I have done a lot of damage to myself through the use of my hands. And somehow, through the mysterious grace of God, through those instruments of destruction, I will also find redemption. I always thought that meant through my writing. I have been a storyteller since I could talk and writer since before I could really write. I dreamed of growing up and joining the ranks of the great authors, in fact, I told my high school English teacher I wanted to be a combination of Mark Twain and Emily Dickinson.
While I find much good coming from writing, I find that much more is coming in other ways. Through making and packing my husband's lunch for him, cleaning our apartment, washing dishing, holding my husband's hand or giving him a massage after a long day-- things that some would consider extremely mundane and ordinary. But these are the things that have provided me with the most healing. Why? Because I am no longer serving myself, as masturbation led me to do, but I am serving others and most importantly the one who I am one with. Service and healing start at home and then overflow from there to flood the world.
While addiction and masturbation were horrible, it provided me with two necessary things: strength and trust to carry on through the dark times and a deeper understanding and gratefulness for mercy. Time to go clean the kitchen from our Italian Seven Fishes meal last night :) Merry Christmas!