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.