Best of times, worst of times

As always, Lent provides some real highs and lows.  The first week of lent has been hard for me over the years.  Slipping into this time of repentance with fasting for some reason always brings out extra troubles.  I guess that’s what you’d expect, except that I never expect it.

Mental note: Lent will be hard. Don’t be surprised.

It’s different every year, but this year’s lent opening number was primarily a surprise trip down memory lane.  As you would expect from a sexaholic, I’ve done a bit of a number on my wife in a few ways.  Mostly she is the soul of grace, but on occasion the PTSD rears its ugly head and we have to have a “conversation.”  This sucks on many levels.  It sucks for her.  It sucks for me.  She doesn’t want to have to think about things.  I don’t want to have to go back there.  But it happens, and we go back through it and work it out again on another level.  I try not to be frustrated but there’s some of that inevitably that comes up.

After that conversation I found that for a few days I was in a depressed state.  I hate the remembrance of my evil.  I’d much rather remember me in my awesome moments, and not so much the ones where I completely debased myself.  But they are there, and they are a needed reminder of why I go through Lent and repent and turn myself over to God.  And not just through Lent.  Ever day, every morning.  It’s part of the 12-step life and I continue to practice that, unworthy though I am.

God forgive me a sinner.  Make of me what you will.  Thankfully it’s in His hands, and that’s where I can forgive myself.  When I’m on my own, I’m just a dirt bag.  When I’m in His hands I find I can be more gentle with myself.  I’m being saved.  Slowly, one prayer, one day, one Lent at a time.

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