Some of the strongest women I've ever known are the women I've met in group therapy. Amidst the most vulnerable and painful moments of my life, I opened myself to receive the strength of these dear sisters in Christ. I didn't know how broken I was until I started to attend group. I knew I was sad. I knew I had been hurt. I knew I had hurt others. But I thought I had done a good job dealing with everything and was on a path to recovery. I would attend the temple and find peace. I prayed. I continued to go to church and read my scriptures. Yet my eyes were opened during my first meeting with these other Mormon women.
It is a hard thing to look at the truth of pain wrought by another's sins. It is a harder thing still to have to look at your own sins so nakedly. But as I sat at that table with a dozen other sisters who had the courage to admit they needed help outside themselves, I found myself a new home where I was given permission to go through my pain without being alone, without judgment and condemnation. I was surrounded by other women who could understand my pain and my sins more than anyone else because they had felt it too. When you experience such empathy it gives you a small glimpse of the Savior. A Savior who bled from every pore as He experienced those same pains brought upon by all sin. He did this for me. He did this so He could perfectly understand me and not only sympathize- Oh I'm sorry that must be hard- but empathize- I feel how hard that is for you, it's hard for me too. As these sisters wept with me and offered me chocolate, a must in such sisterly situations, I began to truly understand the depth of the Atonement. I also found on my journey to recovery, to healing, to peace, that the hardest thing for me was accepting forgiveness. I worked on forgiving those who hurt me. I worked through all the loss, fear, and heartache brought from outside myself. But I found that I didn't know how to extend the same mercy inward. There was a point where I knew I had been forgiven by my Savior. But I couldn't forgive myself. I walked around thinking, "The only reason people love me is because they don't know me. If they knew me they would not be capable of love toward me." Then by extension, if others could do nothing but condemn me, I couldn't figure out how not to condemn myself. So, though I mentally knew Christ had forgiven me, I couldn't accept His forgiveness. I disallowed myself to feel His peace. One of the most important things I had to accept about myself was that it is ok to sin. I had this lightning bolt moment when I realized that I'm supposed to sin. I am not meant to be perfect. I'm not meant to be strong enough to always get it right. If that were the case, there'd be no need for the Savior. No need for the Atonement. I watch so many people in the Church who sin and destroy their entire lives, leave their families, leave the Church, leave this world, because they cannot accept the Atonement. They cannot accept that they sinned. That they were weak, vulnerable, swayed by the world, by pressures, by expectations. I saw how I could go down that path. It was frightening. It wasn't until I accepted that my weakness, my vulnerabilities, my ability to be swayed is a part of who I am. And that's okay. I had to accept this truth: I am not okay, and that's okay. God knew. God loved us so much. And He knew we were imperfect beings. So He sent His Son. And I believe to the depths of my soul, through the harrowing experiences of pain and sin I have worked through, that "whosever believeth in Him should not perish" (John 3:15-17). When I think of perishing I think of it physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I perish physically when I use food abusively by either over eating or not eating, knowingly hurting my body, and thinking I deserve it. I perish physically when I don't exercise my body and allow it to become weak and pained. I perish mentally when I tell myself what a failure I am. When I tell myself all anyone else sees is a failure. I perish emotionally when I avoid feeling or when I mask my feelings with anger or resentment. When I put up a wall to protect myself and then keep that wall up so I cannot heal. I perish spiritually when I stop doing things that enrich my soul. For me that's attending the temple, taking walks outside, allowing time for meditation, and scripture study. When I not only believed in the Savior but believed the Savior when He tells me that the Atonement is for me, that is when I began to heal. That is when the Atonement saved me, saved my soul. And then I was empowered. I was empowered by Him, by His spirit of forgiveness, to go out and do likewise. One of the greatest gifts of accepting the Atonement is the increase of love toward those around me. In therapy I became the strong sister to the new sisters, as those first women were to me. Outside of group I understand charity better: the pure love of Christ. When I mourn with those that mourn or comfort those that stand in need of comfort, I feel it deeper and can give more richly. There is no pride. Only humility and a deep and abiding love for my Savior, His Atonement, gratitude, and hope for the days ahead. Sara
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