ACOA

Adult Children of Alcoholics.

I was totally ready for bed, laid down and got comfy. I was following my nightly ritual of watching YouTube videos from the users that I subscribe to. I do this every night before I fall asleep, and I think of these people as my friends. I know that may sound ridiculous to some people, but I see these people share pieces of their lives online at least once a week, and some of them everyday. I was watching one of those daily vloggers, Joey Graceffa, when I felt like I needed to pull out my laptop and write this post. RIGHT NOW. It couldn't wait. Joey was talking about having just come out of a therapy session where he was learning to deal with some of the lasting effects of having a parent that is an alcoholic. I was reminded of a book I read called Adult Children of Alcoholics by Janet Geringer Woititz. I haven't finished reading this book, and I honestly forgot that I bought it until I watched Joey's video. I wanted to share some of my insights, though I know that the likelihood of Joey actually seeing this video are extremely thin.

As I read the back cover of Adult Children of Alcoholics, it says: "The legacy of growing up in an alcoholic home-- or any type of dysfunctional environment-- can follow us into adult life with negative consequences on health, work, and love. Rather than continuing to allow our actions and reactions to be governed by an unhealthy childhood, author Janet Woititz offers answers on how to recognize, change and prevent the ghosts of our past from deleteriously influencing the present and the future." This is something that I, as an almost 25 year old woman, still deal with pretty much every day. And I think that I will continue to deal with them for the rest of my life. People who are addicted to substances don't realize that they are hurting the people around them. They think that their continued substance abuse only affects them. When in reality it affects almost every single person they interact with.

My parents are the type that never understood why I needed counseling. They didn't get why I started going when I was in college. They didn't think that their choices and actions had such a profound influence on me, that 10-12 years later as an adult that I would seek help. I started counseling when I was about 21, I went for free on my college campus. It helped drastically. Before that I had fallen into a deep, very dark stage of depression. I made myself sick because I stopped eating and sleeping. I didn't interact with anyone, unless I had no other choice. I got up, went to class, came home and laid in my room in the dark. I started cutting myself and being very destructive. I even started to consider suicide. That was, hands down, the darkest part of my life. Not very many people know all of the details of that time. My roommates got the worst of it. I hid it from my family, and I don't think they know about any of it, even now. My roommates were my saviors in that time. They stood by me. They helped me find the courage to ask for help. They went to counseling appointments with me, they cooked me meals, they dragged me out of bed; and they slowly brought me back to health. I stopped cutting, and I started eating and sleeping again.

And as I went through weekly sessions, I worked through a lot of pain, and I found out what it's like to be happy. There was a pivotal moment after I walked out of the counseling center one day, and realized the feeling that was coursing through my being. It was happiness. I had never, in my 21 years on the earth, been happy before.

I'm here to tell you that you can have that moment too. Though times may be tough and extremely dark, keep your eyes on the light and find the happiness. Learn about yourself and how to get yourself out of the darkness. I still struggle, but I have never gone back to that deep, dark place. And I hope I never do. I have learned a lot of things about myself over the last 4 years. And I am slowly learning how to correct some of the behaviors that are ingrained in me after all of the trauma I experienced as a child. But I'm making progress. Every day is a new day, and gives you more opportunities to make steps in the right direction.

If you or someone you know is suffering through any kind of abuse at home, please share this blog with them, or share Joey's video with them. It always helps to know that you are not alone in what you are experiencing. It helps to know that someone else has lived through the pain and suffering. It helps to know that there is hope for your future. Here is the website to find others in your area that may be going through similar things, and you can support one another: http://www.adultchildren.org/

I'll give you another update when I finish reading the book. And to quote Joey Graceffa (and Effie Trinket) ""May the odds be ever in your favor". Goodbye!"

Peace. Love. Hanga.

Breaking point

I'm one of those people that appears to be overreacting when I'm upset. One the outside looking in, that glass of spilled milk really doesn't matter. Just clean it up and pour some more. It's not something you need to sit down on the floor and cry about. But from my perspective, it's not the spilled milk that I'm crying about. It's everything else that happened today. And yesterday. And probably for the last 3 weeks. If something bothers or upsets me, I don't usually say anything about it. Or I may vocalize it to someone unrelated to the situation. But it continues to be on my mind. And then the next thing that comes along just piles on top of the last. And so on and so forth. Fast forward 3 weeks later and I'm laying on the floor crying over spilled milk.

That's how I feel today. I'm on my lunch break at chick fil a enjoying my free chicken sandwich while I write this. But I'm upset. Over something completely stupid that doesn't matter in the least. In fact, I was so upset I almost started crying on the sales floor and that was when I decided to throw on my jacket, grab my free sandwich coupon and take a rainy walk to chick fil a.

I need to put my happy face back on, go back to work and deliver the best service I can for my customers. I'm hoping that the delicious food and Dr. Pepper in combination with the One Direction blasting in my ears will do the trick!!

Peace. Love. Hanga. 

Truth

So, about 6 months ago, I made a decision. It was a pretty big, kind of life changing decision. I decided to stop going to church. Just a little bit of a review. I was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints when I was 8 years old. I'm not entirely sure why. I didn't know what I was doing and my parents didn't care. They had become inactive as teenagers. But I was baptized nonetheless. For a few years, I went to church occasionally with aunts and uncles. But I never attended regularly. When I was about 14, a high school freshman, my family (which at this point included my dad, stepmom, brother, stepsister and stepbrother) had moved to a new county with "better" schools. I was much closer to several of my aunts and uncles and people in the church started reaching out a little more. I started to go to Wednesday night mutual activities with the youth. And eventually I started going to Sunday meetings. I became fully active in the church, and even started going to early morning seminary and thinking about BYU for college. When I was 17, my family was moving about an hour away, and I didnt want to go. I was almost through my junior year in high school and wanted to graduate with my friends and finish my senior year there. So, my aunt and uncle let me move in with them. About a year and a half after I graduated from high school, I went to BYU Idaho. And after 4 years there, I moved to Memphis, Tennessee.

And that brings us to March 2013. I'd been living in Memphis for about 7 months and I had made some friends at work. They were all non-member friends and I didn't care. I was attending the local singles branch and serving as a counselor in the relief society presidency. The more time I spent with my friends from work, the more I realized it was time for me to make a decision. I was living 2 separate lives. Two very different lives. And it was these friends that helped me to see exactly what I had been feeling for years. I was tired of pretending. In order to be a member of the church, I felt I had to pretend to be someone that I'm not. I realized that when I was at BYU Idaho, and I was sitting in the honor code office waiting for my fate. I'm different. I like different things. I was going to church for all the wrong reasons. You shouldn't be there because you think you have to live up to others' expectations. You shouldn't be there because that's the only place you've ever known how to make friends. You should be there because of your relationship with God and Jesus Christ.

So, I decided to stop going because I was there for the wrong reasons. I was there because I spent the last 6 years pretending to be someone that I'm not just because I wanted to please other people around me. And I felt like I didn't belong there. Especially after I dyed my hair black and got my cartilage pierced. And in the same weekend missed Sunday meetings to go to the zoo with some friends. When I went back to work on Monday, a guy that also went to the singles' branch said, and this is a paraphrase, you dyed your hair a satanic color, got a satanic earring and when you were at the zoo instead of church you probably spent the whole time looking at the bats and snakes and other satanic animals. He later apologized and said he was "joking" but I will never forget that and how it made me feel. I walked away from him with tears in my eyes and that was what solidified in my mind that I don't belong.

Fastforward 3 months, I've moved to a different location at work. One that is closer to home. And I've finally decided to tell someone how I've been feeling. I went to my roommate, Jennifer. She's awesome and I knew that if anyone would be understanding and help me figure out what to do, it would be her. So, I told her one night when we were sitting at the table with my brother and our friend Lauren. We were all sharing problems that we had and I decided to share this one with them. They were all understanding and helped me come up with a game plan. I went to church the next day and asked for my records to be moved to our home ward and I let the relief society president and my home teachers know what I was doing and why. It was almost empowering to be able to tell them how I'd been feeling and get it out there. Everyone that I talked to about this was sad and didn't want me to go, but they were understanding and encouraging. They wanted me to know that they were there when I'm ready to come back. 

Fastforward about 6 months, to the present. Well, to this past Saturday. I was at work and when I checked my phone, I saw that I had a call from a number I didn't recognize. So, I called the number back on the store phone. I got the voicemail of the sister missionaries and hung up quickly. But then they called back. And anyone that knows me, knows that I have a slight problem with saying no. I agreed to have them come by to meet me that evening after work. It started out fine. Just asking questions about each of us. Then we got to the part about church and they started asking what our callings are. My roommate shared hers and I told them that I don't have any. And I told them that I haven't been to church in awhile. Then things kind of spiraled out of control. The next thing I know, after I explain my reasoning to them, I'm being attacked (or that's what it felt like, at least) with statements like "we know that satan is going to lose and he's the one that entices us to do bad things, and we know that Heavenly Father is going to win, so do you want to win or do you want to lose?" Honestly, I don't know. I don't even know if the church is true. I never found out for myself. I went along with other people's testimonies and pretended. And after meeting with those missionaries, I feel that if it is true, I'm a terrible person, and I definitely don't belong. I felt like they were trying to manipulate me into going back to church. That's not how you share the gospel or bring a lamb back into the fold. I hope that's not how they attack non-members and try to bring people into the gospel. I hope that no one ever has to feel degraded and attacked by missionaries like I did after they left. If I recall correctly, is that how Jesus Christ treated people? When the adulterous woman was brought in front of him, was he the first one to throw a stone? No. He said "he that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." (John 8:7). I'd been feeling like I might be ready to go back to church, after going to church activities for a few months. But after the sisters left, I don't think I'm ready. And I don't think I'll be ready for a long time. To quote something that is often said in the church, I'm choosing to be offended; I'm choosing to feel attacked. 

Maybe it shouldn't matter what other people think. Maybe I shouldn't care. But how easy is it to go somewhere and feel like you don't belong? I'll stick to my "sinner ways" for now. And I'll go back if I ever get to that point. I haven't told many of my friends, and pretty much no one in my family knows. I've been afraid of what they'll think, of the disappointment that will be written all over their faces, or, possibly the worst option, the lack of surprise because of where I come from. So, dear friends and family that may be reading this, I'm sorry if I have disappointed you, and I'm sorry that I haven't told you about this decision. I'm also a little sorry that you're finding out through a blog post. I love you all, and I hope you still feel the same way about me. 

And to those sister missionaries, if they ever happen to read this, (assuming I don't text the link for it to them), I'm sorry that you "cried for me when you got in your car because your hearts are broken for me."

I'm going to continue to be myself and try to figure out the twists and turns of the path that I'm on in my life. I'll figure things out and I'll get to where I need to be. 

Peace. Love. Hanga.