Getting Back on Track

I took a week off from my blog, my life, my therapy and pretty much everything else to attend our stake girls camp.  I was the head cook (I think I must have lost my head to accept this assignment).  I had a blast with the girls, but not so much fun with the other two ladies that signed up for this laborious task of feeding 200 girls 3 meals a day.

When I say I took a week off from everything -- it was literally  everything.  I missed my 12-Step meeting, my counseling session, my support groups and I missed everything that I typically need to do to keep myself on track.  I noticed the loss often as the week progressed.

 H took the week off too. He came up to camp to help in me in the kitchen.  As short as I am, I knew I was going to need help with those giant bowls and pans in that kitchen.  Wow!  Some of them were huge!.  And, surprisingly, not big enough for the amount of food I needed to shove into them to mix and stir and distribute to 200 hungry girls.

It was a challenging week for H.   Getting men (or what we, in the church, call 'priesthood') up to help for the week proved to be challenging for the women in charge of girls camp.  Why is it that men won't sacrifice for this service?  H found it incredibly difficult to be in all the places all those leaders wanted him to be.  I found it frustrating to have to keep letting him take off on someone else's errand, when he came to help me.  He isn't even technically 'priesthood' anyway right now.

Either way, H was frustrated.  He was frustrated with the amount of work.   He was frustrated with the less than desirable, mice infested living conditions, and he was frustrated that he took a week of vacation to do what he realized he would not have agreed to do -- had he known what it really entailed.

I find a lot of irony in H's realizations.  As he would complain about this or that last week, I kept thinking to myself that had I known what I was getting into marrying him, maybe I wouldn't have signed up to give my time away to that kind of assignment either.

But there we were -- slaving away at girls camp.
And here we are -- struggling through a marriage infected with addiction.

Maybe in your right, well-informed mind, you wouldn't sign up for any hard, challenging, soul-testing, gut wrenching, physically draining assignment -- if you really knew what you would have to do to get through them.  

The hours were horrible.  I would open the kitchen around 5:30 AM and not leave some days until closer to 10:00 at night.  It was hot and sweaty, before we turned on the ovens and grills.  The Missouri humidity was in full force the week we were at camp.   Huge dirty dishes that needed to be washed made us wet and grimy as well.

In between the heat, sweat, humidity, dirty dish water --  there were these delightful young women who came in to the kitchen to help.   Their smiles brightened me.  Their silly camp songs and beautiful voices made light work of the ga-jillion plates, cups, forks, knives and spoons coming through the window to the dishwasher.  Some of these beautiful girls came to help more often than they were supposed to -- because you some how, touched them.  You made a connection that drew them back to you.  They chose the mess and heavy work of the kitchen over another class or event they could have attended.

And that made all the difference at the end of the day.

Of course I left the kitchen exhausted, but I left happy.  I left thinking about the laughs we had with the girls that  had kitchen chores that day.   Those happy times made the work load and long hours ever so worth it -- to me, at least.

I know that has to be true for what I deal with at home too.

Living with addiction is one of the most painful trials I have ever gone through.  It has been even more difficult and painful than six miscarriages.  More difficult than the miscarriages that lead to pulling my lost babies out of the toilet.

No one in their right mind signs up for this test.  How it came to be dumped on me wasn't the same way the camp cook assignment happened, but I see so many parallels in the experiences.

* I recognize the steep learning curve.   It took a few meals at camp to comprehend the volume of food it takes to feed 200 people.  It took a few meals to learn to manage my time so that the food was ready when dinner was scheduled.  Likewise, it was years of pain and confusion before we ever began to dare say the word 'addiction'.   It took tons of counseling, books on recovery, 12-step, support groups and so much more to muddle my way through this until I felt like I wasn't drowning in despair.   It takes time to learn to manage a challenge.

* I recognize the need for a strong support system.  Without a strong support system in the kitchen last week we had chaos and delay.  We needed to work together, with an understanding of the end goal to find success.    Part of my floundering all those years was due to trying to cope on my own.  The support from women who understand my pain has been a tremendous healing balm to me.  I didn't have to work this alone anymore once I realized there were organizations filled with women who had been there - - and knew!

*I recognized the need for determination and "stick-to-itiveness".   A couple times last week when the work got too hard there was a break down with the help.  There was frustration, complaining, and bad feelings.  I've had that happen too,  with addiction in the marriage.  I've been over-loaded and too weary to go on.  (Please know, that if you are reading this and you have taken a path toward divorce, these comments are in no way meant as judgement or finger pointing for not sticking it out.  There have been times when I have felt it was time to end my marriage as well.  I do not judge that choice.  It belongs to those in their own trenches).  I've made the choice to remain married, therefore, I need to keep a firm grasp on my determination to get to the end goal.

Over the past couple of days home from camp,  while I've sorted through the dirty laundry piles, I've thought a lot about what I missed being away from my recovery resources.  I missed the connections I have come to trust and lean on.   What surprised me, looking back, was to see that I took with me more tools and resources and strength that I ever knew I had.

I've learned to work with others in different ways than I ever used to.  I've learned to be patient and loving with myself and to give myself room to learn as I do hard things.  I've learned that its ok to cry -- in front of people even, when things get too hard for a minute.  I've learned that I don't run away from a challenge no matter how difficult the people are that I have to work with.  I've learned that people may complain about me and how I do things, but others think I'm amazing.  I've learned to hold on to what lifts me, not what takes me down.

Most importantly, I've learned that how I look at difficult challenges -- makes all the difference in the world -- to me!

I can do hard things.

Last week,  I did something incredibly difficult.  It was a challenge I didn't have experience with.  I pulled it off with flying colors.  I didn't please every one, but I pleased the Lord -- and that is enough for me.

Today,  I am back home, to my regular challenge, ready to take what I learned, what I gained, and apply it to my recovery work.  Today, I am back on track, lifted from an experience I had no clue I'd have to go through and so grateful for what it taught me about me.

I can -- do hard things!