Lindsay went away to a Life Coach conference. It cost “a lot” of money. She would be gone for several days. We had just barely finished moving and a very busy week of accounting deadlines for her. I was tired and was bugged that I’d be taking care of the kids alone for a few more days. Just because I’d progressed leaps and bounds didn’t mean my anxiety didn’t still pop up.
Is this worth it?I thought. I want to support her. She is so excited. But does it have to be right now? Turns out I survived (unlike my brain told me would happen).
Lindsay came back walking on air. She was lighter, smiling more, energized, motivated, more confident. Not that she wasn’t already amazing. But something was different about her, in a big way. I...
As part of my mental illness, I had some suppressed memories arise from my childhood. I was sexually abused.
I would wake up to nightmares, sweating and panicking, unable to go back to sleep. My sleep quality and quantity became worse than ever. My anxiety would get triggered by the smallest things and then go from 0-60 instantly. I couldn’t even make decisions on my own when it was really bad. Lindsay would have to decide for me like, which sandwich to order from the restaurant, even simple things like that would overwhelm me.
I was incredibly jumpy and easily startled. My heart would race. I was experiencing PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). For whatever reason, my body was finally ready to process trauma from the abuse. And it was not something...
Lindsay started working. That it had come to this was completely unacceptable in my mind. I should be the one providing. That was the plan. That’s what The Family: A Proclamation to the World says (at least that’s how I interpreted it). That’s what I promised her. I’m a failure, I thought.
I struggled with this. And even though I started including Lindsay in my struggle, and was receiving all this help, I still resorted to porn at times. Less frequently, but I still struggled to find success with this.
One therapist early on told me I wasn’t an addict. I was so relieved. But wasn’t getting the help I needed. Later on, a different therapist told me I was an addict. I tried this hat on for a while.
My shaky hands got worse, not better. I could not work. Would I ever be able to practice dentistry again? All that school/training/money. Even if my hands did stop shaking, my anxiety was so out of control that I could barely leave the house. I could barely interact with Lindsay and the kids, let alone another person.
I had struggled with occasional suicidal thoughts for years at this point. But now they were really regular. I never got serious about planning or attempting. But would have the idea pop in my mind. Then I’d beat myself up for even thinking it.
I would go into deep depressions, feeling helpless and out of control and like there was no way this could ever get better. If I felt good, I would sabotage myself thinking it would slip away at any minute....
Some people think porn is freedom.
Some resort to porn when the rest of their life feels like it’s trapping them.
As though porn gets you out of the cage.
And if you don’t do it, you are surely missing out on something.
But what about that voice inside of you?
You know the one.
It’s your intuition (call it what you want)
That voice that says:
“I think I am missing out on something much bigger than I can even imagine right now.
There is something more, something greater, here.
Something that is more authentic to the real me.
Something that honors my truth.
Something that unleashes my genuine side, allowing me to pursue my highest self.
Something that truly would set me free.”
If your intuition is telling you this, are you willing to believe it right now, in this moment?
What is it costing you to not believe it?
How much longer am I willing to experience this pain and uncertainty...