Mine is not a new story...

Haunted by Good Feelings

I really hate myself sometimes. 

It's guilt, yes, that makes me feel that way, but there's something more that leaves me helpless and trapped: My smile.   After I have "repented" (momentarily) and realized my fault in the delusions with other women that I sought to carry out a a fling with, I still carry the shame of enjoying the memory of it. 

I like the fantasy, otherwise why would I create it?   But it's not the fantasy that I am talking about.  I liked the women that I fantasized about.  I liked the feeling that they gave me while they were around.  I liked how good it felt when they gave me their attention.  It was powerful.  It was memorable.  And the memory of it still feels good. 
I know I should feel rotten because of that...  and I do.

My husband and I were swapping stories around the dinner table when I recalled one relating to a friend of mine.  Greta was the newbie at youth group when I decided to sit down next to her to make her feel welcomed.  She was a 7th grader while I was a year ahead of her.  I'm not sure why it meant so much to her that I was older, but it did and soon after she invited me to her birthday party.  I hardly knew her, but I was not going to say no and make her feel inferior with me or with the youth group.  Her parents were well off and had rented a couple of rooms at a four star hotel for an all girl slumber party.  It was me, Greta, and about 8 other 7th graders - all of them overly giddy to have an 8th grader in their midst.  I thought to myself, they really don't know me very well.  But all the attention started to give me a big head after awhile.  Especially any attention that I received from Greta's cousin. 
Melissa caught my eye immediately.  Everything she did, her walk, her words, her voice, made me smile.  I worked really hard not to show just how crazy she made me feel while I was at the party.  The night consisted of meeting at Greta's house, going out to eat, swimming in the hotel pool, and watching a pay-per-view inside our room.  I remember that Melissa took a shower that night after the swim and then another again in the morning.  Twice I saw her wearing a towel two and from...I was in awe of her beauty.  She was a goddess to me.  I wanted to talk to her more, but I had no words to say.  It was easier to sit and just admire.  It's because of this memory that Greta and I were never that close as friends.  I was invited over a couple more times after the party, but all I could think of was her cousin.  I would even ask about her inconspicuously, to see how she was doing.  I explained to Drew that even now, I can't think of Greta or her parents without thinking about that party with Melissa there.  And I smile at the thought of it.  I know I should feel guilt and shame over it.  But I don't.  I still like the memory...I feel the same about it.  What I regret is that I let something so small distract me from having a quality friendship with Greta. 
She became collateral damage from my selfish attraction.

Many advocates for gays have stood up against the notion that anything should be able to "fix" them.  They say that they are not sick, that there is no disease making them this way.  I agree.  It's not a disease.  And no one can undo what has been done...   We all have to just keep moving forward.  But I stand before you now saying that I do wish to be "fixed"....  most days.  Some days I like being attracted to women.  I like being different.  "Normal" people seem boring and two-dimensional.  But when those days pass to the next, normal is everything that I hope for.  Sanity is what I pray for.

I am tormented by feelings that I know I should not indulge in and enjoy.  How do I tell myself to not enjoy what is enjoyable?

A few months ago, I called up a friend from church and asked her if she could meet me to talk.  I was feeling rotten and sharing these thoughts with other people has been my cry for help lately.  Unprepared with any words to say, I told her that I just wanted to spend time with a friend.  She was not satisfied with that response, and persisted to pry out what was bothering me.  Feeling guilty, for calling her out there as if I was wasting her time and invading her space, I tried to explain what was going on.  I hated myself.  I saw my beautiful kids and loving husband and I felt so undeserving of them.  I knew I had done things wrong.  My thoughts were deceitful and my actions had been (in the past) following that same path.  I wanted to beg someone to institutionalize me, just so my family might be spared from my insanity.  My friend must have misunderstood, because she began to bombard me with advice and  "what you need to do''s. 
She told me that I should find a church that has more elderly people so I would not feel tempted as often.  I shook my head at the notion that running away from it as if that would solve anything.   Her advice just reaffirmed my feelings of failure.    She tried to relate from a heterosexual level with my situation.  She reminded me of my obligation to my children and spouse.  My friend tried to assure me that everyone struggles with physical temptation to look at other people that are not your partner.  "You just have to go somewhere else and look away."  "Do it for your kids, just think of their sweet little faces and what that would do to them."  By the time she was done encouraging me, I wanted to crawl in a hole and die from remorse.

What my friend failed to realize (besides the obvious misunderstanding of my emotional state) was that I am attracted to a gender of people, not just one person.  I'm not trying to say that all women make me blush.  I do have a man, whom I love, and I have a family that I love.  But I just desire something more.  That something is an experience with a woman.  Although, not just any woman, I would still have to avoid an entire gender to be sure I was ridding myself of that temptation.  Avoiding a gender that is your own... now that's what I call an impossibility. 

I know, I'm a mess.  I'm a wreck waiting to happen, and any other cliche that fits. 

This is what it's like to be haunted by good feelings.

Created Unworthy

Manless I am nothing. 

What purpose could I serve to God as an unmarried woman?


I'm not sure how to tackle this subject.  Everyone has their own beliefs, even if contained within the same religion (in this case Christianity).  The trick is distinguishing between man's contributions and God's absolute truth.  I still don't think I can effectively cancel out my own experiences and the different ways my parents and teachers have influenced my thinking enough to see truth clearly. 


In the early years of my childhood, I was raised in a non-instrumental Church of Christ.   Many of those congregations were as opposed to instruments being brought past the church doors as they were to see a woman approach the podium to speak.  Women were allowed to teach Sunday School for the children under the Junior High ages only.  They could also study together in women's Bible study groups.  I noticed these obvious disadvantages that girls had within the church as a child, but I would never have dared to question the established rules that God himself had set in place.  My Dad had made it clear to me that women had only one place, behind a man.  Every Christian I knew seemed to simply confirm this belief.

God was my purpose.  I held on to my life for Him and not just because of Him.  I believed I was cursed, worthless, and a living burden to my family, especially my father.   I lived for God and Him only.  I had to hold onto a belief that He needed to "use" me for something.  I believed that He could make me usable.  As a girl, the possibilities seemed limited.

My Mom worked outside the home as a nurse.  Even though she worked, my Father depended on her to have a warm dinner and a clean house waiting for him everyday when he arrived home.  And somehow she made it happen.  My Mom never prayed when my Father was present.  She stayed in her place very naturally and appeared content to do no more.  I, on the other hand, felt like I was living up to my Daddy's harsh words, as I was screaming on the inside for something greater.  Women seemed like no more than drones.  I guess I should have felt honored to be God's drone, but if I had this love for Him with a desire to do so much more, how could I keep silent?  Why would He demand that from me? 

Why were women so much lower than men?

I was told it began in the garden when Eve was deceived.   Yet didn't Adam eat from the same tree as well forcing him to face death and punishment?   My Mom was not much help in answering these questions, but she did assure me that there were things we could do for God, even if not in a position of authority. 

The super-sized congregation that we had been attending had a split.  Apparently, someone snuck a guitar into their Sunday School class and it didn't go over well with the elders.  This sparked a controversy over Biblical elements like I had never seen before.  My parents decided to go with the "splinter church", the instrumental church.  They called themselves Disciples of Christ and many things were different there.  Beyond the worship style and songs dramatically changing from classic hymns to contemporary music heard on the radio (I even remember hearing "Tears in Heaven" by Eric Clapton on one occasion), there were wives serving communion with their husbands.  That was an amazing sight for me, but I still wondered if they were doing something wrong.  I had never seen a woman take part in anything like that before.   I began to suspect that it might just be because their husbands were there with them that the ladies could be allowed to do something like that.    One thing was becoming clear though, I needed a man if I wanted to do anything of any real magnitude for my Lord.  I wished I was a man all the more because of this.

Was there anything good about being born a girl? 

If men were so wrong about a ridiculous rule making piano playing a sin, even if done for the right motives, then why couldn't they also be wrong about their beliefs of a woman's place in the church? 
Later, I dismissed this as wishful thinking.

In Junior High and High School, my youth minister inspired me like no other had before.  He never knew it, but I made him my own personal role model of Christ for my life.  When people told me to be like Jesus, I had a picture of my youth minister running through my head.  I wanted to be just like him.  I would sometimes give little mini sermons in my room to my mirror, and I noticed how much they sounded like him.  That was a good thing.   If I had a career choice I would have gone to college to be a youth minister.  Aside from a job in the music industry, preaching was my dream.  I had so much to say, and I really believed I was good at it too.  But if no one could accept me because I was woman than what good was that gift?  It was a wasted effort, just another pipe dream. 

One Sunday morning during invitational song, I went forward to dedicate my career to the Lord's service.  I knew that no matter what I would not be happy unless I was working directly for God.  I noticed that we had a woman as the head of our Children's Ministry department at our church and even though that was not my first choice, it was something.   I promised in front of the whole congregation to pursuit a college degree for the purpose of Children's Ministry.   That was not what I wanted to do...I wanted to speak to adults.  That was what I was good at and all my speeches were aimed at an older audience, but again, I knew it was useless.  No one would be willing to listen.  I was just a girl.

While at Bible college, I discovered a cool couple.  Priscilla and Aquila were wife and husband.  More importantly they were an example directly out of the Bible of a woman working in a more of a spotlight position than her husband. 

The New Testament references to Priscilla and Aquila make it clear that, despite the male-dominant culture, Aquila was not the leader and Priscilla his assistant. In fact, of the seven times the two names are mentioned together, Priscilla is listed first five of those times (Acts 18:18-19, 26; Rom. 16:3; 2 Tim. 4:19). Because it was the custom to list the husband’s name first, this reversal indicates Priscilla’s importance in the minds of the New Testament writers Luke and Paul. It also indicates that Priscilla was not teaching as a secondary partner under the ‘covering’ of her husband’s spiritual authority. If there were a universal spiritual principle requiring a woman to be subordinate to the teaching authority of the man, Priscilla would not have been referred to in terms indicating either her equality or her prominence in the Priscilla-Aquila teaching team. ---(Internet Source: http://bible.org/article/aquila-and-priscilla-1-corinthians-1619)

I was inspired by the knowledge of this little "hiccup" in the female submission teaching of the Bible. Still, I was confused at where the line should be drawn and where it could be pushed back. 


I genuinely thought I needed to be married to be truly useful to God's ministry within the world.  If I were to go at it alone, I assumed that I would not be taken seriously.  When I met Drew, we had many conversations about venturing to the mission field.  Unfortunately, as it turns out, it's harder to start a life in another country once you have another person to take care of.  The mission field would have to wait again. 

I love my Drew.  He has helped me discover strength in myself that I never thought existed.  And although I have regrets of not making it to Thailand, liked we discussed so many times before,  I have been a witness of God's ability to use us and our love for people right where we are.  Drew has always been fine with me as an equal in ministry.  So even if I know now that in fact, I did not need a man to be useful to the church, I don't resent my decision to marry.  If I hadn't married, how would I have the confidence to take the necessary steps?   God knows what he is doing.  He knew what He was doing when Drew and I were brought together.  Things don't go smoothly all the time, but we both have a connection to service for God's kingdom that makes us stronger.  Every time we follow that "leading", seeing someone in need and jumping at the opportunity to help, it brings us closer.  I feel a little more whole inside.  I can tell that he does too. 

I still spend time, on occasion, wishing that I had some kind of public forum to tell others the Gospel.  I could fight for my position in the Biblical food chain if I wanted to.  But why?   I'm not sure I would be accomplishing anything for Christ by shouting "Hey!  Let me Speak!"  I'm not giving in or giving up.  As I stated before, I don't have this all figured out on what's right.  I am happy to know that God doesn't look down on me because my gender, the way that many men in church do.  I am thankful for strong female examples in the Bible.  I am thankful for the progress that the American nation has made in this area.  I still believe that there is a line though.  I don't know where it is, but I hope we don't make all the extremists correct by crossing over it. 


Moral of the story:
Be Thankful for what God has given to you.  He is good at what he does. .. ALL he does


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Next Post:   Haunted by Good Feelings

Acceptance- The rest is up to...

"Acceptance" comes easier when people see with their hearts and not with their eyes.

I don't want to be rich, but I wish I was comfortable.  I don't need a house full of elegant furniture and designer clothes, but I want to be able to entertain company of those that do.  I don't need a great career that is more fun than work, but I want to make my dreams a reality.  I don't need to be in a class higher than I am, but I want to feel contentment.

I need to learn acceptance. 


As a teen, watching the unbelievable relationship between my parents, the role of women in the world looked less then appealing.  I saw my Mom as weak and overly emotional.  I read in the Bible that women were to "submit" to man's authority.  To me, the word "authority" and my Father's tyranny were synonymous.   I continually shied away from that scripture.  I had a hard enough time submitting to God's rule over my life.  Submitting to an angry out of control man did not seem like the correct thing to do.  The Bible must not be talking to me, I concluded. 

I've spent the last couple years whining to my friends and my spouse.  I whined to God the most.  Oh Why am I in this position?  Why do I have to deal with this 'evil' attraction all the time?  Why didn't YOU stop my Father from doing those things to me?  Why God?  Why can't I just be a 'normal' woman?  Why do I have to feel like scum around other ladies?  And WHY won't you take this from me?

A few of my friends showed me the door after hearing about all this, but most of them told me that I'm not all that bad.  They said, "Kayt, you are making this bigger than it is..."   But I thought I should think myself cursed because I though the Christian world would reject me...if they only knew.  If they would reject me, then how could I accept me?


The fact is... women are physically not as strong as men (generally speaking - not every man is stronger).  Women have a specific role to play in relationships...this is true too.  So does a man.   And it is also true, according to the Bible, that I must submit to my husband's God given authority.  It also says that Drew should love me like Christ loves the Church (Jesus gave His life as a demonstration of that kind of love).
My Dad messed up his portion of the relationship, but my Mother (in her weakness) held on to God's promises and was faithful to do her part no matter what.     .....Perhaps she was stronger than she appeared.

Whether I am lower class my whole life....  Whether I get cancer and all my hair falls out ...whether my husband dies in a tragic accident...Whether 'love' doesn't seem to last in our marriage....Whether a hurricane blows away my newly purchased home...  Whether I never finish my degree and owe my student loans for the rest of my life...  Whether I never witness my influence changing someones life for Christ.....

I need to learn acceptance.


If this is the life I have been given, and it is.  I must learn to move away from what others might think is right for my life.  God tells me all I need to know.   He loves me.

The Pity party is over.  The struggle inside to make the right choices might never go away.  And I'm done wasting my prayers asking for an end to this struggle.  I am learning to be content in my circumstances.  Whether God-made or man-made, it doesn't matter at this point.  It's done.   There will be no rewrite.   I am here, and this is what is happening now.  All my fighting, screaming, and clawing about it...just makes me selfish and crazy. 

I am learning acceptance.

Innocence Again

"Blue skies and rainbows, sunbeams from heaven, are what I can see when, my lord is living in me."

The stormy weather today reminded me of this children's church hymn that I used to sing at the top of my lungs (to my older brother's annoyance, I'm sure).  And when most people think of thunderstorms, they think of rainbows as their calming reminder that there is an end to all bad weather.    Rainbows are nice, but I like sunbeams better.  Rays of sunlight breaking through the dark clouds and making everything in its path seem more alive with color than it ever had before.  These beams remind us not that the storm will soon be over, but that all the while darkness fills the sky, the sun is still there.  I think that as the winter months quickly approach us, we would do well to remember that fact.

Many of my childhood memories are so overshadowed with pain and self loathing, that I forget about the great kid I was.  I'm not trying to pat myself on the back with that, and yes, I did get into my share of trouble and detention at school.  But overall, my heart was pure and... well, innocent.
 I was always trying to do the "right thing" in every situation.  I knew early on that God saw everything and especially cared about what was inside my heart.  But knowing that did not scare me, because I wanted Him to know.  I found it comforting to believe that someone (even someone I could not see) could see inside and understand me.   We went on walks together after school.  When I spoke to Him sometimes, I would look in the mirror.  I felt so close to God and so comfortable with our relationship that those kind of oddities did not seem "odd" to me.  Life is simple for children.  At least for those of us that came after the great depression and child labor.  Besides school they eat, sleep and play with no concern for what will happen next.  I was an easy going person.  Even after I became a college loan leech, there was not much that got under my skin.  I took life at my own speed.  I think one of my roommates referred to that as "pokey".  I didn't want to rush because I wanted to take the time absorb the things around me.  I guess some people call that meditation. 
I call it observing.

I loved the outdoors.  So much to see and experience and nothing is ever routine.  I once made a spiritual connection between a leaf blowing across the street and my life journey with Christ.  Something that would possibly not make sense to anyone else but it meant something astounding to me.  David wrote in his psalms about how even the trees praise God, but I didn't believe him until I saw it for myself.  The leaves dancing in the breeze, it looks like a thousand hands clapping.  Observing things of nature has always been amazing to me.  But nothing compares to observing the behavior of the most intricately designed creature known as mankind.
People watching was a hobby of mine.  I never knew it had such a simple label until I heard others speak of the same "hobby" in their own life.  I would just sit wherever I had to be at the time, the mall, the park, the busy streets, school, or church.  It didn't matter, people were the most fascinating thing to see.  Why they say what they say, do what they do, why they where the clothes they wear, and who they are with and how they interact with one another...    I watched as an outsider, like an audience at a show.  They were all God's and I wondered if they knew that too. 

I was such a child.  And I was a good little girl for my Savior.  But no one noticed.  No one was observing me.   And I wondered why?

Countless times did the youth minister coach us on how to save a life and show them Christ.  I had listened and absorbed all that he said.  Internalizing it deep into my heart, making it bleed for a world torn apart and in need.  I looked on in jealousy as others in the group brought their friends in to be immersed with a decision to believe. Still, I was left empty with nothing to show for my faith but what I had brought from the start.
Seeds planted and seeds sown.  All that was fine, but to be ignored for my potential to serve became unnerving.  I questioned myself and then I questioned their leadership.

This made my vision swerve.

Looking at the other side of the fence, I could see people becoming successful in their careers.  I saw them fall in love and have fun at their parties.  I observed that they were noticed by their peers for being themselves without restrictions placed upon them.   And it made me wonder....why was I trying so hard to be a perfect servant to people that didn't care?   Soon after, that nagging thought started effecting my behavior.  I tried on smoking again.  (Something I had not done since sixth grade and then it had been only an act of public rebelliousness).  I tried out drinking and the bar scene.  I tried out a "new" language with F*#% as my go to.  Different movies, music, and browsing adult video stores...not much was left taboo to the new me.   And I felt no reason to apologize for any of it.

My conversations with God went from a constant stream to a dripping faucet.  I ran from the guilt that he would try to make me feel.  Who was he to make me feel that way??  He wasn't here living my life....

Questioning my belief in God never became part of that new behavior till I started to acknowledge how deeply deceived I was in my personal thoughts about others.  If I could be so dedicated to a belief in something that I had made every effort to NOT believe in (example: Rosa, Veronica, and Ben) then how could I trust my judgment on something so controversial as the Bible?    It didn't seem so black and white anymore.    I was running from my world that was crumbling and I didn't want to be made into an idiot again.


Now as I sit here downing my root beer,  instead of the hard liquor or real beer that I normally drink while writing, I can't help but think of the "me" I was before all this bitterness began.  Drew and I went to a street carnival while we were engaged (they were always popping up in our college town).  We were still both kids in big people clothes.  We loved amusement park rides and hassling the carnies at the money suckering booths.   As we got out of the car and walked up to the ticket booth, we discussed just how true this childlike fact was about our personalities, and how much we never wanted that to change.   We made a promise to one another that night.  A kind of pinky-swear, to never ever become an adult.  We swore to never mature away from the kid games, laughing at slap stick comedy (i.e. The Three Stooges), and/or enjoying a night of spontaneous gallivanting around the city.  We did not want to grow up in our hearts even if we knew we eventually had to with our bodies.

A few months back I asked my husband, Drew, a loaded question about myself and our relationship (loaded, because I wanted to answer the same question about him).  My plan to point out something that I wanted him to change about himself backfired on me when he told me about what I needed to change.  The question I asked was, "Have I changed a lot in myself since we were married?  Is there something you miss?"
Drew's reply was,"Yes, ....Well, you used to have more faith in God....and that's what I really loved about you."   His response to my question shocked me, but it shouldn't have.  I knew what he was saying was right.  What I hadn't realized, until just then, is that it had been so obvious to my spouse.  He had seen something beautiful and valuable in me when we met, and that something had been my devotion to Christ and the things of Christ....and... I had thrown that all away.  I had thrown it away because no one noticed me for it. 
For someone who didn't want to be an idiot again, I sure felt like one now.

And the rest of the song goes...

"And I know that, Jesus is well, and alive today.  He makes his home in my heart.  Never more will I fear, as long as he, has promised me that, he never will part." 

It's comforting to remember that last part, when you are like me and in desperate need of a second chance.  I wonder if it is possible, living in a world in which time continues forward and never backward, to recapture that seemingly naive hope that we had as children.  The dreams, the ambitions to accomplish things so much greater than ourselves?  Will they ever become real to us again?  To feel ideas are still attainable as possibilities for our future?   To slow down enough from my daily schedule and take a walk not just for exercise?  To watch the shapes in the clouds fly by?  To run through random sprinklers without feeling self-conscience and worrying about what others might think?    To feel free to tinker, play, and imagine?
Is it possible for a now maturing adult like me, to return to that kind of childlike innocence again?.....

 I think so.

Feeding the Monster

It is said...  Insanity is when someone preforms the same action over and over, and each time expecting a different result.

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I am guilty.
Like I am sure many others, I have thought that sometimes the best way of coping with a "problem" is containing it.  Just like a wild animal in a cage, if you want to keep it civil you must feed it what it likes.  Only this time, it will be on the keepers terms and not on the beast's.    The question is, "who is the keeper?" 


It's always difficult to pin point the beginning of habits.  Sometimes they become so ingrained that they are referred to as "second-nature".  But I believe that my lust for a sexual high (and things related) began with my laptop computer.  My husband had loaned it out to a friend so he could do his homework while traveling.  Many months after it was returned to us, I was doing a search through some old files and I proceeded to open up one that I did not recognize.  I can still remember exactly how it made me feel.  The feelings came out in stages.   First, confusion (What is that?  What's going on?)  Second, shock  (I know what that is...and look away.)  Then disbelief and soon after anger at the thoughtless guy that left it there.
It wasn't long after I announced my disgust to Drew, that my curiosity kicked in.  It's obvious that I knew all about sex by this point, but to the world of pornography, I was still a virgin.    After my angry rant, complaining to my spouse about his choice in friends, I approached the computer again to erase the file.  Before I erased it though I wanted to see it again.  The first time, I had not watched it very closely.  I wanted to see what the appeal was.
 I found it.

I couldn't stop thinking about it.  The images stayed in my head.  At first that frustrated me, and I just wanted to flush my brain of everything I had seen.  Then after the picture started to get fuzzier, I had to have another look. 

Drew and I had talked about the idea of going into a adult video store before, but it had been mainly just for kicks.  We giggled like little kids at some of the "toys" and misc. nic-nacs they sold.  I blushed at the video covers and tried hard not to make eye contact with anyone in the store.  We never actually bought anything.
After discussing the idea again, and seeing how it might help give a little more spice to our own relationship, we decided to give it another try.  This time we exited with a  porn video in hand.

The first few times we watched the video together, we made love and it seemed to add some excitement to our sexual relationship.   Then I began watching the video while Drew was away at work (this was before we had children).  I was careful to return it to the shelf in the closet just the way I found it, so that he would never know that I was watching it without him.
Suddenly, sex with my husband was unsatisfying to me.  So I started to replay events that I'd seen in the movie during the course of our love making.  I would pretend that we were in a different settings with different roles and even imagine him as a different man.

By the time that I realized that this was not a benefit to our relationship, it was too late.  I was hooked, and becoming increasingly selfish.

Under mutual decision, we threw the video in the garbage can.  Yet we were both still left with a craving that would never be satisfied within a monogamous marriage.

The Internet is less conspicuous then any triple X store.  I started out with simple searches, viewing whatever the pay per view sites would offer me without the use of a credit card.   I found ways to erase my "history" on the computer so that no one would ever see what I had been looking at.  I was always filled with shame and regret after each viewing session.  Then I would pray for forgiveness.  Sometimes I would even confess to Drew about my online actions.  Of course, I didn't know that he was doing some of the same things and not telling me.
As regretful as I was about what I had seen and done, it was not enough to keep me from returning to it again and again.
I learned that there were sites that offered links to free videos and pictures from other web pages.  That made viewing easier and quicker.
But it was never enough.  I always wanted more.
What had helped me to feel satisfied before was not good enough for the next time.  I started looking at less "traditional" sites because I was becoming sexually frustrated -  I sought out sites that featured things more hardcore such as threesomes, sex parties, and men with men.

I was out of control. 
I knew it and I pleaded with God for help to stop. 
But every time I would ask Him for help, I knew that I was not completely willing to give up yet.  I felt helpless and certain that I would end up begging Him to forgive me again soon.  I still tried to sound genuine, even knowing my reluctance would make it impossible to actually make a lasting change.  
I had to face it.  I was addicted to pornography.


Eventually, through prayer and accountability (and A lot of self-discipline in saying "NO") I broke free from the Internet lust.  But I was not free of the dependency that the sexual high held over me.


Sometime later....

My interactions with Veronica frustrated me.  I had never been interested in witnessing two women together while browsing through the sex sites.   And for the times that I had come in contact with that scene, it did not appeal to my taste.  (I had been more interested in the men.)   As my physical body started reacting more and more to Veronica in ways that I made me feel helpless to control, I went looking for an outlet.  God had failed to answer my prayers to take this type of desire away from me so I had to find a way of coping.   I thought I should find a "release" or an outlet so that I didn't end up making a really big mistake.     My eyes were opened by the super hyped cable television series called "The L Word".  All the scenarios seemed so ridiculous at first and all I could do was shake my head and laugh at what seemed like a script a man had written.  But the more I watched, the less shy I became about their unrealistic behavior.  I justified my actions by saying that I was "feeding my monster" so that he would not crave what he couldn't have.  This was my way to control my behavior around Veronica so I thought....
I was naive to not realize that I was just starting a new problem and one that was so very similar to the first. 

Now I know....
Feeding the monsters only makes them hungrier for more.

Give Me A Reason

"Losing faith in humanity one person at a time." -Bumper Sticker

The idea for this post came to me while watching an episode from the TV series "House".  Is there anyone more untrusting then the main character?  In the episode I recently saw, he was close to sounding just like another conspirator. Everyone is a liar in Dr. House's book.  More directly, everyone has a reason to lie to him. 

When I was still a newbie in college I had decided to share with everyone what I had discovered.  I proclaimed it to other girls in my dorm as if it was some great new revelation from heaven.  I had been doing some personal reflection and just some general deep thinking about life when I had stumbled upon the ultimate answer to all life's questions.  The answer was "Trust".
Our problems are all solved if we just trust God.

I went from room to room, friend to friend, stranger to stranger, telling them the news that I had discovered.   I was so excited about it.  It was like I had personally been brought down into the Jordan and that murky water had miraculously changed my vision forever.  It was all made simple and clear.
Trust, that was the key that unlocked everything.

That was close to ten years ago from now.  And now I laugh and shake my head at that seemingly naive person that I was back then.

I've always had issues with trust.  Trusting others was a big risk, but trusting myself could be even riskier.  Trusting in an unseen God can sometimes take more than a good imagination.  Trust has to be earned. 
In hindsight, God has an exceptional record with coming through with everything I need.  I would be hard pressed to point out a specific instance that He failed and did not come through for me.
I especially have witnessed this in areas of my own personal failure.  After I failed or quit trying,  He stepped in and picked up the slack.  The examples will seem small to others, but together they have impacted my life in very big ways.
Also, it does not take much for me to look around and see the many ways he has blessed me.  I dreamed it but I never thought it would actually happen, I have a husband and two children (a boy and a girl ~ exactly what I wanted).  We are proud owners of two vehicles, a big screen TV, and a mortgage.  I even have the privilege of staying home with my children till they are school age.  That's something that many mothers only dream of (including my own). 
So why?
 Even with so much proof in front of me, why is it still so hard to put my trust in God?

I used to pray for that perfect man for me.  In my journals I actually gave him a name, "Simon" because I had to refer to him so much, it just made it easier.  It also made it easier to focus in on "him" being just one man, and not just everyman.  In Bible College this turned into a big debate between me in a few of the professors.  I wholeheartedly believed that marriage was important enough to God that He had only one specific person in mind for each person to marry (assuming that they would marry at all).  That sounds like I'm a fatalist a little (I'm not), but so be it.
All the profs at the college endorsed each other using  "The Umbrella of God's Will" as their demographic/ blueprint.  In short  "The Umbrella" is a way of saying that there are dos and don'ts but for the rest of your decisions in life, you decide and as long as it falls under His "Umbrella" it's fine.  It is part of His will.  I understood the analogy.  But I believed that marriage was more than choosing a fish from the sea. 
How could I be trusted with a dire decision such as that?  I thought when I gave up my life to God, that meant that He was now driving me.  They all just laughed at me.  Each prof would smile and nod as if to pat me on the head and then shove me aside.  My arguments were not even worth their time.  They saw me as naive about my world.  I was a little child amongst spiritual giants.  What could I know about the will of God?

I struggled with this.  Knowing that my decisions always leave room for error, how could I be sure that I wasn't making a mistake? 

While Drew and I prepared for our wedding day, each day moving us closer, I prayed with every quite moment I had that this was what God wanted.  If it wasn't I asked that he would make it clear. 
I did question (in deep parts of my mind) whether this constant prayer and looking for a sign from God to call it off was actually a pretty good indicator itself.  But I wasn't trusting in my judgement anymore.

Drew and I never really dated.  We were never labeled boyfriend and girlfriend either.  Looking back, it kind of seems like we were pushed together (at least from my standpoint) by circumstance.
  We were just friends before our engagement.  I hold back even saying that we were "good" friends, because my memories of pre-engagement are full of my own personal frustration that Drew was not Ben (you might have to do some back reading to fully understand who Ben was to me). 
I was still in love with Ben when I met Drew.  I was still under the spell that Ben and I would be together at some point, and it was just a matter of patience...my patience.  I was just buying time with Drew, I told myself.  And I did not attempt to hide this fact from him.  Not a great start to any sort of relationship.

When I arrived at my wedding in the park.   I took a moment to clear my head.  I had planned this whole wedding and the day was flying by.  My parents had arrived and my past life living at home with them had been in full swing, including my Dad becoming outraged with me.  I knew that whether I was getting married or not, I would never go back to live in the same house with them again.  I wanted to be free of that life forever.
  In the car, I had my last chance talk with God.  This was the point of no return...not the vows or the rings..It was right here and I knew it.  But instead of the nervousness and anxiety that I had been feeling every night up to this point, I felt peace. 
I had only a naive clue of what was ahead for Drew and I, but I was willing to take that risk.  I was trusting God with every step believing that He knew something more about all this than I did.

I wanted out. 
It was barely into our first year and I was ready to throw everything away.  Not believing that divorce was a godly option in this case, I thought of others.  "Till death do we part" was ringing in my desperate ears.  "Till death", mine or his, there had to be a way to end my sadness. 

I blamed God for this.  I blamed my cursed self the most.  I knew who had made that choice.  I did.  It's not that Drew was a bad guy.  I just had not given myself enough space to know how I felt ...what I thought about him.  I was so busy worrying about what God wanted and how I would be reunited with Ben in the end that reality finally bit down hard.  There would be no more Ben.  Still I loved him like a first husband.  Drew was the friend that had listened to all my crazy stories that I so busy telling that I never gave too much thought to his stories.  I was waking up to realize that I had no idea who I had just married.

I was immersed into the church and into Christ when I was only seven.  I don't remember going into the water or what was said by the preacher before he took me under.  What I do remember is how much I shook after I came up. 
The ladies that helped me to get dressed commented about it and asked if I was cold.  I wasn't, but my teeth were chattering as if I were freezing. 

Not hardly a full day after my baptism, I was doubting.  I was practically jumping on furniture with questions full of doubt and calling them out to my Mother.  (Tom Cruise would've been proud.)
After answering many of my accusations and rants, calmly my Mom told me to stop and be still.  She hugged me till I stopped resisting.   Then holding my head in her hands so she could look into my eyes she said, "Kayt, this is Satan doing this."  Even at seven, that took me back.    My Mother hardly ever spoke of anything supernatural directly affecting our everyday life.  I knew this was serious.  I didn't know what Satan would want with me, or why he would waste his time on me like that, but I was not about to let him have any control.  I was calmer after that.

What does this have to do with trust? 
Giving my life to Christ and saying "I do" to my husband are the two biggest decisions that I ever made in my life.  Even though I thought myself adequately prepared and informed when I made them, to stay and not run from them was the real choice.   My trust in God was the glue that held my feet in place.

I have learned that I can't trust my own thoughts.  There is not much I can do about my feelings towards people and situations.  And sometimes my body reacts to these feelings involuntarily, that is not my fault.  But I have certainly fooled myself into believing more lies than I can count.  My pride hurts to even think about my foolishness and how I've been deceived over...and over.  Especially in knowing that it will soon happen again. 

I don't trust God to care about my desires.  I don't trust my husband to bring me happiness.  I don't trust my Dad to ever really get the help he needs.  I don't trust my friends to stick around after they hear all my "wicked" thoughts.  But the real conspiracy is inside me. 

I create worlds that don't exist....but to me they do.  How can I make that go away?  How will I make the distinctions between fact and fiction after I have believed the lie for so long?  Who can I trust to tell me what's real?   If not myself, is there anyone that really knows for sure?

It took Dr. House an entire two hour episode at a mental institution to get his head together.  His biggest obstacle, trust. 
Where will I find my cure?





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To My Readers:

     I apologize if this sounds like rambling.  It should be obvious that I have yet to fully comprehend the extent of what damage has been done to me.  ( referring to the child developmental process, Trust Vs. Mistrust).  My marriage is fine, not great, but I'm sure you will hear more about that later on.  Thanks for reading...

Six Pence None The Richer

This was the lullaby that I sang to both my babies ...when they were babies. It's a very simple song. It served as a good reminder for me to.