The In Between

When trying to beat my addiction to masturbation, I had to find the root cause of why I was masturbating and dig it all out from the root up. And I did-- I did not feel like I was lovable. So I feigned intimacy through the fantasy of masturbation, simultaneously cutting myself off from that which I really wanted-- to be loved and know I was lovable and intimacy. Thankfully, I was able to dig up that root and gain healing from the wound it left. But sometimes I still feel the way I did when I was addicted.

There is a lot of stuff between the root of something and what it is protruding as (feeling unlovable to masturbation, for instance) and sometimes that stuff can be overlooked. I overlooked it definitely. All I saw was: Root. Root! Root! Dig it up now!!!! Gone! NO MORE MASTURBATION! YAY!!! VICTORY!  But really, the wound leaves scar tissue related to the injury. Hence, I still deal with some of that "middle stuff" that was always lodged in between the root of my problem and the addiction itself.

Sometimes I still feel like I'm on the outside looking in, that I can never have something that I want, and this is in all areas of my life, not just relationships (friendship and romance and familial all alike). A dissatisfaction with the here and now because I worry I will not have the other things I want and, even more so, cannot have the things that I want. That has led to a rebellious heart and a lot of issues with God. I just want some proof that the things I desire are good things and that I am not just deserving but loved enough to be given good things.

So, I have to deal with the scar tissue of the in between. It's a work in progress. Some days I feel really good and other days are so so. But progress isn't linear, it's convoluted. There are steps to go through, in some fashion and sometimes more than once, and a lot of the issues probably have multiple layers. That's ok. I have multiple layers. I'm not one-dimensional. And in the hard times, I cling to the only things I know to be absolutely true: that God is good and He loves me.

No Limits

When I was addicted to masturbation and when I first began to realize that I was so, I used to go around bluntly telling people, in semi-appropriate settings, that is. I had no problem telling a relative stranger, when a friend asked me to, and I had no problem discussing it. I did not want to be The Masturbator, but that's who I was, at least self-defined, and so I thought there was no more reason to keep it in the dark.

When I found healing from the addiction, I started going around talking about my freedom from the addiction and how I was no longer The Masturbator. Instead, I became No Longer The Masturbator. And that defined a hole I then needed to have filled: if I was no longer The Masturbator, who was I?

We are not defined by our sins. That was the remedy to my addiction. But neither are we defined solely by our moments of healing or conversion. These are part of who we are, but not who we are in whole. These moments propel us on to be who we are and to define ourselves by what we no longer are in light of healing or conversion is limiting. I am not The Masturbator and I am not No Longer The Masturbator.

I am Theresa who once was addicted and is now set free. I am Theresa who entrusts her entire being to the Precious Blood. I am so much more. I am most assuredly without limits. It is good to recognize our limits-- it reminds us we are human and in need of Someone more than ourselves, it is humbling-- and it is only through recognizing our limits that we might rise beyond them.

Yes, I am Theresa who entrusts her entire being to the Precious Blood-- blood that pours out without limits.

Fruit of the Vine, Work of My Hands

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!