Easter Morning:

Easter Morning: Taking His Hand

I opened my eyes. I glanced at the clock. It was early. I always wake up early. I had not forgotten. It was the last thing I was thinking of when I dozed off to sleep. I had a few hours to get ready.

As I began to get dressed a pang of grief hit me in the stomach. I felt ashamed. I hope the sickness in my stomach passes. I resist the feeling of personal failure and go to the box at the end of my bed.

Maybe I could forget about it momentarily as I go grab something to eat. I cannot shake from my mind the finality of this day. Preoccupied, I eat my breakfast somewhere else. I am no longer at the breakfast table.  A movie begins to play in my mind. An old movie projector flashes memories of the last 12 years. I am being shown my joy.  I used to feel so happy. I remember that feeling. Sadness and loneliness take over. I watch myself scramble and fight for love. It was so many years. I was completely unaware of what was going on. I am not looking forward to what comes next. I watch my heart drop. It shatters into thousands of pieces. I tried so desperately to catch it. How can I ever put it back together? I was angry. So very angry!! How did I let this happen? Look at what a fool I had been! I looked at my loss. Oh how I bargained. I just knew there was something I could do. I knew if I tried hard enough that it would all be okay…nothing I tried worked. My efforts proved to not be enough.

The sound of my alarm brought me back…

 It was time.

I went back upstairs and grabbed the box off my bed. I had an appointment. I did not want to be late.

This appointment had taken quite a deal of time to arrange. That was not His fault. He had invited me long ago. I just hadn’t felt ready. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be entirely ready. I didn’t have all of the information. I worked hard to get here. I understand something new that I didn’t know back then. He is the only one who I can place my trust in now. I will let Him.

I arrived at the pre-designated spot. It was a beautiful spring morning. The grass was new and wet from the early morning dew. The sun shone brightly, and even thought there was a chill left over from the night, the air warmed all about me.

I saw Him in a distance.

I stopped, but I did not turn back.

I gathered all of my courage. I grasped my box tight to my chest and started towards Him.

He greeted me encircling me in His arms. It is the most love I had ever felt. He offered solace to my aching heart.

“Thank you Reta. I know what this means to you, and has meant to you. Are you sure you are ready?”

“Lord, I would be lying if I said I will ever completely be ready. This really hurts. I know this is my only pathway to peace. I trust YOU.”

With that he motioned down to my box.

“Can I see it?”

I placed the box down on the ground. I lifted the lid off of the box, struggling with the shame of what He would see. Why am I so ashamed? He understands better than me what being here symbolizes for me.

He was tender and with great caress and infinite love lifted it out of the box.

It was withered. Wilted, dead. He could see on the leafless stems the years that it had been sick. It was broken and in pieces. I stood there in so much pain watching my Lord holding it in His pierced and loving hands. I could not watch. The tears welled up. I could no longer see Him through the tears. I hurt.

“Lord,” I began. “I did everything I could think of to keep it alive and growing. Nothing I could do, not my best efforts could keep this marriage that I loved from dying. It meant everything to me. I loved, and cherished and fought for it. In the end all that I could do was still not enough to save it.”

“Reta, you did everything you could. I am pleased with your faithful efforts. They were sufficient.”

Gently, He handed it to me. We both knew there was nothing left to be done. The marriage had been terminal for some time. There was no recovery. I cried as I carried it to the tomb, the Lord at my side as He gently guided me inside those dark walls. The morning sun was the only light penetrating that lonely place. I ached with pain.  I placed it on the chilled gray stone. This is agony. In just seconds I would walk away, knowing that I was ultimately giving it over to Him. With a grief and suffering that shook my entire frame I began to sob.

There was nothing left to be done.

There was nothing left but surrender.

I had exhausted all of my resources.

There was only one option left. I would in every way give it over to His care.

As we turned to leave, I crumbled to the floor. My marriage… The most important thing I had ever done, the most precious journey I had ever embarked on… I was actually leaving it and walking away. I gathered my courage and my strength. I had found incredible safety at the Lord’s side. He was asking me to trust Him. He had shown me that He was safe. I knew it.

 “I will trust you Lord, but I don’t know if I can walk right now.”

He picked me up and carried me out wrapped up in His loving arms.

He affectionately put me down and with the ease rightful as the Creator of the universe walked back to the door and rolled the stone securely into its place. It was over. I looked at the stone.

It symbolized the zenith of my grief, the ultimate trust in Him, and my willingness to sacrifice.

As with all things the story is not over.  We turned over a new leaf together.

With the Easter Season comes a time where life is breathed back into the winter world. New things bloom, flowers grow. Old things depart and life is restored.

I had placed my marriage upon the alter. I had given everything to the Lord. All my control, all my pride. All my selfishness. All my longings. All my loss. All my fear. All my anger. All my joy. All my tears. I had given everything I had to Him.

I completely and entirely placed all my trust, all my faith, in the Lord knowing with complete surrender that I would finally find peace.

Time for an Easter Miracle.

The One who is ready and willing and ever capable to save in his great and ultimate compassion breathed life back into my marriage. 

My marriage once again lives. My marriage with God. I am a new person. I am better for my loss and my grief. I am more careful with how I speak. I am more conscious of my flaws and the affect I have on others.  I am willing to learn how to love unconditionally. I am near God and I feel safe. I feel my joy returning.  I know who I am. I love myself now.

I have a new confidence in myself because I know how to find the Lord. I have given all that I have and He immediately blessed me by being right by my side.

This new marriage won’t be perfect. I am flawed and messy, but the foundation is sure. He is the architect.

He will be safe for me. Together or Not at all. He asks "Will you walk with me?"
"I want to Lord," and reach for His hand.

Christmas Cactus

I grew up as a tom boy. I LOVED everything dirty and adventurous. I would play for hours in the sandbox making tunnels and roads and flooding the cities I had created. I played with Legos and transformers. I built tree houses, climbed fences, and trees. I could outrun every boy in my school, and I thought it an honor to be unique and different from the other girls I knew.

Fast forward 20 years. When my third son was born, looking around my environment I did not see anything feminine, I did not own any make up. I did not do my hair. I wore ponytails and thought little about shopping or makeovers. Upon realizing that I was feeling quite lonely as a woman...I started toying with the idea of pink. I went shopping looking for anything pink. I found a pink shirt that I absolutely loved and put it on. My husband almost feinted. "You've never worn that color before, it looks so strange on you."

I agreed as it looked foreign to me as well. And it did not look bad.

I started wearing my new pink shirt every week and I became more accustom to the feelings of tying my connection to how I felt as a woman, with the clothes I would choose for my body. Slowly many more pink items showed up in my wardrobe.

With the announcement of my fourth baby boy (Yes, I have four sons) I became quite enmeshed in the color pink. I needed some femininity around me. Pink was the best way to accomplish this.

It was about this time I received a Christmas Cactus from a neighbor. I had seen them before, but I had never owned one. I started to water it and tried to keep it alive. As it started to grow amazing things happened. It's new growth was pink. I could completely wrap my head around a strange little cactus that had pink ends. What a happy little plant I had discovered.
Imagine my joy one day when I discovered a happy pink flower at the end of one of it's leaves one October morning. Not only were the ends pink, but it produced pink flowers. If you thought I liked these plants already, my love and appreciation shot up  by a mere 100%.

I kept it alive for 2 years.

The night I moved to Idaho, it was left out in the cold and it froze. Not willing to accept the death of my plant, I moved it next to the vent, gave it water, and placed it in my south facing window. Maybe it could survive. There was always hope.

Nope.

I was completely devastated. I had loved that strange little green and pink plant.

I went out searching for another one within the week. This new one had 9 beautiful pink blooms. I knew it was the one for me.

Upon bringing it home the petals were bumped and I lost the first 6 flowers. I was so sad. But there were three left. Within the day my beautiful cactus lost the remaining flowers.

I felt pretty devastated. But there it is still alive. I can water it, love it, tell it how beautiful it is, send it loving energy! Soon before I know it, it will have tiny pink buds popping out.

Two months later I was watering my plant, sending positive energy and love to my cactus, when I felt a pang of disappointment. I so very much would like to see a blossom. I checked all the new growth. I was sad. They all turned out to be leaves. I checked in anticipation each week to see the progress of my beautiful little green and pink plant. Each week I would feel more disappointment. You know how much I like those little pink petals after all.

One day feeling a little impatient, and once again disappointed that I found no buds, I put the plant down as to not disrupt it with my negative thoughts. I felt the thoughts go through my head as if my plant was actually speaking, "Be patient with me. I am a plant. I grow at my own pace. Be patient. I am a plant."

The clarity of the thought that came to me surprised me a little because it was one of those instances where my soul was touched.

I had gotten so excited about the potential and possibilities of having the pink blossoms, I had forgotten to enjoy the moment, and not rush my beautiful little plant.


Let's jump ahead three weeks. I was in the kitchen, thinking about the lack of progress or headway I was making in recovery. I was feeling impatient with something I had done, when I had the keys and tools, but had not chosen to engage and make my actions consistent with my knowledge. I knew that I needed to surrender the situation to the Lord, and yet I was clinging on to my control.

This is when the Spirit had a chance to speak from the Lord to my heart. A picture of the plant flashed through my mind. I head again the words, "be patient with me." But this time there was something new. "I was not talking about the plant that day. I was talking about you." New words replaced the thoughts I had felt three weeks previous:

 "Be patient with yourself. You are my daughter. You are growing at your own pace. Be patient. You are my daughter."

Again I identified, I am so excited for the end when I have found healing and recovery...it is a beautiful thought to me. I crave it and I long to be whole.

I walk past my plant sometimes. I water it every week like normal. I love looking at the pink growth, and sending it my love, but now when I look at its leaves, it is not to check for progress, but it is to congratulate it for its growth. I have relaxed. I have recognized in this plant a little piece of myself. I see my own recovery. I have taken the thoughtful tenderness of being patient and gentle with my Christmas Cactus and applied this same tenderness with myself and my own pace. I know I can slow it down, be patient, and just sit back and enjoy the beauty that comes with complete surrender to the Lord. Tomorrow will come soon enough. I can enjoy the beauty of everything I am today.

Toxic Shame

My dear friend wrote a moving piece about toxic shame. I felt like her thoughts could have come straight from my head as they mirror feelings I've identified with. All of the painful feelings of powerlessness and worthlessness have attacked my soul. I battle with my story, and believing I am  enough. I will also be constructing a reply to toxic shame.  It will be coming in a couple of weeks.

I need to keep myself centered, in the moment, and reality to stay humble and maintain the Spirit. I also have to accept my story, all of it, while loving myself, having self-compassion and self-empathy.  These things are going to be critical to correcting the shame and healing my heart. To shed the shame and heal my heart, I am going to need to use the voice God gave me and share my story.

             I allow toxic shame to dictate to me every time I allow myself to step out of authenticity. Every time I “sell-out” by seeking to please, appease, or control I give up a piece of myself to be used, even by myself. Whenever I allow what I think is expected of me to override what I know or feel is right for me, I am in toxic shame. I internalize it when I feel ineffective, unimportant or unnoticed; when I allow myself to believe I am a hopeless and worthless, ignored, and invaluable.

             It eats away at my soul and poisons my hopes and faith. Then it lies and says I will never be “enough” and I will never get out. It cripples me with fear and hopelessness, setting me up to fail with emotional disconnect and unrealistic expectations of perfection. It says “I/they/you will love you when _____” and never fails to move the finish line just as I reach it.

             I feel it constantly some days. It is relentlessly destructive and pervasive. It tells me I am a disgusting, ugly idiot and always will be, that I am a piece of trash and a complete screw-up. It also tells me I am better than everyone else because I have been so picked on and survived. They will never understand and love me. Just take care of myself and never trust anyone.

             I see it and hear it everywhere, coming at me like rain. Sometimes it sprinkles, sometimes it pours. It comes in waves that drench me, or as bullets to my heart.

It hurts

I want it gone

I want it to stop

It just wants me dead.

So now what? How do I stop playing into it and get out? It’s hard, I can’t lie. I'm not out, and I'm not sure that is even fully possible living this life. This junk is seriously so interwoven in our thoughts, feelings, society and culture, it’s like trying to learn to breathe underwater. Nevertheless, I have learned a few things. I need to keep myself centered, in the moment, and reality to stay humble and maintain the Spirit. I also have to accept my story, all of it, while loving myself, having self-compassion and self-empathy.  I have to limit interactions with people who would destroy my faith, hope, dreams and self worth. Sometimes I have to completely cut off those relationships to save myself. These things are going to be critical to correcting the shame and healing my heart. I am also going to need to use the voice God gave me and share my story.

To do that, though, first I have to be honest about and embrace my story, release the anger, resentment and distortion and find the Truth. It’s hard. I’m blessed to have some great guides, the most important being my Savior and the Spirit. 

I am so thankful for them. It makes everything more bearable to know they are my constant companions and that I have angels on both sides of the veil who care about me and want me to succeed. It’s hard to trust that sometimes. I do NOT like trusting people, and I feel even more grumpy about real vulnerability. Until I get through it, then I am so thankful. As much as I hate to admit it (and know I will deny it!), I am thankful for both trust and vulnerability. I don’t have to expose anything to anyone who is unsafe and unproven. Living in the shadows and corners just isn’t working for me anymore. I miss people and I miss feeling, so I’m coming back, a little at a time. Healing the deeply rooted shame messages I have heard all my life has been such a gift and blessing. Hard work and seriously excruciating at times, but such a blessing.  So here I am, using my voice to tell you, this is so worth it! And that God loves us. He is aware and He is watching carefully so that His precious silver will not burn, but instead perfectly reflect His own image of Patience, Love, Compassion and Hope. His Grace IS sufficient, as long as our hearts are willing.

The day my soul shattered

I saw my heart. It was falling. There was nothing I could do to stop it. It felt like an eternity. The earth stop moving. Time was frozen in place. I was grasping trying to catch it, trying to hold onto it. It was so fragile. I was powerless.  I braced for the impact. In slow motion I watched as it hit the hard tile stone.

I knew what this impact was going to do. I watched my happiness flash before my eyes. All the laughter, all the joy, all the moments that had defined my carefree loving spirit, they were all in jeopardy. Every hug, every kiss, every embrace, every night filled with laughter; all the joy I had known was in peril...

The impact resulted in thousands of shattered pieces. I looked at the destruction in horror! Forget how I was going to fix this! How could the Lord repair this? There was no fixing it. There was nothing left to piece back together.  It was beyond repair. Only a miracle could reconstruct my dead and shattered heart. I lied there weeping, broken, dead.

I tried wrapping my head around my new reality. 

 My heart was gone. 

Why was I still breathing?

"God how is it I'm still standing here?

My heart is shattered?

I'm looking at it. There it is, in a thousand pieces across the floor!"

I WAS breathing. It was such a confusing feeling. I knew I was supposed to be looking down at my dead body, and yet my physical heart continued to beat. My soul was dead, and yet still encased in both my physical body and in this world. I was supposed to stay. I was no longer here. Part of me lost and completely absolutely broken.

I went numb. I could not move. I could barely breathe. 

It all made sense. All the struggles, all the pain, all my longings for my marriage. I had my answers, I knew why I had felt so unhappy. I understood all the warnings, and the promptings that something was wrong, and had been very wrong for years. Even with these warnings and my struggles they were not enough to take away the devastation of the state of my heart.

-Disclosure-

My joy died that day.

Just as the Provo tabernacle burnt down to the ground and how the saints all mourned and grieved the devastation, and wondered how anything good could come out of the ashes, I looked at my heart and wondered if I would ever feel joy again.

I look at my feelings and I see how much pain and agony I was in that day. It seems so long ago. I remember the day. I remember where I was, what room I was in, the weather outside. I remember the time of day. I remember the minute. Traumas like this don't leave the mind very easily. They are not healed quickly.

Cody and I went to counseling. Nothing worked. He'd get into sobriety. He would go just long enough in between relapses that I would start trusting again, only to repeat the process. My heart never did crash again like the first time. But every relapse and confession felt a little more raw. There was no heart to heal, yet I still felt each sting. Why was that? As my heart was gone, I never did engage my heart in trusting him with it again.

After a little over two years time we enrolled in a recovery program and found ourselves sitting in a meeting with other couples devastated by sex/lust addiction.

I was shown the trauma women go through when their loved ones are engaged in sexual addiction. I learned that it was okay for me to hurt. It was okay for me to feel my pain. I had been through a 

Real. Significant. Trauma.

And now I heard for the first time that it was okay to feel angry. And Oh was I angry. I had never felt anger in this manner. I emulated a mist of darkness five feet in every direction and I was the pit of rage in the middle.

I walked around the city in this absolute black, angered, enraged place. I was captive. I could not break out. I started attending 12 steps. I was prompted that it was time to forgive.

I did not feel ready. I had been betrayed too many times. I struggled to accept this forgiveness. But, my soul longed for peace. As was contrary to my nature my whole being begged me to not remain angry and to come back into truth with myself. I needed to honor the congruency of the soul I am. Slowly I turned my heart to the Lord. He was able to soften the pain, and the rage. I was able to see my husband through His loving eyes. 

He showed me a window into heaven and I saw all of my husband's immeasurable worth and the unconditional love the Lord has for him. This helped and my feelings of intense hurt and anger evolved to the feelings of pain and acceptance. I was still pained but no longer raging or seething. 

Before my heart shattered, my interactions with others were jovial, fun, carefree, and playful. Now I was stoic, calm, and guarded. I mourned the loss of my joy and my happiness.

Slowly, I met other women who were going through the pain of living with an addict and the things they did to justify their addictions. It all looked different for each of us, but we all knew the crazy-making that addiction created in our marriages.

Being in recovery for woman struggling through betrayal trauma did wonders to my eyes. I was able to see my part. I saw where I had come into the marriage already defeated. I was trying to validate my worth through a loving marriage. I saw marriage as a crowning achievement. Something to be sought after with all my might.

However eternity with a man who blamed me as the source of all his resentment, and constantly being shown all my weaknesses to keep him justified in not engaging in recovery was now no longer a possibility, regardless of my eternal marriage to him. That anger and resentment coming in from him had a detrimental impact on the eternal seal of our marriage, and I knew it.

I went the next year struggling with his resentment and blame so that he did not have to face himself at the end of the day. My recovery kept being shaken, bumped, bruised, and retraumatized.

I was using my tools, and through therapy I was getting stronger. I was growing and taking some large steps towards peace within my heart. As a result I was reaching new levels of health. But my marriage was not. I was progressing. Cody kept his heels dug tightly in the ground.

I went to the Lord to ask him what was to be done. I was told to leave.

It was an incredibly peaceful time. I was held very lovingly and protectively in the Lord's loving almighty hand.

I moved to another state.

And I began to heal. I still had the raw and tender memory of my heart shattering two years earlier, but things weren't as raw and painful.

I saw where my heart had been before it shattered. I started to question what it was that had been destroyed. Wasn't my heart sick and broken for all the years previous. Why was I holding on so hard to the shards of a sick and ravaged heart?

My Savior bent down as I hovered over my shattered heart and my pain. He held me as I crouched guarded on the ground next to the pieces. He did not ask me to move until I was ready. He was just caring and right next to me at my side. Once I was ready I took a great big breath. I turned away from the shards and looked into His eyes, His face, and nodded I was ready to move on.

He helped me to stand, and he pointed me in a new direction. I was shown all that I stood to gain from this new direction. 

I am traveling through a new destination. It has been lined with trials, sharp rocks, and treacherous cliffs, but as I have remembered that  I am in His Hands and His tender care, all of the sudden the trials are lifted. The razor sharp points of the rocks are dulled. The treacherous cliffs become gentle sloping valleys. Surely I have had him ease the load I carry so that I can not feel its weight upon my shoulders.

I have been separated for two months, and with only myself and the Lord to account to I have found healing. And in this healing something amazing started to happen. I started to feel joy returning into my soul. 

It was new. It was different. At first I denied the happiness creeping into my life. I saw the brief moments. I saw my good moods. I saw the joy I found in speaking to my beloved friends also in recovery. I stood back unprepared to call it joy and called my emotion a happy moment. I was okay if I had a moment of happiness. It was okay to feel contentment. I continued to be guarded.

And yet this joy kept creeping in. With each new benchmark I found in my own recovery, my heart healed just a little more. A blessing here another one there.

And just as night falls and is dark and you can not see your way...the sun begins to rise, casting out the darkness, and the worry, the fear, and the pain.

It is a new day. It is different than the last, but it is okay. The sun is a little more glorious from having gone through the dark of the night. It lead to experience.

My joy is new, fine-tuned, loving,  understanding and whole. My heart is better off because it is born of a different substance. My heart no longer feels broken. My heart feels genuine. It is strong and vibrant. Knowing how to avoid these treacherous cliffs, I am able to create safety that I was unable to create before it's fall. I can see the direct Hand of the Lord. He helped contstruct this new heart with me. 

I am now experiencing joy in my every day life. I am looking forward to the small moments when they come. I am serene and contemplative of this joy. I hold it differently. I know the darkness of the night. I treasure the moments of light. I give thanks for them.

My joy is emerging as wondrous as the bitterness was to my pain. And in the opposite I have learned what a prize happiness and joy are. They are a gift from a loving Lord. 

I still feel like I am under construction. But I can see the end product. Life everlasting with my God, and that is exciting. I have new eyes. Everything shines that much brighter and vibrant. I can see clearly. My joy has a new home in my heart. This new, reborn heart, has been healed. I see the pierced hands holding my heart, and I know my heart could not be in a more secure place.

I have experienced a miracle. The Lord is very good with broken hearts. My shattered, devastated, dead heart was no match for His everlasting and eternal atonement. Nor was it too much for His love or His power to heal. 

Lust addiction and women

"Basically, I have a crush on a man who isn't my husband."

The words rang loud and clear in my mind. These words shook me awake. It shattered the illusion I had been living in. I broke out of my denial. There I sat  looking reality in the face.

I am attending a trauma recovery group with a special group of women who have endured the destructive force of lust addiction. I sit with women whose lives have been shaken through the addictions of their loved ones.  I had been attending weekly meetings to heal the betrayal trauma that I was going through as a wife of a man with sex addiction.

I had been in my own recovery for over a year when I heard the above words. But they are not the only words I heard. I listened to my friend own up and hold herself accountable around a man who was not her husband. She recounted how well she had done managing herself when she found herself in close proximity to him...and then for a brief moment, she slipped. She was coming clean.

What I heard next was pure light and knowledge from My Lord and Savior.

Our counselor replied,
"That is not a minor slip. This is serious. You know how dangerous it is. You have to stay present. It very much is a betrayal to your marriage covenant."

I don't know if those were the exact words our counselor spoke, but they were no longer being spoken to this woman. These words, though directed to her, were exactly the words that the Lord needed me to hear that day.

I had been drowning around the feelings I had for a neighbor I had recently met. When I met him for the first time I felt like I had been punched in the stomach, as well as been hit with a bolt of lightning. He was charismatic, friendly, charming, the most handsome man I had ever seen, and most importantly...  none of that mattered. He was not my husband.

As I was going through the pain of trying to connect to my husband, and going through the trauma that reaching  and trying to connect to an addict and the pain it was continually being shot down, I felt lonely and vulnerable.

The more the months went by the more I would look forward to seeing this man at church. I would enjoy watching him with his children, and watching them dote on him. The more pain I would feel at home, the more I would slip into fantasy with this man. One day I realized I could not get his face out of my head.

After one very triggering, emotional, painful Sunday afternoon at church, I had come home, gone into the bedroom to sleep it off, and this man's face came into my mind. I felt better. I fell asleep thinking about his smile.

Next Sunday, the same thing. I watched other members of my congregation whose lives were all put together nice and neat, and listened to them dodge the hard questions about morality and sexual purity which enraged me. How in the world are women supposed to manage their lives if the topic of sex addiction is too taboo to speak of honestly in church?

Again, I went back to my room, and proceeded to shut it all out, and numb through a nice afternoon nap. Again his face entered into my mind more specifically his eyes. But this time it was not as pleasant, and did not have the same numbing effect like last time.

It was on week three that this happened, that I started to panic. What was this? What is going on? Please Lord! Take this from me! I do not want this man's face in my mind, and it's all that I can see when I feel rejected, shamed, or alone. I can not stop this on my own!

The very next week, I sat in my woman's recovery meeting and heard the words, "I have a crush on a man who is not my husband."
That was the week that I learned about sex addiction and how it manifests itself in women. That is the week the Lord had been preparing me for, for months. And I was ready to hear.
I had spent over a year in recovery, and never knew that women could go through lust addiction, just like their husbands.

You see where my husband had been acting out in a physical way. THAT was how I had always known lust addiction. It was my only understanding. And it is how addiction manifests itself in men.


I did not understand what lust addiction was like for a woman.  I held a temple recommend, had never so much as looked at a magazine, websites, gotten into chat rooms, read romance novels,  or self-stimulated.
THAT is what I thought lust addiction was for women. The things that can get their temple recommends taken away. I was not at all in favor of that. You see I had made covenants with the Lord. I could rationalize and justify everything like the pro my husband had become in his own addiction.


And satan KNEW he could not take me out coming in through the front door.

His attack was much more subtle and deceptive. He would not wage an all out assault. He would come in at me over time, with multiple exposures. Certainly thinking a man is attractive is no problem. Certainly watching a movie because the actor is handsome is no threat. There is no harm in looking at a man's face. That is all I am attracted to anyway.

Do you hear them? The soft, subtle, snares carefully crafted and placed by the adversary?

I did not hear them either, until I was ensnared. Until it was too late, and I was in all out lustful behavior.

My experience not being able to get this man's face out of my head no matter how much effort and prayer I put in to it, if heard by anyone knowledgable about addiction, would clearly tell me, the ritualization, preoccupation, and acting out behavior was lust addiction.

What? I have been true and faithful to my eternal companion. I have NOT betrayed him like he betrayed me.

That is not the truth however, and the Lord had an important lesson to teach me.

I went straight to my bishop. There was nothing that needed to be taken care of through the priesthood, so he encouraged me to go to the temple.


That week I went to the temple to get clear about what I had heard, and to see what I could do to overcome my feelings around this man. I went with my husband. It was a busy day, the session was full. We would need to wait an hour until the next session.

I was able to sit in the chapel for over an hour. The peacefulness and spirit of the Lord were very tangible. It was my first time watching the new endowment video. I had strong emotions and promptings watching it for the first time. I had an incredible sense of peace. The Lord kept reminding me about the covenants I had made. It was impressed over and over as I listened to the words of the covenants that if I had been really living my  covenants  and had taken them seriously, if I had been attentive, I would have never become so ensnared by satan. I kept feeling the impression remember these covenants. They will keep you safe.

The session was almost over. I was only seconds before I was to pass through the veil when the thought went through my head..."You are not worthy to enter into the Lord's presence. You are unclean and have not done all that is required for repentance."

I started to panic. What would I do? As these thoughts went through my head I was being asked to come up and wait at the veil. I looked left in desperation. There was the door. I knew I needed to just excuse myself and walk through that door. How could I walk through the door? I had come all this way? I panicked, I was too embarrassed. All these people would see me bail.
In my shame I caved. I did not leave.
Feeling defeated I stood there bargaining with the Lord. Please Lord! I was not ready. I did not know. I would have never entered into your house if I had known my worthiness was in question. I will do what I need to do so that when being brought into your presence, I will not wish to shrink, or to cease to exist. I felt that awful crisis of the wicked being brought to make an account of their lives before their maker, and I KNEW I was not worthy of the kingdom of God, and what's more. He knew it.

Before I knew it I went through the motions and I was through the veil. As I stood in the Celestial Room I just wept. The Lord did not abandon me however. Even though I was being taught a very valuable and symbolic lesson he never did leave my side. He let me know it was time to cleanse my vessel. It was time to take my addiction seriously and not to come back until I had clean hands and a pure heart.

You see the Lord cares very much about our covenant marriages. He also knows HOW a woman can become addicted. Lust is no respecter of gender. It just manifests itself differently in women. The Lord understands this. He anticipated it. Here are His words about it.

But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a (man) to lust after (him) hath committed adultery with (him) already in (her) heart. -Matthew 5:28

This is certainly what had happened with me...and I didn't even know it. I wasn't even aware. I had been completely deceived.

I have often heard the adage, Women give sex to get love, and men give love to get sex.
There is great truth about the genders in old cliche. What is more men and women manifest lust addiction in very different ways. A righteous woman would not willingly cheat or enter into an extramarital affair with a man. Before that happens an emotional connection has to be made. And Satan knows it.

He takes the beautiful connection that happens when a man and woman connect emotionally, the deep spiritual connection that a man and woman can feel with each other and the Lord, and he destroys it and perverts. He does this with women in the same manner as he does with men as he takes the physical intimate relationship that ultimately connects the marriage to the Lord and he subverts it, twists it, and destroys it. When in his hands, this natural, beautiful, intimate connection, saved and ordained under the marriage covenant becomes a tool for the destruction of marriage and soul.

Women can get just as great of a hit of dopamine, seratonin, oxytocin, estrogen, as a man can while he is looking at pornography. When she is engaging in emotional intimate thoughts, fantasies, or preoccupation with a man outside of her marriage it is just as ensnaring as any other addiction.  The chemicals and endorphins released in her body when she goes to connect with someone inside her mind, when she goes to that fantasy of leaving her marriage relationship, are the exact same chemicals released in the brain of a drug addict or alcoholic.

The potency is just greater with her because the chemicals are produced by the body and not synthetically re-produced.  In the case with illegal drugs or alcohol that is an example of a synthetic drug. The body is better equipped to break down its own natural chemicals. Thus making lust/sex addiction harder to overcome than other addiction because the body is really good at breaking down its own naturally produced hormones.

Now, just because I was aware of my addiction, and I had this experience at the temple, it did not make me perfect the next day.

If this was the case all addicts everywhere would just be able to Stop It.  Stop ritualizing, stop fantasizing, stop obsessing. No, I had all the same seeds of shame that are requisite to feed addiction.

I got accountable and responsible, got a sponsor, went to 12-steps, reported to my woman's group. I worked closely with my bishop. I prayed, fasted, and worked hard to regain admittance to the temple.

Instead of seeking his attention at church, which I always got because he simply talked to everyone, I would avoid the classes he would be in. I would sit on the very front row so I would not have to avoid looking at him. If we were forced to speak, I would not look at his eyes.
Those were not my only boundaries or bottom lines.
I had to place boundaries around my behavior, so that I could not even go into the North end of the house to look out the window across to my neighbor's house.

 I still slipped. Many days I cried in frustration. Many times I got on the phone.  Many instances I went to my knees.  I would call a sponsor. Some days I would go into full blown relapse or binge behavior.

Instead of panicking I learned that with every slip, relapse, or binge I learned more about myself. It gave me information so that I could become aware of my own shame, get honest about it, and place better bottom lines on my own behavior. I could avoid getting so stressed and numbing my pain.

I did not like my marriage, but it did not give me permission to leave it. My reality is mine is broken, and it is not okay to look to another man to numb my pain.

And now I share my story. I share it because it is not something discussed in young women's. It is not spoken from the pulpit. It is not recognized for the evil it is. Because it requires secrecy to feel the shame and perpetuate the lies of Lucifer, it needs never be given a name.

But it has a name. It is lust addiction. And I am recovering from it. It is real and it is destructive. It would have kept me from the presence of the Lord, and that is very serious. Anything that would prevent a woman from being able to look her God in the eyes is definitely worth telling my story for. If it has helped even one woman, then I feel gratitude for my experience.