my mom in my day-to-day struggles.  Yesterday she made me promise that I would do better at this.  I know she loves me and wants to help.  I want to give her that opportunity, even though it scares the living bajeebies out of me.  In an October 1973 General Conference talk entitled "Behold Thy Mother", then-Elder Thomas S. Monson stated, "Men turn from evil and yield to their better natures when mother is remembered."  He went on to share the following story:

"A famed officer from the Civil War period, Colonel Higgenson, when asked to name the incident of the Civil War that he considered the most remarkable for bravery, said that there was in his regiment a man whom everybody liked, a man who was brave and noble, who was pure in his daily life, absolutely free from dissipations in which most of the other men indulged. One night at a champagne supper, when many were becoming intoxicated, someone in jest called for a toast from this young man. Colonel Higgenson said that he arose, pale but with perfect self-control, and declared: “Gentlemen, I will give you a toast which you may drink as you will, but which I will drink in water. The toast that I have to give is, ‘Our mothers.’” Instantly a strange spell seemed to come over all the tipsy men. They drank the toast in silence. There was no laughter, no more song, and one by one they left the room. The lamp of memory had begun to burn, and the name of “Mother” touched every man’s heart."

The name of my mother gives me incredible strength.  I will make further commitment to include her in my life, the good and the bad.  Her incredible strength and spirituality will continue to strengthen me.  I thank her for loving me no matter what and believing in me despite my weakness.  I love you so much, mom.  

President Monson finished his 1973 talk with this statement: "May each of us treasure this truth; one cannot forget mother and remember God. One cannot remember mother and forget God. Why? Because these two sacred persons, God and mother, partners in creation, in love, in sacrifice, in service, are as one."  

My name is Spencer.  I am a son of God and a recovering addict.  I love my mom so much and credit her for much of my strength and determination.  And with that, I soldier on.  

Compassion Pt. 2: Lessons Learned From Children

As I have been working to develop a greater sense of compassion, I have learned some powerful lessons from the examples of children.  I believe that adults can learn some of their greatest lessons from the pure, unassuming tendencies of the children in their lives.  This certainly has been the case with me, particularly over the last couple of weeks.  Two instances in particular stand out in my mind.  

The first is really a warm-fuzzy occurence more than anything.  I had the chance to substitue in a primary class at church a couple of Sundays ago.  I love primary.  Like, I hope every calling I'm ever given lands me in the primary.  My maturity levels peaked at about age 9, so I feel like I fit in perfectly there!  I like to stand and sing while doing crazy hand motions; I like saying random comments that don't really pertain to anything; and most of all, I like treats.  Primary is where I belong.  Anyways, this particular group consisted of 9-10 year olds.  I especially enjoyed spending the second hour with them in sharing time.  The kids sang a welcome song to my friend and I (whom I was substituting with), and constantly were involving us in their activities, songs, scripture recitation, etc.  There was only smiles for the whole hour.  I could almost physically feel the purity emnating off of the children, reminding me of why the Savior is so compassionate to the little ones.  They truly are the pure and most loving among us.  I feel more welcomed in a room full of kids then I do in a room full of adults, knowing that they hold no judgement because they generally see no fault.  I want to live up to those expectations; but I also want to treat all people around me with that same kind of pure, unassuming love that children have.  

The second instance was far more specific, and will likely be an event that I hold dear in my heart for a long time (does that sound cheesy?  That totally sounds cheesy....but it's true!).  I'm pretty sure for awhile now, most of my siblings have been aware of my addiction.  My little brother and first little sister have been incredibly supportive to me for a long time now.  The baby sister, though, having just turned twelve, has never really been old enough to guess that anything was going on until recently.  

That all changed very quickly the day after I posted my first blog just a couple of weeks ago.  When I returned home from work that afternoon, my mom was telling me about some of the positive response she had received concerning the blog (thank you all for your wonderful support!).  Baby sis, in the meantime, is listening and interjecting questions that only a youngest sibling would do during the middle of an adult conversation: "What did Spencer do?" "What did Spencer do?" "What did Spencer do?" "What did Spencer do?"  When we finally decided to acknowledge the question-asking, mom invited me to share with sis what was going on.  

There are a lot of positives to being the oldest sibling.  I have been around for the entirety of my little siblings' lives and have been able to watch them grow from brand-new babies to where they are now.  I can still remember the first time I held baby sis in the hospital after she was born.  I remember changing her diapers, giving her baths, playing with her, and loading her up in some fancy bike carrier to take her on bike rides.  She will always be an innocent, wide-eyed, cute little girl in my eyes.  That being said, it was incredibly difficult to look her in the eyes this particular afternoon and explain my addiction to her.  

I will never forget the response.  After explaining the basics of the addiction to her, and answering the questions she had, she took just a moment to let it sink in.  Then, without any further hesitation, she asked me to go on a walk with her and the dog.  It was like the conversation hadn't even happened!  She accepted what I struggled with and immediately moved on.  We went on a nice walk together where we talked about school, boys, and all the things twelve year old girls are thinking about.  There was zero judgement and zero disgust.  She has been only kind to me ever since.  I know that she's doesn't define me but the thing that I struggle with.  She sees me as the big brother who has helped to take care of her for twelve years.  I could not have been more grateful for the pure and unassuming love of my baby sis.  She did an amazing service to her oldest brother that day.  

I'm learning everyday to be more compassionate.  I wish I could say I could love purely and forgive frankly as Nephi did, and as my sister so perfectly demonstrated to me.  I wish I could be the innnocent child that I once was.  But I know that over time, I can develop those qualities again and become more like a child in the way that I love people.  I love my sisters and brothers and appreciate the lessons they are teaching me everyday.  I'm grateful for children, and the important examples they are to us judgement-filled adults.  

My name is Spencer.  I am a son of God and a recovering addict.  I'm learning lessons everyday from the truly pure among us--the children.  And with that, I soldier on.  

Brother, Let Me Be Your Shelter

Tonight I have been able to witness the true power of brotherhood.  I've often thought about the meaning of being my "brother's keeper", but am just now starting to understand what that really means.  I've had the powerful experience this last week of hearing from other men, for whom I have nothing but respect, as they have shared some of their experiences and struggles with me.  I, in turn, have been able to express my feelings, doubts, and struggles to them.  A great bond of brotherhood has been formed through those simple conversations.  I want nothing more than to be there next to those good men to support them in times of their trial, knowing that those opportunities will equally (if not more so) bless me in times of weakness.  To these great men: please know that I love you so much.  As sons of God and brothers in His family, I know we can pass through these trials together.

I am blessed with brothers all around me.  I have one actual, literal brother, and I love him very much.  I am frequently impressed by his strength and courage and try my best to be half the man that he is.  I have a father who can say it like it is, which helps to keep me on track. But he also looks on me in all my weakness with great compassion and patience.  I have other members of my family for whom I am grateful, and whose friendships I consider incredibly valuable.  I also am blessed with great friends who have buoyed me up and carried me on the way as I have needed help.  

I have a deep appreciation (as expressed above) for my brothers in recovery.  For your strength, your experiences, your wisdom, and perspective I am eternally grateful.  You've helped me to see that I am never alone.  While participating in the readings at my group meeting last night, there was one line in particular that really resounded with me: "My friends in recovery are more dear to me than almost any other relationship I have."  I feel the Savior's love when I am with the people who are looking for it with the greatest diligence.  Thank you, my brothers.  

My greatest thanks must go to my brother and Savior, Jesus Christ.  Without Him, recovery would not be possible.  It is the gift of His Atonement that allows me, step-by-step, to find my way back to Him.  I know His blessings apply to all of us as long as we seek Him out in faith and put into practice the great gift of repentance.  He won't just take our temptations away from us, but He will teach us how to stand against them and give us the strength necessary to do so.  I know He loves me in my weakness, as He loves each one of us as we struggle individually.  And I'm grateful He has given me brothers to stand by me and march with me in my fights.  

Let's cap this one off with a link to a song!  One of my favorite bands, called NEEDTOBREATHE, released a fantastic album a few weeks ago called Rivers In The Wasteland.  I was particularly touched by the song Brother from the album.  I think we've all been placed here to love and support each other through our trials and not resent each other for our weaknesses.  "Brother, let me be your shelter.  I'll never leave you all alone."  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ub1q16hLxJg

My name is Spencer.  I am a son of God and a brother of Christ who is recovering from addiction, and I love all my brothers very much.  And with that, I soldier on.  

Is It Fear We're Afraid Of?

In a song recently released by my favorite band, an interesting concept and questions are posed: "We find what we're made of through the open door.  Is it fear you're afraid of?  What are you waiting for?" (Switchfoot, Love Alone Is Worth the Fight).  Throughout the course of life, we are presented with a series of open doors.  Through these doors lie the potential for great happiness, success, and fulfillment of personal potential.  Why would we ever choose to not pass through those doors?  I suppose it's because it's never just "that easy" to walk through the door.  There is usually a strong sense of sacrifice, and even a leap of faith that precede passing through the darkness and into a new and happier stage of life. And with leaps into the dark come fear of what lies before us.  

What is it that we fear?  I think that is a very personal question that each of us could answer differently. Based on our circumstances in life, age, abilities, weaknesses, and strengths, we all have different things that cause us to fear.  I have several of my own that, when given enough power, drive me to do negative things like act out in my addiction.  I have had to come to terms with many of these as best as I can to truly understand myself enough to begin overcoming my weaknesses.  I fear failure.  I fear what other people are going to think of me when they discover my weaknesses.  I fear myself and how I will react to my own relapses (is it weird to say that I'm in an emotionally abusive relationship with myself?).  I greatly fear losing the things and the people that I love most as a result of my poor choices.  I fear standing before God one day and telling Him that I was a coward.  I fear having to tell Him that I failed.

One would think that these fears would be motivation enough to stop doing stupid things.  The ironic thing is that it is these fears that drive me further into doing stupid things.  Fear controls me.  Fear drives me.  Fear keeps me from running through the initial dark to get to the light shining through the open door.  Fear keeps me running back to addiction like a freakishly dependent child.  I want to live independently, but I don't know how to.  Fear takes my power from me and hands it to my addiction.  Fear doesn't motivate me; it immobilizes me.  It's because of this that I can answer in the affirmative to the question, "Is it fear you're afraid of?"  

So I suppose I should not be asking what it is that I fear.  I should be determining what fear is and how I can overcome it.  Here are the conclusions I've come to thus far: fear is a falsety.  Fear is an illusion.  Fear really only exists if I allow it to exist.  I know this is getting all philosophical, but think about it!  What is fear if we never give it power?  What is fear if we never give it ammunition?  What is fear if we never feed it from the buckets of our insecurities?  Fear is nothing but a power that we choose to relinquish; a bullet that we choose to load into the empty chamber of the gun pointed at our hearts.  If we choose to withold that power from our personal demons, our fear will cease to exist; and with it will go the negative and painful results that come from fearing. Our courage will then have the opportunity and ability to grow in an incredible way that we never previously thought possible.

 I have felt a great sense of relief over this past week as I have come to the important realization that I can choose to stop fearing fear.  I can reclaim that power that I have pitifully been handing over to equally pitiful, unseen demons, and use it to add to my strength in my battle.  In short, my friends, there really is nothing to fear as we move forward towards those open doors in our lives.  You need not be experiencing recovery from an addiction to understand what I'm talking about.  This applies to all of us in our personal battles.  We do not need to be controlled by the evil that is fear; rather, we can reserve that strength for ourselves and move forward with courage.  There are great things waiting behind those open doors.  It is well worth setting aside fear in order to obtain those things that will make us most happy.  

My name is Spencer.  I am a recovering addict and a son of God who is learning to let go of his fears.  And with that, I soldier on.  

Love Yourself Too

I would imagine that at some point in our lives, we have all felt beat down to almost nothing.  Life is a crazy thing, isn't it?  We're all fighting some sort of battle; maybe some more than others, but that doesn't mean life is easy for anybody.  I'm a firm believer that behind every closed door and every pair of closed eyes, there is a battle being waged.  Every individual has a struggle; every family has a crisis; every community has a tragedy; the world in general is a place wrought with tension.  Surely it's impossible to live in this world without some sort of conflict, whether internal or external.

What's truly amazing to me is how incapable we are of perceiving each other's struggles and seeing only each other's successes; yet we do the exact opposite for ourselves.  Even as I sit here in a McDonald's typing this paragraph, the people around me look normal and happy.  From the outside, there truly appears to be nothing wrong.  Now I'm not here to advocate an open broadcast of each person's struggles.  That certainly is not appropriate, nor would it be helpful in every individual case.  What I am here to suggest is that we need to avoid the tendency to compare our internal conflicts with the seemingly external perfection of the people around us. 

I can speak on this because I am the pro at personal unfair comparisons.  I rake myself over the coals daily for the internal turmoil and temptations I am fighting everyday.  I have a tendency to define myself based on the mistakes I make, the relapses I have, or the inappropriate thoughts that pass through my head.  I have a very difficult time taking into consideration the many successes and victories I experience in my day-to-day existence.  And then, to make matters worse, I compare that messed-up, troubled, lustful Spencer to the outwardly happy, perfect, and life-enjoying people that I interact with everyday.  It's almost impossible for me to comprehend their problems because, like me, they generally are internal and private.  

Now tell me, how is this kind of comparison fair?  I'm speaking to anybody who knows what it feels like to feel like a nobody because it seems like everybody is doing better than you.  You know that feeling.  How can your inwardly messed-up person ever own up to the outwardly perfect people around you?  I'm here to say that it can't, but it's not fair to ever expect it to.  We all struggle and we all fight.  This is a fact of life, and it's time that we stop hating ourselves for it!  My call today is not for compassion to one another; it's for compassion to ourselves.  It's time we learn to love ourselves for our successes and victories, and stop hating ourselves for our losses and bad days, especially when we're comparing those losses to others' successes.  While it is incredibly important to love other people (and it's through doing so that we will find great strength in overcoming our own weaknesses), there is an important first step that needs to be taken, and that's learning to love oneself first.  In the war that I'm fighting, that's definitely one of the battles that I have yet to conquer.  I talked last pose about my growing ability to feel compassion towards other people.  I haven't found that same kind of compassion for myself yet.  But it's something I'm looking for, and I know that learning to love myself is just as important to my recovery as learning to love other people.  

My name is Spencer.  I am a recovering addict and a son of God who is learning to love himself again.  And with that, I soldier on.  

Compassion Pt. 1: Lessons Learned From My Dog

This is my dog Olivia.  Yes....Olivia.  You are correct; that is totally a human name. I'm not sure how this dog ended up with a human name.  For the record, I wanted to name her Jaws....mostly because I've never had a goldfish of my own to name Jaws.  I also wanted to name our parakeet Jaws.  The greatest irony of it all?  I've never even seen the movie Jaws.  Chew on that for a little while (no pun intended).  

So one may ask, why is it that Olivia has become the foundation for my second ever blog post on a blog focused on overcoming pornography?  This is a fair question to be sure.  You see, this adorable and mildly-confused-looking dog has actually taught me a lot about compassion.  Is it silly to say that I've actually learned things from this lazy-eyed Maltese?  Perhaps.  But I can't help wishing I could be more like the simple-minded Olivia in the way that I view people.  

Say the world's greatest serial killer has broken free of his underground cell in that prison where Bane was born.  He is on the loose and is not afraid to display it.  He wears crazy serial killer clothing, carries gnarly serial killer weapons, and has an eye patch over his left eye.  It could not be more obvious that not only is this guy dangerous, but he should definitely not be trusted (nothing against people with eye patches, unless they are carrying crazy serial killer weapons).  Somehow in the midst of his runnings and killings, he ends up in my humble town in Utah...on my driveway...walking into my house.  

I'm pretty sure we own a gun, but we're not exactly "gun savvy" people.  We should probably learn how to use the thing in case such a terrible situation befalls us.  The best we could do in the meantime  is throw the gun at the guy's head and hope for the best.  And while we are all running away diving out the windows (probably because the family trusted me to throw the gun, but heavens knows my aim is terrible) we hope that our great protector Olivia will save the house.  Alas, Olivia approaches the man who could not be any more dangerous looking...and rolls over so he can rub her belly.  There is zero judgement on her part, particularly if the words "treat" or "walk" leave the man's lips.  She will love pretty much unconditionally.  

We leave Olivia at the house by herself frequently as we are busy with our human duties.  She clearly does not appreciate this neglect to her needs of play and attention.  Yet, everytime we return home, there's no sign of disappointment, anger, or grudge-holding on the part of the dog.  There's only a wagging tail on an eager dog ready to play.  It's almost like nothing "bad" had ever happened to her.  In other words, no matter how we physically look, act, or even smell; no matter if we've accidentally stepped on her tail or had to leave her at home for eight hours, Olivia loves us and is happy to see us.  

So how does this tie in to my story?  I swore to myself that if I were to write a blog on my experiences, it would be a blog of positivity.  I intend to set that trend for myself right now.  I've heard a lot of people say over the last year that they are grateful for their addictions because of the life-changing lessons that they have learned while experiencing recovery.  The difficulty of the addiction itself makes it hard to believe that anybody could ever be grateful for the experiences they have been through.  But I'm at a point in my life and recovery where I'm finally experiencing this gratitude for myself.  I'm seeing changes and life-altering lessons taking place that I may never have seen otherwise.  

Through the self-guilt and frequent arraigning that I put myself through, I've learned to be so much more compassionate to the weaknesses of those around me.  The Lord knows I have no place to judge anybody.  The greatest sinner on the face of this earth has just of good a chance at getting into Heaven as I do as long as he chooses to change.  I'm grateful that the mental barriers of prejudice and disgust are being lifted from my sight and that I'm getting the opportunity to see the struggling souls around me as what they really are--children of God who are fighting everyday to do better.  I recognize how difficult it is to fight those personal demons because I am doing it almost every minute of every day.  I appreciate the toll that it takes on a person, physically, mentally, and emotionally.  We're all fighting the same fight, just in different arenas.  

I'm not yet as compassionate as I'd like to be.  I still have a lot of learning to do.  But I can honestly say I'm grateful for the personal growth I've experienced in that particular aspect of my life because of the recovery process I am working through right now.  I know our weaknesses can faciliate a certain strengthening that would be difficult to obtain through any other mode or method.  And while I don't particularly desire the life of a dog (though the frequent massages, naps, and treats would be nice), I wouldn't mind having the pure, simple love of tiny Olivia.  If we could all learn to treat each other in such an unjudging way, we'd find ourselves in a much better place. 

My name is Spencer.  I am a son of God and a recovering addict who is trying to be more compassionate to others.  And with that, I will soldier on.  

**Disclaimer** I do not condone or support trusting a serial killer just because my dog would.  In fact, you probably just shouldn't do that.  Ok, so my dog analogy wasn't perfect.  Get over it. 

Honesty Heals

I write this, not because it is easy for me, or even because I want to write this.  This is the most terrifying thing I've ever done.  What you will all think of this, I know not. But I follow in the footsteps of brave men and women whom I have had the great privilege of personally knowing--men and women who have not only owned up to their inner demons, but have done so in the blaring light of the public eye.  I have long wished to be as strong as these amazing people.  I hope that sharing my story brings me even a little closer to that goal.  

"Hi.  My name is Spencer.  I am a grateful son of God, and I am a recovering addict from pornography."  I've said that phrase almost once a week for the past eight or nine months.  I'm incredibly grateful for the group of men (whom I would call friends and brothers) in my Wednesday night support group who have listened to my weekly rantings.  It is there that I have found a compassion coming from men who are just as acquainted with hell as I am.  It's comforting to know that I'm not alone.  It's comforting to know that others struggle, and that many are successfully conquering their addiction every day.  If they can do it, surely I can.  

I began attending group willingly and on my own, and pretty much loved it from the moment my first session it began.  I truly can say I've felt Christ's purest love while in a room of some the most broken men I know (myself included).  I've made friends who can relate in ways I that I never thought anybody could relate to me.  Tonight (29 Apr 2014), I will begin attending a second group.  I anticipate a powerful, spiritual surge as I begin attending  two meetings in one week. If anyone who happens to read this would like to attend with me, please let me know. Like me, you will find great strength there.  I also see a therapist frequently, have a willing and loving sponsor, and an amazing family that has stood by me through thick and thin.

So why the blog?  I'm not a blog person.  I hate how dramatic I sound when I write.  Seriously, I don't mean to sound all apocalyptic.  But it just happens!  Anywho, the blog has been a long time coming.  I've tossed around some ideas over the past 6 months, but have scrapped them pretty quick.  But this past month has been another slip into some difficulties after a year of solid (though admittedly slow) progression.  I'm scared by this last month.  In fact, I hate what this last month has done to me.  So it comes to this blog and complete, open disclosure.  We are as sick as our secrets; and if honesty is the healing balm for a sickness long-endured, then let's slather on the honesty.  I will let the world know that I struggle with and that I fight pornography addiction; sometimes I lose, but a lot of the time I win.  I'm tired of the losing parts…it's time for those to go away.  The fight is never so dark that we must give up, though.  I'm learning that everyday of my life.  And so I will move forward.  Sometimes you've just got to put the right in front of the left and soldier on; if that's all you can do, then that's good enough. 

My name is Spencer.  I am a son of God and a recovering addict.  I have about an hour of sobriety and a hope for something better.  And with that, I soldier on.