Is Your Husband Still Using?!

When I find myself obsessing about Pete's addiction there is a question I'm dying to ask all my WoPA friends. I want to call them up, spreadsheet at hand, and ask them all 

When was the last time your husband looked at porn?  And when was the time before that?

You know that feeling, when you're thinking that if you could just get your questions answered you would surely feel better about life?  If I could just hear that other husbands were still relapsing, surely I would find acceptance and peace.  

Fortunately I've made some progress and I don't obsess about Pete's addiction too often.  But Pete is still relapsing.  Sometimes he is sober for a few days, sometimes a few weeks, and other times he can go months without acting out.  

And here I am, still learning lessons about how I am powerless over Pete's addiction.  About how I can. not. make. him. change.  No matter how subtle I get in my codependency.  Last night I asked my therapist if I needed sobriety in my marriage.  He told me that he couldn't answer that, I would have to decide for myself.  To which I responded 

"I think I'm going to decide I need it."  

"Okay Jane.  But just remember, that if you need sobriety in your marriage, you might have to leave your marriage.  Because you are not getting it."  

Immediately I saw what I was doing.  I was giving myself another shot at changing Pete.  I was thinking-  If I tell Pete that I need sobriety in our marriage, then he'll have to get sober.  By golly THAT will be the thing that will make him sober. But it won't.  

In Al-Anon they teach that relationships can exist when the addict is still using.  This is really difficult for me.  But I'm exploring it.  It looks like this: 

Old boundary: If Pete acts out we don't have sex for one week. 

New boundary:  If I don't feel present and connected with Pete, I decline sexual advances. 

Old boundary: If Pete is acting like an addict, I emotionally and physically detach. 

New boundary: If Pete is unpleasant, unkind or grumpy, I don't need to be around him.  I can make my own plans, do my own thing.  

Old boundary: If Pete has a relapse, he sleeps in another room. 

New boundary: If Pete has a relapse and I feel upset, I practice self-care.  

This new way of having a relationship with Pete is terrifying and liberating at the same time.  It's terrifying because I am relinquishing so much [artificial/percieved] control.  But it's liberating because  I don't have to analyze his behavior looking for signs of recovery or addiction.  I just go with my gut, use my feelings to gauge how much I can trust and connect, and go with it. 

It doesn't mean that I approve of Pete using porn.  It doesn't mean that I'm in denial about his addiction.  It just means that I'm accepting my reality. I'm making a deliberate choice about having a relationship with my husband that is vulnerable and has inherent risk.  And I'm honest about how I can not manage his behavior.  

Gratitude crashes the Pity Party

A couple weeks ago during that therapy appointment where I was so angry about my "illness" my therapist asked me if I was feeling any gratitude about it, or around it.  I think I looked at him like he was the crazy one.

"No."  I said, emphatically.  He took the hint and backed off that point for the moment and we moved on to something else.  But then later in the week at an Al-Anon meeting a friend said to me

"I just feel so grateful that I live in a time and place where I can get good help and support for my problems."

Wait- did she just say grateful?

Then she compared it to Autism, and how today's autistic children (and adults) have much better resources and more social awareness than past generations.  And hopefully with time, future generations will have even more of those things.  But she was just grateful to have meetings, where she was understood and loved, and literature that helped her feel validated and also helped her cope with and understand her alcoholic.  A little light went on in my head as I started to entertain the idea of gratitude.

The concept of gratitude has been part of recovery since the get-go for me, but I have to admit I often approach it with some reluctance.  Gratitude is a total pity-party crasher, and I love me a good pity party.  I have also felt like gratitude was kind of made-up, giving credit to a Higher Power when maybe some things were just coincidence and didn't deserve any special attention.

But this week my therapist called me out on that.  He talked about how gratitude is a gift of peace we give ourselves, and it isn't any more made up than the things I choose to be angry about, such as blame. Blame is a funny thing.  It's like I have this human instinct to place blame, once I know who's FAULT it is then I can get over it.

I've blamed Pete's parents for a long time, for raising Pete in an environment of shame. Not long ago I had an interesting discussion with some friends about whether we become who we are in spite of our upbringing, or because of our upbringing.  I don't think we can ever really know for sure, but when my therapist told me I could choose gratitude it occurred to me that I could choose to be grateful for Pete's parents. I am grateful for the things they did teach him that have influenced his life and helped mold his character.

In college I learned about fallacies.  Hypothesis contrary to fact is "offering a poorly supported claim about what might have happened in the past or future, if circumstances or conditions were different." (Codependency is a breading ground for hypotheses contrary to facts. If I have more sex with my husband he won't look at porn, for example.) Saying that Pete wouldn't be an addict if his parents had raised him differently is a fallacy.  

My point is- I can make assumptions, speculate and assign blame until the sun goes down and it isn't going to make me feel any better.  Or I can offer myself the gift of gratitude, which inevitably and immediately offers me peace and comfort.  

********************
So maybe it's time to dust off that damn gratitude journal.  Do you keep a gratitude journal? Does it work for you? 

I'm PISSED About My Illness

I've had a really bad week.  I couldn't put my finger on it, so I was grateful to have a therapy appointment last night.  I have to say, doing therapy on my own couch isn't too shabby.  Sometimes I even wear pajama pants because my appointments are at 10:00 at night and my therapist can only see the top half of me on his computer.

“You have an illness.” He said to me.

I do have an illness.  My illness is a broken brain. Faulty ways of thinking.  Misleading beliefs.  Its symptoms are a compulsive urge to control, lousy self-esteem, persistent self-doubt and bouts of anxiety.  I learned two important things about my illness while talking with my therapist last night.

1- I’m mad that I’m sick.  I’m PISSED actually.  I’m angry that I am perpetually plagued with feelings of inadequacy. I’m ticked that I feel so emotionally fragile. And I’m so damn frustrated that I can’t stop trying to control people and things.

2- My illness is not my fault.  But it seems to me like it is.  It seems to me that if I were better at recovery, if I were more clever, if I were less needy – then I wouldn't be so sick.  But no.

“You’re illness came with you.” He tells me.

It’s as much a part of me as my blue eyes and my long toes.  My illness was influenced by my upbringing just like my personality and sense of humor have been influenced.  But I didn't earn my illness.  Which means I can’t un-earn it by being more clever and less needy.

It also means that my illness wasn't caused by Pete’s addiction.  My illness is no more his fault, than his addiction is my fault.  Yes, his addiction has exasperated my symptoms.  But just as certainly, my illness has exasperated his symptoms too.

It’s like getting strep for the third time in the same winter and being so pissed about it.  But it’s there nonetheless.  And all you can do is see a professional and take care of yourself.  So that’s my game plan.

I have an illness.  I’m pissed about it.  But it’s not my fault.

******************

Disclaimer:  I understand that this language may not resonate with everyone.  And that’s okay.  I use the word illness at the very least, as a metaphorical convenience, at most- a statement of fact. An unhealthy condition of the body or mind. I don’t mean to sound critical of myself, or make it seem like I am damaged or inferior. Rather, I feel like this perspective is a liberating and compassionate way of viewing my messy self.  And the first step in accepting my messy self.  I imagine it is a similar experience for someone acknowledging the presence of chronic depression.  It sucks.  But it’s there. And depression doesn't make anyone damaged or inferior, because depression is an illness too.

Getting Well

Saatchi Online Gallery, KwangHo Shin

I just want to straight up own something.  I have not been healthy. I have watched pathetically as I've seen Pete slip out of recovery all the while I was slipping out of recovery.  I'm not sure how or why it happened, I seriously thought I knew better, but all of the sudden I found myself in an emotional and mental frenzy.  My composure, my happiness, even my ability to function day to day was totally entangled with the behavior of other people.  Call it what you want, but I am just going to call it codependency.

I know not everyone relates to that, but it's real to me.  Not every person who drinks alcohol is an alcoholic, and not every person married to an addict is a codependent.  But I am.  And giving it a name gives me such a sense of relief, that now I know what I'm dealing with.

Addiction is a family disease, and I think that means that living with an addict is likely to make family members sick. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually and even physically unhealthy.

I love and believe in betrayal trauma.  It is validating and compassionate and kind.  But I can't stay there forever or else I will perpetually be justified in my victim-hood.  Self-pity is a character defect for me, it incapacitates me.  My goal isn't to be uninfluenced by those around me, in particular those I love.  My goal is to be able to FUNCTION within the feelings that will naturally come with my relationships.  Hurt and disappointment will inevitably be a part of my existence. I just want to be strong enough to cope with them.

During and after the Al-Anon meeting when the fog was lifting from my head a little bit I could see how unhealthy I had been.  I was STILL trying to control Pete, I am much more subtle these days but I allowed myself to become preoccupied with his recovery or lack thereof.  My mother-in-law recently visited and looking back I can see how I totally engaged in the drama triangle with her.  I let her behavior ruin my mood, sometimes my day, and even my experiences.  Sometimes just parts of her personality made me feel nasty inside. I was consistently resenting her, resenting my circumstances, wanting so badly for things that I can't control to be different.  The serenity prayer feels so cliche to me now, but isn't it just so TRUE?

I can't live in anger forever, willing my anger to change things I can not change.  I don't want to be endlessly confused about what I can control or influence and what I can not.  And I especially don't want to live in fear.  Fear of what people will think of me.  Fear of having porn addiction in my life forever.  Fear of being hurt.

It's from this slightly healthier place that I'm making my blog public again.  I know that making it private was in part a punishment to Pete, a form of manipulation.  It was also based in fear, that what I wrote would make him more unwell.  Unfortunately some of the things I wrote came from my broken brain, but that's okay. I'll leave them as they are.

I talked to him this morning and told him that whatever I write here is what it is.  And it needs to be his responsibility to decide whether or nor to read it, and what to do with the feelings it gives him if he does read it.

So that's that. Sorry for my drama.  Hopefully I'm back on the path to sanity, serenity and contentment.  

Take Two, or three or four or thirty? - Part I

Credit

Since we moved abroad Pete has slowly been slipping out of recovery.  We knew this could happen.  We knew the move would be hard for him. He came here and had to start over. No group, no sponsor, no therapist.  He started going to meetings - but lately even those seem to not be a priority in his shedule.

Every few weeks we would talk about it and I would express concern, but I was usually dismissed.  Finally one night, about a week ago the conversation came up and I asked him

"Are you saying you don't want to be in recovery?"

To which he responded

"I don't want to be in recovery for you."

Which I heard as

"You're not worth it."

Logically I know that's not what he meant, but it stung nonetheless.  It really stung.

I left the house and walked for awhile and thought about how desperately I wanted to be over this. Done with it.  I want so badly to have a healthy, close relationship with him.

But Pete is not in recovery anymore.  He might be a dry drunk, he maintains his sobriety, but I don't trust him.

That is so disappointing.  It hurts my pride to think that I am back to fighting old battles with myself and my addict.  I think I was starting to believe I had influence, even control.  But as I walked under the street lamps the other night I gave myself a pep talk.

You can do this.  You have tools. You have intuition.  You have knowledge.  You don't have to trust him.  You don't have to doubt yourself. You can't convince him of anything.  You are going to be okay.  You don't have to prove anything to him or take ownership of his recovery.  You can make mistakes.  You can do it wrong and then start over.  You don't have to fear him.  You mustn't feel ashamed.  You can do this.  

Deep breath. Here we go.

Step one. I am powerless over the addiction of my loved one.

Could we have been so mistaken in the men we married?

Credit

Our library of recovery books just keeps growing and growing.  I love to read but I can't say that I love to read recovery books.  I follow my gut and read the things that speak to me.  The other night Pete was reading to me from the book Alcoholics Anonymous, and there is a chapter for wives.  I highly recommend it, especially if you are just embarking on this journey.  Ultimately the goal of the chapter is to provide guidance to wives of alcoholics, but the beginning reminded me so much of my own experiences with Pete's pornography addiction, and the experiences I've heard from friends, that I wanted to share it here.

I'm sure we don't relate to all the problems or all the feelings, but I think we can all probably relate to many of them.  What part speaks to you?

***********************

"We have traveled a rocky road, there is no mistake about that. We have had long rendezvous with hurt, pride, frustration, self-pity, misunderstanding and fear. These are not pleasant companions.  We have been driven to maudlin sympathy, to bitter resentment.  Some of us veered from extreme to extreme, ever hoping that one day our loved ones would be themselves once more. 

Our loyalty and the desire that our husbands hold up their heads and be like other men have begotten all sorts of predicaments. We have been unselfish and self-sacrificing.  We have told lies to protect our pride and our husband’s reputations. We have prayed, we have begged, we have been patient. We have struck out viciously. We have run away. We have been hysterical. We have been terror stricken. We have sought sympathy.

Our homes have been battle-grounds many an evening.  In the morning we have kissed and made up.  Our friends have counseled chucking the men and we have done so with finality, only to be back in a little while hoping, always hoping.  Our men have sworn great solemn oaths that they were through [acting out] forever. We have believed them when no else could or would.  Then, in days, weeks or months, a fresh outburst.

We came to live almost alone.

There was never financial security. Positions were always in jeopardy or gone. An armored car could not have brought the pay envelopes home. The checking account melted like snow.

Perhaps at this point we got a divorce and took the children home to father and mother. Then we were severely criticized by our husband’s parents for desertion. Usually we did not leave. We stayed on and on. 

As animals on a treadmill, we have patiently and wearily climbed, falling back in exhaustion after each futile effort to reach solid ground.

Under these conditions we naturally made mistakes. Some of them rose out of ignorance of [addiction]. Sometimes we sensed dimly that we were dealing with sick men.

How could men who loved their wives and children be so unthinking, so callous, so cruel? There could be no love in such persons, we thought.  And just as we were being convinced of their heartlessness, they would surprise us with fresh resolves and new attentions. For awhile they would be their old sweet selves, only to dash the new structure of affection to pieces once more.  It was so baffling, so heartbreaking. Could we have been so mistaken in the men we married? Sometimes they were so inaccessible that it seemed as though  great all had been built around them.

As wives of [addicts] we would like you to feel that we understand as perhaps few can. We want to leave you with the feeling that no situation is too difficult and no unhappiness too great to be overcome.”

Wreckage

Credit

Pete and I have had the same conversation, in various forms, every few days or weeks over the last few months and years.  It always seems to start innocent enough, him sharing his feelings, or me sharing mine.  (Back when I felt safe sharing my feelings.)  Then, like a funnel, all the words eventually come out into one theme.  It looks something like this. Pete saying to me

"You need help with this."
"You have a lot of baggage here."
"I'm not the only one with problems."
"You are causing permanent damage."

You get the idea. These statements sound terrible when taken out of context, I'm sure when Pete said them they seemed more reasonable.  But to me, they always sounded terrible. I always heard them as isolated statements. 

In the beginning he would say them in anger, he would be downright cruel.  But I learned the signs and when he was angry it was easy for me to see that I was dealing with the addict. Then he had a little recovery and he started saying the same things, but he was calm.  This was confusing, if he wasn't angry then maybe he was being reasonable and maybe he was right.  I would doubt myself, and fall apart.  But I have good support, and I was able to sort these things out.  It wasn't his place to manage my recovery, and even if I was wrong, it wasn't his job to say so.  With more recovery, he is even more subtle and reasonable.  Making me even more confused.  But old habits die hard, and Pete was still victimizing and blame-shifting at worst, managing my recovery at best. 

There are a couple sayings in the recovery world.  "Taking someone else's inventory" and "cleaning someone else's side of the street."   Codependents do this, and addicts do it when they are being codependent.  It's telling someone what they are or aren't doing right in their recovery.  When Pete would do this to me it would trigger me badly.  I had totally relinquished his recovery to him, why couldn't he do the same for me? It is one of my biggest areas of trauma.  I couldn't stand him criticizing my recovery. 

The last few times Pete and I have had these conversations they have ended very badly.  Like me locking myself in the bathroom and sobbing uncontrollably.  A couple weeks ago this happened.  It was the experience I wrote about here.  Last night Pete said something to me that was incredibly validating, and was the kind of compassion I've been waiting for.

He said

"When I heard you in the bathroom, crying like that, I knew that wasn't a manufactured response.  It was something that happened TO you.  It was a trauma response.  And instead of thinking what I would usually think in my addicted brain  'See! See what those WoPA have done to her! See how unreasonable she is!' I thought,

Wreckage.

That is the wreckage of my addiction."

Wreckage is "the remains of something that has been badly damaged or destroyed."  Pete had a moment of clarity when he saw that my total meltdown was part of his wreckage.  My destroyed confidence, my damaged intuition, my obvious emotional instability. 

Pete can't take any ownership of my recovery. It's up to me to sort through his wreckage in whatever ways I want to try.  And I'm allowed to make mistakes.  I feel the same way about his recovery.  I've given him the space to try whatever ways he wants to try. And he is allowed to make mistakes.  He will admit that he has.  Even since that conversation, I have found myself on the bathroom floor again. 

But he can take ownership of the wreckage of his addiction.  And although I don't think my personal healing needed him to take ownership, I think it might be necessary for the healing of our marriage.

Emotional Dependence

Credit

I still get heart palpitations when Pete and I go to bed at the same time and after I switch off the light I wonder if he is going to say something about that damn elephant.  Last night he did, but it was a good talk.  The kind of talk that I’ve been avoiding for the last few months.  It required me to dig deep, not get defensive, and hear and say difficult things.  

Flashback to the first five months of 2013 when I was being a yo-yo.

Relapse – Detach - Reconnect – Relapse – Detach

Over and over again.  Finally I’d had enough.  Relapses after I’d reconnected hurt worse because there was more on the line.  “I’ve given myself back to you, I’ve been loving and vulnerable and you STILL chose addiction.”  Detachment feels so much safer, the relapses are less painful when I’m not emotionally connected to him.  So after our trip to Hawaii I said “I’m detaching indefinitely.”   

This detachment left Pete feeling totally exposed.  Last night he acknowledged how he had used me to medicate, not just sexually, but emotionally.  In the past when he was lonely or hurting he knew he could come to me and I would validate, comfort and alleviate his feelings.  Essentially I protected him from identifying and working through difficult emotions by offering reassurance and probably even minimizing those feelings.  Ever since I emotionally withdrew, he has been left to feel his feelings more exquisitely, give them names, and work through them, finding healthy ways to cope rather than medicating.  And to be honest, he has done a lousy job of this.  He admitted last night that he feels the reason his relapses became more frequent in the months after I finally did the 180, is because having to really feel increased his need for his drug.  The jury is still out, but it seems like he is finally learning how to feel without self-medicating. 

[And of course part of his medicating in the past was using me as a sexual drug.  I felt for years that he was doing this, but I lacked the confidence and self-worth to be sure it wasn’t my fault our sexual relationship was so confusing.  It has been such a relief for me to hear him admit to that.] 

I think that’s why detaching is so terrifying.  Because when I let him fall on his face, he did.  And I think for awhile he even believed that it was my fault he fell on his face.  But the truth is, his addiction was going to get worse whether I detached or not, because he wasn’t really recovering.  I think it got worse faster, but at least that meant he hit bottom faster.  Unfortunately there are no guarantees that detachment will provide this result.  It could be that Pete fell on his face and liked it there, or at least felt that the pain of the problem wasn’t as bad as the pain of the solution.  The pain of the solution is the pain that comes with owning and facing some pretty deep resentments, memories, hurts and then of course the pain of withdrawal.

And now, it’s another terrifying future for me.  I’m terrified of reconnecting.  I told Pete that after I could see a healthy combination of recovery AND sobriety, that would be when I would feel safe reengaging in our relationship.  Last night we talked about seeing his therapist for help navigating that future and I realized that reconnecting emotionally has me totally freaked out. 

 

But at least I know that I've done terrifying things before.  And I also know that when the time is right, I'll feel it.  And I can trust myself.  And I can take all the time I need. 

Let's get real

Credit

Recovery nurtures honesty.  I'm not talking about honesty in terms of accurately reporting facts, although recovery nurtures that too.  I'm talking about honesty with my intentions and my desires. If I'm being honest with myself I need to admit that my last post was just a more subtle way of getting validation. 

Regardless, I appreciate so much your words of support and compassion.  I feel strong again, and I feel like we can all do hard things, especially if they are things that will make the road more clear for those coming behind us.

So here is part one of my remarks (too long for one post) to the leadership of my stake. My stake president wanted me to share how recovery has helped me, particularly the 12-step program.  I tried to do this while also shedding some light on how Pete's addiction affected me.

*********************

In Finding Nemo and Wreck It Ralph, Pete and I laugh longer than most during the 12-step support group scenes.  It’s our world, we get the jokes, and our laughter is a sign of how far we have come.

It was nearly two years ago when President ----------  encouraged us to attend the church’s support group meetings.  With knots in our stomach and sweaty palms we walked through the doors of our first meeting. 

I don’t recall now what I expected to find at those meetings.  Maybe angry, embittered wives, or maybe other women like me, self-righteous and determined to fix their husbands.  But what I actually found were compassionate, charitable and humble women, seeking the Savior.  The meetings are safe, I made immediate friends and felt the reassurance I was not alone.  I found validation and encouragement and hope. 

Each time Pete confessed to me, and having the realization that we were dealing with addiction was traumatic and devastating.  My self-esteem was hurt, I felt inadequate.  I felt betrayed by his behavior and confused about who he was and the reality of our lives.  I was incredibly lonely, afraid to share our secret and seek support.  I felt stupid for being blind to signs of his behavior.  I lived in fear and anxiety about the future, and I took responsibility for his addiction and began making rules for him and trying to manage his choices.

I want to share how the 12-step program helped me to cope with Pete’s addiction, and how it helped me as an individual to understand the atonement and faith. 

Step 1: says that I “Come to understand that I am powerless over the addiction of my loved one.”

Coping with Pete's addiction in a healthy way began with me learning about codependency.

The best definition of codependency I’ve read is simply my happiness and peace being dependent on Pete’s behavior.  His addiction sent me into a tailspin of insanity and intense emotions.  Although I was reluctant in the beginning to accept a “label”, I soon realized how harmful codependency was.

In addition to feeling like my emotions were unmanageable, my codependency manifested itself in unhealthy behaviors like persecuting, shaming, nagging, etc.  I sobbed and begged Pete to change.  I guilted him and shamed him.  I gave him the silent treatment and the cold shoulder. I withheld my love.  It is not in my nature to get angry, but I’ve had very angry moments. 

I did these things because I didn’t know better.  Finding my own recovery, using the 12 steps, attending a support group and having a counselor have helped me learn a new way to deal with my intense feelings and a better way to treat Pete without enabling him.   

In steps 2 & 3 I come to believe that the power of God can restore me to spiritual and emotional health, and then decide to turn my will and my life over to the care of God the Eternal Father and his Son, Jesus Christ.

I've realized that faith isn’t just believing in God, it is believing that God will care for me and facilitate my happiness no matter what happens in my marriage or what the circumstances are in my life.  Faith isn’t believing that God would remove my trials, but give me an endowment of spiritual strength to get through them. 

I was used to living in fear. Fear about the next relapse, fear of people finding out, fear of infidelity, fear of divorce. I learned that I could surrender my fears about the outcome of Pete’s addiction to God.  We like to say “Breathe out fear, breathe in faith.”

A few months ago Bishop ---------- gave a lesson in a combined priesthood/relief society about how the atonement applies to the victim.  I’ve certainly had need for the atonement as a sinner, but until this experience I didn’t understand how the atonement applied to the anguish I felt as the victim of someone else’s sins.  The 12 steps are truly a step-by-step course with practical application about accepting the Savior’s gift of the atonement to relieve me of my pain and despair.  It isn’t my job to punish Pete, nor is it my job to save him.  What IS my job is to let go of my disappointment, hurt and grief in exchange for forgiveness and peace. 

I'll Try And Get Along With You

Credit

I was washing conditioner out of my hair the last time Pete and I had an argument.  He started to talk about his frustrations and I braced myself behind the shower curtain.  There was some blame, some minimizing, a general lack of empathy and the conversation ended with me dripping wet in my towel, tears streaming down my face as I begged him to leave me alone. 

“We’ll talk about it later” I sobbed.

“But we never will.” He said as he left.

After that last discussion there were those typical days of awkwardness and chilly silence.  I felt the impending doom of the next phase of Pete’s addictive cycle. 

“Maybe it’s time to totally let him go.” Scabs told me.  “Let him fall.” 

So I tried.  And he did.  A relapse, or slip or lost battle or whatever you want to call it.  He had one.  And then another and another, dutifully confessing them to me each time.

The first disclosure came on my way home from work.  I said nothing.  That night we sat at the kitchen table and he asked me if I wanted to talk about it. 

“No.” I said.

The first time was the hardest time.  As he got up and walked out of the room it was all I could do to keep my butt in the chair.  I wanted to chase after him, extend an olive branch, I wanted to reconcile.  I wanted to ease his pain.  I desperately wanted to feel close to him. 

He told me that he didn’t think he had ever hit rock bottom.  Part of me wonders if I have been the emotional safety net that has caught him above the depths of his stony pit.  Validating, encouraging, comforting, engaging, participating.

After each confession in the last two weeks I have tried to respond the same way.  “Okay.  Thanks for telling me.”  No more emotionally exhausting, late-night conversations analyzing the relapse.  No more questions about how it happened or how he handled it.  No more invasion of his addiction.  I’m on the sidelines this time.  I’m not in the game, and I’m not even the coach. 

Feeling a little nervous about this method of detachment I asked my counselor if it was healthy.  She pointed out that my previous methods had done nothing to help Pete’s cycle of addiction, but more importantly my previous methods were not getting me to the place I wanted to be.  After obsessively trying to detach the “RIGHT” way, she kindly pointed out that because all addicts and codependents are different, every method is going to be different.  What is effective for one, might not be effective for another.  When I told her about how I was letting it all go, almost completely, she smiled and said

“Try it.  See how it goes.”

The other night Pete asked me what I expected of him.  I told him I had no expectations.  For the first time I am not emotionally attached to any outcome.  I expect, that tomorrow morning I will wake up. And I will live my life.  I will do what makes me happy if I want to be happy.   If he is not healthy enough to be a part of that, then maybe he’ll pursue recovery.  Or maybe he won’t.  But I’m not going to mope around about it.  If I feel like being pleasant, I’m going to be pleasant. 

I’m not saying I don’t have my sad moments.  But when I have them, I own them.  They are not obligatory, and they are not a parallel of his.   They are not an inevitable, uncontrollable response to his addictive cycle. 

I don’t have to punish him by invoking the silent treatment.  I don’t feel compelled to be in a sour mood toward him as a demonstration of my hurt.  Nor do I feel responsible to make a soft place for him to land.  I am totally relinquishing any responsibility I felt for his happiness. 

The other night I watched an episode of Parenthood where Sarah says to her teenage daughter

“I’m done trying to control you.  It doesn’t work.  I just don’t want us to be like this.  I love you so much.  I think I’ll just try and get along with you.”

And that about sums it up for me.

Strong Enough to Be My Man

Credit

When Pete and I were first married I followed him everywhere around our tiny apartment.  If he was studying in the living room, I'd lay on the couch.  If he was reading a book on our bed, I'd try and read over his shoulder.  It was that way for years, and I think sometimes he felt a little cramped, like he just wanted some space and I just wanted to be close to him. 

When pornography became the third wheel I went through a period of time where it was difficult to be around him.  There was so much hurt and anger.  There was also so much codependency, and it was exhausting to be managing his life for him.  It took all the fun and romance out of my attachment to him. 

Detachment and boundaries (and offspring I suppose), have brought me an independence I never knew before.  I'm okay with my alone time, in fact I love it.  I need it.  It's how I take care of my side of the street. 

Unfortunately, this has come full circle and turned Pete into a raging codependent. 

Where did she go? Why isn't she constantly at my side? Does she still love me? Does she want to be around me?

He has become needy.  He is a black hole for my attention.  I feel like I give and give, and it's never enough.  It has turned into the same kind of desperate, panicked longing I used to feel. 

I used to walk on eggshells.  Now Pete walks on eggshells.

I used to fish for validation.  Now Pete fishes for validation.

I used to guilt him into spending time with me.  He guilts me about... you get the idea. 

With all do respect to all codependents out there. 

Codependency is unattractive people!

I know that I didn't cause Pete's addiction, but I know that before he or I knew what we were doing, my neediness perpetuated his resentments which in turn led to acting out.

Now that I'm on this side of the fence I can see how frustrating it is to feel like someone's happiness is dependent on me.  It is so much pressure to feel like my every word and every move is being overanalyzed and interpreted. 

What does that mean? Is she mad at me?  Why is she ignoring me?

When in fact it meant nothing.  I'm not mad.  Nor am I ignoring him. 

My heart goes out to Pete.  But I've learned the hard way that although my love, affection, attention, admiration are important aspects of our relationship; his happiness and peace need not be held hostage to them.  And what is more attractive and magentic than a person who is secure and emotionally stable enough to emanate that kind of confidence and contentment?

Nothing.

Ask Pete.  He can't get enough of me.  *wink*

Post #4,753 about Detachment

So in the words of Chantel, "How do you handle people who manipuate you?"

Credit

I've been thinking and reading up on boundaries again and this is what I found:

BOUNDARIES:
"Boundaries are guidelines that we establish to define reasonable, safe and acceptable limits concerning the actions of others... We resolve that we should be treated with love, dignity and respect.  We have the courage to say "no" to demands by our addicted loved ones [or just our friends and family] that are not in our own or their best interest.  We have a right to protect ourselves and choose to take responsibility for how we allow others to treat us.  'We are seeking to allow less pain, chaos... and negative engery in our lives.'"  (Healing Through Christ 12-Step manual)

Allowing my little sister to yell at me and say cruel things was not only harmful to me, it was harmful to her.  My responsibility was not only to protect myself from her hurtful words, but to give her an opportunity to stop treating me in a way that was not in her best interest either. 

So what should I have done? I think it might be unreasonable to expect a 15 year old to have the maturity to handle it this way, but ideally I would have said to her

"I will not listen to you speak to me that way."  And walk away. 

The tricky part about all this for me is that, like Chantel, I want to correct people.  I can't just walk away because I feel compelled to offer a lengthy explanation of the faults in their behavior and the reasoning behind mine.  But my #1 rule for boundaries is that I can't set boundaries for other people, I can only set them for myself. 

So when it comes to Pete, I have to be okay with the boundaries I set, even if he never agrees with them.  As long as I am confident that they are in my best interest, and that I'm right with God, I can cease with the desperate attempts at persuading him that they are in HIS best interest too. 

For example, I can say to Pete

"I can not be part of your chaos.  When you are agitated or irritable, I have to detach."

Again from the manual,

"Detachment... means that we don't deplete our inner resources by struggling with something that is beyond our power to accomplish." 

Pete's mood is beyond my power to change.  This doesn't mean that I won't talk to him or interact with him, just that I won't do anything to try to change him or his behavior.  I won't manipulate.  Nor will I allow him to turn to me to try to make things better for him. When things ARE better for him, when he has found it within himself to restore his peace, then I can feel safe being emotionally invested in him again. 

When I shared my 4th Step Inventory with my sponsor we talked for awhile about my family and my resentments toward them.  She said to me

"Let them be who they are."

I struggle so much with wishing Pete would "let me be where I am."  The least I can do is offer him the same courtesy.  It is in the best interest of my peace and serenity to surrender all the manipulators in my life over to God.  It is between Him and them to sort out their issues. 

And because I'm still a little hung up on justifying my detachment, a quote from Alicia who sums it up well for me.

"The truth is: It's hard for me to invest fully in something when I know it isn't solid. I can't blindfold myself to uncertainty and carelessly throw my cash in the pile. I'm going to get hurt again. My heart is going to get broken again. I'm going to grapple with the harness of betrayal again.  I'm only doing today what I feel is right to do today."

We Teach People How to Treat Us

Before I dive in here, thank you so much everyone for the love and support.  I've been feeling so lonely lately and your words help so much.

Credit

My counselor told me once that "we train people how to treat us." I knew what she meant but for some reason it didn't resonate with me.  She says a lot during an hour and I usually only walk away with one or two things to focus on. But it came up as we were discussing an "argument" I'd had with my mom where my mom was using guilt to try to change my point of view.

I've been thinking about it much more lately, about how we teach people that they can get what they want/think-they-need from us by treating us a certain way.  In other words, they find our achilles heel and exploit it to get the validation/attention/forgiveness they think they need.  It doesn't really work, it's a total lose-lose for both parties, but I'll get to that in a minute.

When I was a teenager I fought often with my younger sister.  I'm not the type to throw out cruel, cutting remarks in an argument, but my sister was. 

[By the way, I KNOW that at least on a subconscious level I manipulate the people I love most to get what I want.  For example- a conversation with my sensitive little boy where I pout and say "It makes Mommy really sad when you don't obey.  Do you want to make Mommy really sad?"]

Anyway...

My sister would hurt me terribly in our arguments.  My entire family knows that I am prone to guilt, I need words of affirmation and I have a sensitive conscience.  After a big fight my little sister would come to me and say "Why are you mad at me? I hate it when you're mad at me."

I'd melt like chocolate and we would reconcile.  There was rarely an apology, just a sly maneuver on her part to get me to concede.  But the truth was, I didn't really forgive her, in fact I resented her. But because I tolerated her behavior, I was in a way responsible for her repeatedly using this tactic against me.  No, I'm not to blame for her selfish choices, but I'd at least led her to believe that this method of hers worked.  

I had a painful realization the other night that I've trained Pete too.  He knows me better than anyone.  He knows how effective guilt can be in getting me to concede. 

This is really hard to write because I know he will read it and I know it might make him hurt or angry. 

The other night it was two days post relapse, Pete was grumpy, stomping around the house a bit.  He came to me looking for validation, he tried to hug me and I turned him away.  It was a boundary.  I couldn't hug him when he was acting like that.  He got mad.

At first I wanted to say

"I'm sorry. Come back.  I'll hug you! I'm sorry!" 

in a crazy codepedent way. Don't make him mad. Don't hurt his feelings.  It's YOUR job to love and support him, cheer him up, etc.

This post is getting long so I'll cut to the chase.

It was scary when I realized that it's not okay for people to talk to me the way my little sister used to talk to me.  It's not okay for people to guilt me into anything.  I have to teach people to treat me with respect. I have to teach them a new way to treat me that is non-coercive and accepting.  This means saying things that my whole life I've been so scared to say. 

"You can not talk to me this way." 

"I can not do that for you.  I'm sorry."

"Thank you for sharing.  You might be right.  We can talk about it later."

But even harder still, being able to walk away.  No more begging.  No more pandering.  No more sobbing to manipulate back. 

Manipulation might provide immediate results, but it feels hollow because it is so insincere.  It is desperate and forceful.  It fosters resentments and makes communication unclear.  Last night at group meeting a friend told me

"Now that my husband has been sober for two years he says that when he looks back on the way he treated me it's like those Claritin commercials.  All of the sudden it's so much clearer.  He didn't know that he couldn't see clearly, until he saw clearly."

Rock Bottom

Credit

What IS rock bottom?  For me, a year ago,  it looked like this:

"I can't be this way anymore.  I'm desperate.  I acknowledge his problem.  I want to change.  I'm ready for a new, better way to live."

I remember clearly my rock bottom with Pete's addiction.  It was too heavy, I couldn't carry it anymore.  I didn't want to be pathetic and miserable.  I didn't want to be bitter and suspicious. I didn't want to be afraid of the future.  I didn't want to be full of hate and I didn't want to be depressed. 

I wasn't functioning as a proactive, positive mother. I withdrew.  I preferred isolation because social situations, particularly with family, were too difficult,  they required too much pretense and insincerity.   I was embarrassed.  I was lonely.  I was hypersensitive and felt like a victim. 

But I was ready for help.  I was a sponge.  I read and studied.  I prayed.  I reached out.  I found friends online and I started the blog. I discovered 12-step meetings and amazing women at support groups.  I cried at every meeting, but it felt wonderful.   I was cleaning up the crap.  From rock bottom, I could only go up.   I had hope. 

Now, I feel like I'm able to cope with Pete's addiction in more healthy ways.  There is much less of the fear, embarrassment, isolation, self-pity and bitterness associated with his problem. 

But after doing the Step 4 Inventory I'm no longer living in ignorant bliss of my own addictions.  Or compulsive behaviors if you prefer that term.  I prefer that term because my compulsive behaviors are much more socially acceptable than pornography addiction, and I like to make that distinction.

I digress...

Last week a friend of mine suffered a terrible tragedy.  In the midst of her crisis I found myself relapsing into a raging codependent.  

"I'm gonna fix it! I'm gonna fix her!" 

I called, visited, texted, arranged meals, babysat kids, sent flowers.  I did everything I could think of to manage the pain.  I took ownership of her trial.  And to make it worse- I wanted credit for it all.  I was constantly looking over my shoulder to see who was taking note of my good deeds.  I made her experience all about me, and put my happiness on the line.   Would I come through? Would she shower me with love and appreciation and tell me how everything I'd done had been just what she needed to get her through?

For once my actions were good, but my intentions were selfish. And in the light of my new-found knowledge  I could see through my own transparency.  All my efforts were good, and I know she appreciated them.  But I know I can't be so obsessed with "fixing" everything.  And realizing that I was exploiting her situation to make myself look good filled me with  horror at my true colors.  And I think I hit rock bottom again. 

"I can't be this way anymore. I'm desperate. I acknowledge my problems. I want to change. I'm ready for a new, better way to live."

100th Post

Wow.  I really can't believe I've had that much to say.   Who am I kidding? I'm never lacking in things to say.
In celebration (?) I have a few links to post:

A teaser for the SHAMED movie.  I can't help but feel love and hope when I watch these videos.  I would love to have some of these people over for dinner.  Including the professionals. 
http://vimeo.com/45676200

Since this is the place where I can share all the things that are too Taboo to share in my real life: Here is a link about "Defuzzing Your Person."  Sometimes I'm in the mood for this sort of thing, today I'm not really.  But maybe you are?  I like it because this lady is very respectful of body, and if it's not your thing, that's great.  http://velvetdragon.com/etc/shave.html

Some really good info on codependency.  Just when I think I've learned it all (haha!) I find some new helpful knowledge.  Knowledge is so great.  http://mentalhealthlibrary.info/library/code/codelds/codeldsauthor/links/hopebook/adjustin3.htm

Right now I feel like I'm getting so much better at coping with relapses, but I'm also realizing that in a weird way I just postpone my reactions.  (Thanks Alicia for helping me see this.) Instead of having an immediate meltdown, I have a slow and subtle slip into my self-pity funk.   Which leads to an eventual relapse into some more subtle codependent behaviors.  

I suck at analogies.  Really.  But I came up with this bizarre one that best describes the way I feel about my WoPA friends. 

Have you ever stayed in the bathtub until all the water is drained out?  Laying in a warm full bathtub is comfortable.  But as the water slowly drains your body is left to support it's own weight.  Bodies are heavy and bathtubs are hard.  By the time all the water is gone it is really uncomfortable to be laying there.  

Thanks for being my bathwater everyone.  Seriously your love and comments (particularly the ones that have the word "bahahaha" in them) are my bouancy to keep me from feeling the hard parts of life too uncomfortably. 

Do I really have another 100 posts in me?  Pshh. Probably.

Control

Pete had a rough week.  He becomes vulnerable during the holidays or times when he doesn't go to work and follow his daily routine.  What is the saying? Idleness is the devil's playground? 

After warning me that he was struggling with his thoughts, I was on guard, but the day before Thanksgiving he seemed to be cheering up and pulling out of his rut.  We watched a movie together and then our completely opposite expectations collided. An argument ensued and I saw a side of Pete that is rare and dark.  I felt like he was being strongly influenced by the powers of adversary and he was irrational and angry.  He finally rolled over and fell asleep, but I knew he was in a bad place.

I knew what was going to happen.  I knew that he would wake up and be tempted.  So I determined that I would stay up all night, on guard to protect him from himself.  For hours I lied there, thinking and worrying.  I felt the ugly fear that comes ahead of relapse.  I cried because I was self-pitying.  I felt a sense of hopelessness, that this would be my life forever.

 I only lasted until about 2:30am and then I could no longer keep my eyes open.  In the morning, just as I had expected, Pete confessed.  I sobbed.  I sobbed because it had been so obvious.  It was so predictable, and STILL I could not prevent it.  It wasn't even that I was angry that it had happened, I was just angry at my own helplessness. 

Addiction recovery programs talk about how addictions cause our lives to become unmanagable.  I'm realizing that by allowing my happiness to be dependent on my husband's behavior, I am co-dependent. And my co-dependency is making my life unmanagable.  Al-anon uses a phrase about the Three Cs.   You did not cause it, you can not control it and you are not able to cure it.  I was willing to not sleep an entire night just to control my husband's behavior.  But how many nights after that could I sacrifice sleep to be responsible for him? 

I'm learning about boundaries.  There are boundaries I can set up to help us along the way, like putting safegaurds on the computers.  But some boundaries are asking too much of myself. I need to respect my own well being.  I need to find my own peace despite his choices.  I need to relinquish my desperate desire to "fix" him. 

I need to let go, let God.