Wounds

Credit

A few weeks ago Pete and I were working on something together.  In an impulsive and reckless gesture that was meant to be a joke, he lunged at me with his equipment.  I had my back to him, unable to hear him above the noise of the machine, and it caught my flesh.  I jumped and spun around. I looked down.  Pink welts started to form on my leg.

We rushed inside and he did everything he could to take care of my wound.  It became red and raw.  As the moments pass it looked worse and worse. Pete's face was white. There were no words to his remorse. No adequate apologies for his stupidity. He did everything he could think of to make me comfortable.  He felt such utter despair that I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

At first it stung.  But the shock of what he had done protected me from immediate pain.  Gradually though it started to throb.  The kind of pain where you can feel your pulse in the injury.  After a few hours of throbbing, it reduced to a lingering ache.  At night when I fell asleep I would forget about it until the morning, when I stood up and felt stiff as my body reminded me the wound was still there. 

Pete bent over backwards to make it right.  He would look at it and touch it with painful regret, and all the meekness of the penitent.  He was attentive and compassionate.  He never once let pride prevent him from demonstrating his repentance.  He took ownership of the injury and was perfectly responsible for it.  He exhibited relentless sympathy and never tired of my complaints at the pain and inconvenience of it. 

At one point he said "This is the stupidest thing I've ever done." And I looked at him quizzically. 

It is remarkable to me how I heal from this trauma more quickly when my hurt is met with ownership and responsibility.  How my heart melts like butter on a skillet when I am treated with genuine tenderness and compassion.  I have such a longing for that tireless sympathy whenever the pain and inconveniences of this experience resurface. 

My flesh wound has healed.  There is a scar, but it only brings feelings of warmth and gratitude when I think of how I was treated while I was healing. 

"I did this to you." He said.  "I can't believe I did it. But whatever you need, I'll give it to you."

The Power I Possess

Back in February C Jane had a series of guest posts about pornography addiction. Some of the comments were misguided at best and cruel at worst.  But I appreciated that she was giving blog time to the issue and so I submitted my own story that I wrote with the help of a friend. (Who turned out to be a demanding editor.)  C Jane didn't use my story, but I felt grateful for the experience I had writing it. 

Recently I've found myself seeking refuge behind my glass window again and I thought back to the strength I felt when I wrote these words.  Scabs taught me about writing less like a text book and more like a human.  Today when I read back through it I am reminded of the ability that authentic writing has to empower and validate self. 

Anyway, I thought I'd publish it today in an effort to recommit myself to its principles. 

**********

Credit

It takes an act of courage to write a post like this.  For someone in the throes of pornography addiction, it takes an act of courage to read the comments of such a post.  It is easier to protect myself by keeping my story on my bathroom floor, where I sit when I cry, behind a glass wall observing instead of healing.

So much is misunderstood.  Our paths are the result of experience and consideration that an outsider can’t begin to imagine.  A cynical and judgmental voice once belonged to me, and after nearly drowning in the shame of his sins and my shame by association; I was rescued by the idea that we are all flawed human beings. 

He’s an addict.  But I’m not going to write about him.   I want to write about me.

In the beginning I tried controlling him with passwords and filters. I persecuted and shamed him with religious fervor. I begged him to stop with shoulder-shaking sobs.  I tried to compete by being my prettiest, sexiest self. I created the ideal environment in our home and comforted him after each relapse. One night, sensing he was in a bad place, I tried staying awake to protect him from himself.  Silent and still beside him in bed I waited, sure the minute I fell asleep he would bolt upright and grab his smartphone.  My eyelids became too heavy and in the morning I awoke to his confession.  It was so predictable and STILL I could not stop it.  I failed.

My efforts were futile.  They were resented by my husband.  My well-being and sanity were compromised.  There was finally relief in the idea that I could not control him.  After reading, studying, praying and reaching out for support, I began to see the freedom and power I did possess.  It is the power to define and live my own life despite my husband’s choices.  I gave myself permission to heal and forgive. (See Step 1, here.)

One day while feelings of anger and injustice hovered over me, I was reminded of the advice of a friend.  She said, “Have the day you were going to have before he ruined it.”  So I did.  I played with my kids, went for a run, and even laughed. My husband isn't the one who pays the price when I dwell in bitterness. I pay the price because my attitude of indignation is manifested in all my relationships.

Refusing to heal is like living behind a glass window.  On the outside the world is going on without me.  People are kind and happy. But behind the window I nurture hate and fury.  Betrayal justifies anger and resentment.  My bitterness isolates me.  The window protects me from feeling.  Like a foul odor, my anger ekes out into the way I treat my children, other men, other women, everyone. Hateful and negative thoughts become consuming.

"Forgiveness is a gift that I give to my soul. Without it, I have no peace."  (Rhyll Croshaw.)

The place behind the glass window is miserable and lonely.  My time in that place is a dark and painful memory.  Occasionally I seek refuge behind the glass, in some effort to feel control and safety, but it is not the place for me.  So I return to the world on the other side of the glass, the place where I define and live my own life. 

The decision to stay or leave is so intensely personal I hesitate to even discuss it. In one ear I hear voices shouting about how I deserve better, how I'm crazy to stay. In the other ear, equally intense voices ask me if I'm really willing to ruin my children's lives over pornography.  I hear a voice of reason that tells me that I don’t owe anyone an explanation.  I hear a voice of compassion that reminds me of his goodness.  I hear the voice of my insanity that screams with ridicule that he will never change.

I stay because I view my husband's addiction like an illness. The analogy isn't without its flaws, but I've turned him over to the proper professionals, a counselor, a trusted confidant, and the healing power of the Savior, to help him recover. I can't cure him, and while he is humble and willing to accept treatment, I will honor my marriage vows. My husband is a wonderful man.  He is ambitious and successful in his career.  He is a gentleman to me and takes time to let me know I am appreciated.  He makes me laugh, and he finds ways to execute even my most outrageous plans.  I love him. This is only a small part of why I married him and why I remain with him, and says little of the memories and life we have built together.

There are no guarantees in life.  But, I can live a happy and fulfilling life with a compassionate and empathetic heart, not just in spite of my husband's addiction, but because of it.  The victim is not the part I want to play, emerging from the fight weak and disabled.  It is the heroine I want to be, emerging with strength and confidence.  Not worse for the battle, but better.  

I am empowered and liberated by the knowledge that I am strong. Even though I’m tempted to avoid stepping out from behind the glass wall, I’ve learned not to live in fear.  I am courageous and I’m okay with vulnerable. 

Jane attempts a book review

 

Order Online at salifeline.org

 

We are into February now and I'm failing and nearly all my New Year's resolutions. Sigh.  Except I DID give up sugar for a month and I DID read two books in January.  The first was Mansfield Park, by Jane Austen and I loved every page of it.  Since I'm so successful at resolutions, I've resolved to be more like the ever-humble Fanny Price. 

 

The second book arrived in my mailbox with just enough time to finish it in February.  It was this book, by Rhyll Croshaw. 

 

Now for an embarrassing confession.  Up to this point I've never read a book about recovery.  I hope Rhyll and any other authors [who will probably never read this] can forgive give me, but I'm always a bit cynical when people turn their tragedy into a royalty-earning paperback. 

 

Ouch. I know that was awful.

 

But I genuinely believe that Rhyll means to help, and not to financially gain by this.  And like Melody Beattie and others, they have a gift for understanding that blesses many lives when they share.  Including mine.  I really liked this book. 

 

I liked this book because I felt like it summarized in a practical way some of the most important discoveries I've made in the last two years.  And all in one place!  It is straightforward, it is easy to understand.  She articulates well, and I feel like she reaches the common denominator.  It's not written by a scientist, or a journalist, or even a psychologist.  It's written by a WoPA. 

I don't really know what else to say, except don't take my word for it.  Read it.  It's not too long, it's easy to intellectually digest, and you can write notes to yourself all over it. I will share a few of my favorite quotes.

 

"The bar has been raised for us.  We no longer are content with a parallel relationship; we are working towards a unified, synergistic relationship..."

 

"When we have clear boundaries, we will not find it necessary to explain why we are doing something or why we are not doing something."

 

"We must stop being afraid of our addict husbands. We must look up to God with courage and faith. Our Heavenly Father does not condone the behaviors associated with sexual addiction, and He does not want His daughters to enable it."

 

"Forgiveness is a gift that I give to my soul...it is not conditioned upon apologies or restitutions on the part of the offender."

 

And lastly,

 

"Caring for ourselves expresses our appreciation to God by our careful stewardship of His creation - life." 

 

There are several other thoughts I'll probably write about in the future.  But in the meantime, read the book. 

 

 

Post Edit: In the back she has a few pages of what she calls "Road Maps" that I think are really helpful in determining if your husband is in recovery, and likewise if YOU are in recovery. It's good stuff.  

Minutes, hours, days

Yesterday was our anniversary.  Nine years.  We ate take-out with our kids.  I think we'll try for something a little more romantic this weekend.
We are two different people than we were one year ago.  In fact, we are two different people than we were one week ago.  For better or worse, right?

A few days ago I felt so discouraged, so afraid, so confused.  I remember distinctly thinking  "I know I'm going to forgive him for this, but I can't imagine how..."  The pain is so intense sometimes I can't see any way out of it.  I can't see how we are going to get to a good place again. I can't see how we will end up on the same page again.  

I can't believe it's only been one week, it feels like so much longer.  A couple days after our discussion on Friday we tried to talk about it again.  He wasn't ready to talk, but I tried to force it.  There was still too much residual hurt and anger.  We both agreed it was time we needed.  He asked if that meant space?  I said no, just minutes, hours, days. 

Sure enough, as each day passed I found myself able to make small talk with him again, to laugh again and make jokes about the kids.  It helped a little that he had to go out of town for a couple days.  Isn't it SO annoying sometimes that time is the answer?  I must be the most impatient person alive. 

RESOLUTION NOW PLEASE!

At  one point during that forced conversation he said to me:

"We're going to get through this, it's going to be okay."

At first I resented that, I felt like he wasn't taking it seriously enough.  Then I appreciated it.  Like Scabs pointed out to me, we have the same goals, we can focus on that. 

So last night after the kids were in bed we spent our anniversary sorting through the sticky stuff and we miraculously came out on top.

My time machine

I finally came up with something for Angel's experiement.  Here it goes.

Lately I've been feeling like I'm forgetting all the pain.  I know, this is amazing, I should be grateful and thrilled, and for my own benefit, I am.  But I feel like I'm losing my empathy.  I also feel like I've heard so many stories, much worse, that I have no "right" to complain.   After group meeting the other night another woman, even more advanced in recovery than I am, and I were visiting.  She said she sometimes worries that when she says things like

"I'm so grateful for this experience..." or "I no longer worry or suffer..."

that the other women in the room want to ring her neck.  We agreed that it is nice to see that someone survived, that there IS hope.  But at the same time, I don't cry during meetings anymore and that almost makes me feel like an outcast.   (Not really, let me be clear, there are no outcasts in group meetings.)

Last night Pete and I had an argument.  It wasn't over anything substantial, but I rolled over in bed and closed my eyes.  I forced myself to think about nothing.  Breathe in. Breathe out.  Go to sleep.

Then I remembered.  I remembered, months ago, being curled up in the fetal position on the blue rug in our bathroom.  I let Pete take care of the kids while I first sobbed, and then closed my puffy eyes.  Forcing myself to think about nothing.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Go to sleep.  Escape reality. 

When the memory hit me the pain didn't come back, just the memory of the pain.  It was real.  It had hurt tremendously.  It felt like betrayal.  I was devastated.  I can relate.  I do have empathy.

The pain of everything in the past is gone.  It is truly gone.  I am healing.  I am totally uncertain about the future, there are no guarantees but I do feel prepared.  It has been two months since Pete's last relapse, and I am clueless as to if or when another episode will come.  But regarding what is behind me, it is at last, behind me. 

I don't mean to imply that I have "completed" recovery.  I'm not sure that is even something I can ever cross off a checklist.  It's a life process for me, even if Pete eventually overcomes addiction.  I am still sorting through issues.  So this is where I stand today:

-I am days away from having the most frightening conversation of my life.  I have completed my personal inventory for Step 4 and am preparing to share it. 
-I still struggle with intimacy and affection, and get frustrated with myself as I strive to have a healthy sexual relationship.
-I still feel regular temptations to return to codependent behaviors and constantly let the choices of other people determine my mood, attitude, and ultimate happiness. 

But,

-I have moved on from the debilitating fears of my husband's addiction, our future, his salvation, death and doom, to more managable fears about people not liking me, rejection, and failure. (Progress, right?)
- I have forgiven Pete for his past misdeeds.  I don't perpetually blame him for all the shortcomings of our relationship.
- I don't blame myself for any of Pete's past choices.
- I have a strong desire to reach out to others, to help them, to comfort them, and to give them hope.
- I have faith in God, that his divine plan for me is going to give me peace no matter what my mortal experience will entail. 
- I view the trials of others in a different light, it's sad and I feel awful for their pain, but I have faith in God's plan for them as well. 
- I have learned a new way to live, and a new way to love. 

I look forward to the coming year, for myself and for all of you!

Just So Ya Know

Do you ever find yourself fiercely defending your husband?  In group meetings? To a family member who "knows"?

"He has this problem, but otherwise he is a great guy. He is a good husband, hard working, a great dad..."  etc...

I have.  I do.  Even on this blog I've done it.  It's like we have to prove their worth and potential in spite of their obvious weaknesses.   In this blogging environment it's even harder because there is so much focus on their problem. 

Let me just say this:

I love Pete. I believe in him.  He has infinite worth and I am grateful for his many redeeming qualities.

I believe in your husband too.  He has infinite worth, and I am certain that he has redeeming qualities. 

I just want you to know that.  There are a couple women in my ward whose husbands I have seen at group meetings.  I don't think of them as perverts.  I don't think of them as sinners.  I love them, I admire their courage, and I am cheering for them and their wives.  So I hope this can still be your safe place, where you can share your feelings honestly without being afraid that I will judge your guy.

Which brings me to my next point.  I have constant inner turmoil and conflict about finding the balance between validating your feelings and perpetuating your frustrations.   If I come down harshly on the men, it's out of infinite compassion for the women.  But at the same time I don't want to contribute to any animosity or anger that is festering in our hearts. 

SOOOOOOO... what is this all about?  If you followed the comment stream on my last post (very thought-provoking) an anonymous reader shared some things about her husband.  She wanted to come to his defense after I called him out, but due to some technical difficulties we weren't able to post her comments: so here they are, I hope she doesn't mind.  But I want her to have her say.  (It might not make sense if until you go back and read our thread.)

Haha, maybe shouldn't have swung they counselor comment out there so quickly.  Don't worry, you can trust counselors!!! We have traveled a long road and as you can see from my comment I am probably not completely healed (kind of hard to find support when all of the counselors are your husband's colleagues).  But the sin really is behind him now...it is possible. Some of his perceptions still drive me nuts.. I think he was trying to tell me that he could see that guy's perspective...but the way he said it struck a wrong chord.  But he knows when he's off and he doesn't let it get into therapy.  He believes in healing families not tearing them apart. But just in case I I totally destroyed a layer of trust for anyone out there...as an FYI...he works for the church and he has to have a temple recommend at all times or he loses his job...and they check often.   Kind of a nice perk, if you ask me.  Nothing like having your livelihood depend on it to keep you in check.  And we've been to hell and back, so he knows his stuff :).

Anon:  no harm done.  I believe you that he knows his stuff.  A little empathy goes a long way and I imagine his ability to relate to his clients can help quite a bit.  I hope you find the healing you need.

my dear anonymous readers

There are so many anonymous comments on here, understandably, that it makes it hard for me to address one individually by saying "To Anonymous."  But I received a comment yesterday that spoke to me, because I could have written the words myself.  So I want to address some of her questions here. 

"i want Him to take this burden for me! but, as strange it it may seem, i dont know how!??"

I know what you mean.  I'm still working on that.  But the best way I can sum it up to is to say this.  First- when a feeling of pain, anguish, betrayal, disappointment or anger comes along.  FEEL it.  Let it in.  Cry, punch a pillow, scream, or sob.  FEEL it.  Then, when the exquisite moment has passed, let it go.  If you need a physical symbol of this, write it down on a piece of paper and put it in a box.  A box that is tightly taped up, where you can't get it out.  But give that feeling to God, and be done with it.  It's His now.  Listen to a song or do something to distract yourself and don't dwell on that feeling any more.  He will take it.  He wants to take it.

"im tired of feeling "sick" half of my existence out of fear he's doing it again.

This is one of those feelings you must turn over.  It can't be your burden to carry.  The worry will drive you mad.  This is part of accepting God's will and accepting your husband's agency.  Find a tiny little seed of faith, and nurture it.  Trust God that even if your husband is looking at pornography, it will be okay.  You will find peace. 

"im tired of the incomplete trust, im tired of the intimacy problems,  worse yet, im at the point of asking, "how many times is enough"?"

Hang in there, be patient with yourself and allow time.  All wounds take time to heal.  And intimacy requires feelings of emotional safety.  Remind your husband, in a kind way, that you will require forgiveness and patience just like he does.  How many times is enough?  I can't say.  But if you really are feeling like you can't handle it anymore I suggest a counselor.  He/she can help decide what you are emotionally capable of handling and when it is no longer healthy for you.  As for trust, I'm still working on the difference between forgiveness and trust, but there IS a difference.  Seek forgiveness, it will come and then you are free to give it.  But trust must be earned.  I'm still working on this.  I have learned though, that I must forgive my husband whether or not he abandons the sin. 

To all who are reading- there is a lot of advice out there.  But each of us must work many of these things out on our own. There is a manual, it is a pilot program for the loved ones of addicts.  It has given me many practical tools to help me cope.  In fact, it has been a game-changer for my healing.  If you want a copy I can email it to you.  hisstrugglemystruggle@gmail.com

addiction

I hadn't planned to post anything until after the new year.  I was anxious to focus on Christmas and enjoy time with family.  Unfortunately, addiction knows no calendar, recognizes no holidays.  One of Pete's worst episodes happened in the days leading up to Mother's day.  It was easy at that time to mourn in my victim-hood and wallow in self-pity.  Now, thankfully I suppose, because of the many things I'm learning it is not so easy to do that. 

I want to write about addiction, itself, because when I find myself feeling angry and confused the knowledge I've gained on the subject rescues me from bitterness.  I should point out that understanding addiction only helps me intellectually.  I still feel the emotional hurt, but I can intellectually answer the "WHY!?!?" questions and that is a good starting place for me. 

Elder Russell M. Nelson said:

"Addiction surrenders... freedom to choose.  Through chemical means, one can literally become disconnected from his or her own will!" 

I love this quote.  I cling to these words.  Every time I ask myself  "Why doesn't he just NOT LOOK?"  or "If he knows how this will hurt me, and him, why does he continue?" 

Why? WHY? WHY!

I won't get into the physiological changes that occur when an individual becomes addicted, I'm not qualified to do so.  But if you don't believe that there are chemical and neurological changes involved, I encourage you to learn about it.  It might bring you great comfort.  (At least intellectually.)  Elder Marvin J. Ashton explained that addicts "are prisoners within their own bodies.  Many feel totally helpless, dependent, and desperate."

As I mentioned before, this knowledge doesn't prevent the sting of relapse.  The hurt still comes.  But this knowledge helps me see Pete in a different way, and although his actions caused my hurt, I find it easier to forgive him because I know what he's up against.

Forgiveness after Relapse

Pete's week of travel did not end well.  His last night away he stayed in a hotel with no safe, and during the middle of the night he relented to temptation.  The next morning, hours before he was to return home, he texted me his confession. 

Of course I was angry and hurt.  I cried briefly and then busied myself with the day's tasks.  At first I was anxious for him to get home so he could see how angry and hurt I was.  But the hours went by and not long before he was to arrive I read an article my brother had emailed me.  The article had nothing to do with what was on my mind, but I felt the spirit and my heart was softened.  As soon as I saw Pete, looking hurt and broken himself, I knew I wanted to forgive him. 

Usually after a confession we go through an awkward time of my withdrawal.  We avoid each other while I wallow in my frustrations, and him in his.  I feel like the angrier I am and the more hurt I appear, the more he will realize how his actions effect me.  I act this way until the spirit starts to work on me, and I feel like I've made my point.  This time I knew right away that I didn't need to pout for days for him to understand how he his actions effect me.  I offered immediate forgiveness and he offered genuine apologies and infinite gratitude.

Forgiveness has helped me personally to avoid feelings of bitterness and resentment.  I feel close to Pete rather than angry at him.  I've let go of thoughts of retaliation and ideas that I need to prove something to him or teach him a lesson. 

The best way I can explain it is the way Pete said it.  My immediate forgiveness has given us a "head-start".  Instead of a time period of coldness and animosity in our home, that fosters further difficulties and temptations for Pete, our home is warm and encouraging.  Together we are focusing on moving forward, letting go of the past and maintaining our hope for the future. 

I was surprised at how quickly forgiveness came to me.  It never has before, it may not always, and it probably doesn't come that quickly for everyone.  But I can testify that the principle of forgiveness applies to me in my situation.  It is a commandment with a wonderful blessing, it has healed my heart and will save my marriage.