Checking In

A few recent events have brought me back to this space, to write about how I’m feeling and how I’m trying to live.  I’ve had some thoughts swirling in my brain lately, after we made a big move back to the United States, spent two months in transition, and Pete acted out again after a really wonderful six months of sobriety.  I’m feeling compassion for him, transitions are so hard, losing his support system and dealing with the stresses of his work life, while trying to get our family settled, is bound to take its toll.  But I’m also feeling disappointed, frustrated and anxious about it all. 

It’s much easier to live in emotional and mental health when Pete is doing the same.  When we both take care of our stuff our relationship thrives, and it is so fulfilling.  But when one of us starts to lose our grip, it’s hard for the other one to hold steady.  And this morning something clicked in my brain.  To my friend[s] who have tried to explain this to me and I wasn’t understanding, I apologize, because I think I’m catching on.

I thought that recovering from co-dependency meant that my happiness would not be dependent on other people’s behavior.  Today, that seems like an impossible, and even not desirable goal.  When I’m emotionally connected to someone I love, there are going to be things they say or do that cause me to feel sadness.  Sadness is not happiness.  I used to believe that detachment meant, severing the emotional connection so that I DIDN’T feel sad when they said or did hurtful things. 

The word serenity, that I hear so often in recovery, is all of the sudden much more meaningful to me.  It’s not my happiness I need to protect, I’ve mentioned before that I don’t personally believe happiness should be the object of my existence. I understand how beneficial other feelings can be to my human experience.  It’s my serenity I want to protect. My peace. My contentment. My ability to not go to my crazy place during the midst of my sadness, disappointment, hurt and even fear. 

So what was working for me during the last six months? Well for starters Pete’s sobriety and his serenity were working for me. (Tongue and cheek, insert squinty-eye-emoji.)  But my number one tool for feeling my own peace is acceptance.  And I could probably write an entire post just about acceptance, and my evolution from hating that word to embracing it.  I’m trying each day to get present in my reality, and then make the most of it.  

While I sit in this sadness, and accept the hurt that inevitably comes from being emotionally connected to people, I’m hoping I can stay connected to God, practice gratitude and keep some serenity. 

  

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.  

Discovering Needs and Closing Gaps Part I

This post is hopelessly long and disconnected.  Sorry.

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

Credit

I’ve seen and heard a lot about “needs” and “non-negotiables.” I never made a list of my own.  I think it might have been out of fear. What if I write out a list of my needs, and then they aren’t met? What if my list gets trampled on or ignored?  What are my options then? Divorce or insanity?

And I’ve always been a firm believer that it really takes very little to make a soul free and content. 

On Tuesday I opened up to my older brother, who is the most compassionate and gentle member of my family. I’ve wanted to share with him for years and haven’t, at Pete’s request.  When I told Pete, he was upset.  I could see conflict in his furrowed brow as anger, shame and pain overcame him.  He muttered a couple weak remarks and I did my best to listen with empathy. 

The next day he acted out. He fell apart. He isolated and stewed and it caught up to him.  But by some miracle when he confessed to me on Thursday morning about his relapse I was moved with compassion and love for him, and I was able to hear his confession without personalization or grief. 

I thought about that quite a bit, about the space between how I used to respond and how I responded this time.  Somehow, somewhere, some way, I closed that gap. I changed.  I don’t know when exactly it happened or what exactly changed me. But I’m different.

I met with my new therapist that day. He is a CSAT.  (Get one!)  We talked about how it was OKAY that I had shared with my brother.  I needed to do what I needed to do to heal.  And my healing was in the best interest of my recovery, Pete’s recovery and the recovery of our marriage.  He told me to stand up for myself. He told me that when I learned to have confidence in MY needs, I wouldn’t be manipulated by Pete or anyone else.  He asked me to email him a list of my needs. I couldn’t get my head around that.  What do I need to live? Water. Food.  Sleep.  He clarified for me, and suggested that I write what I need for my recovery. 

Ahh yes.  Okay.  I need to be real with people I trust. 

That night Pete and I went to the mattresses about my need to be vulnerable and open with safe people.  I need to share my reality with people who will love and support me.   When he started to throw out words like “inappropriate” I collapsed into an old me.  That me that triggers when he sends any blame my direction. And I was angry.  Why can’t I stand up for myself?

My dear Scabs sent me this message the next day as I was trying to process. 

“[Pete] has been living pretty comfortably as a recovering addict.  He goes to meetings, connects with his guys, connects with you and the kids, and he has you pretty much living and responding to his addiction the way he feels most comfortable.  It seems like its only when you step outside of his prescribed boundary that he freaks out---out of his comfort zone and acts out.  Maybe this is an indication that he has controlled the situation more than you realize. “

She nailed it.  And as I thought about that it made me more angry.  He HAS controlled me in this. He HAS manipulated me in this.  My closest WOPA friends know that this has been a struggle from the get-go for me.  Maybe they remember that first weekend we met when I sobbed about how desperately I needed to open up and Pete had me on a leash.

I was so angry on Friday that I have done so much work to leave Pete and his addiction and his recovery to him, I don’t question or judge or criticize his life anymore.  Which is another gap I’ve closed from how I used to be and where I am.  His addiction AND recovery obviously come at a personal cost to me, I make personal sacrifices.  I’m not saying this to make myself look good, I just realized this week that I really wanted that same respect from him.  If I am capable of doing it, he should be too. 

And tell me, WHY was I able to hear him tell me that he had looked at porn and masturbated without flinching but the minute he tells me how I should or shouldn’t reach out to people, I fall to pieces?

Oh The Places You'll Go!

I think one of the most popular graduation gifts has to be that Dr. Seuss book, Oh the Places You'll Go.  I wish someone would have given me a book when I got married, or when I discovered I was married to a porn addict about the places I would go.

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Dark Places!
You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own.  And you know what you know.
And YOU are the girl who'll decide where to go.

You'll look up and down streets.  Look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you'll learn when you go down a not-so-good street.

And when things start to happen,
don't worry.  Don't stew.
Just go right along.
You'll start happening too.
You won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed.
You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you'll be the best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don't
Because, sometimes, you won't.

I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...

I'm afraid that some times
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.

All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.

On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.

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

What places have I been? I've been in the place of denial. Where I was sure what had just happened would never happen again. Relapse wasn't in my vocabulary because neither was addiction.

And I've been in a place where I sobbed and suffered.  Where I feared relapse with fervent dread.  A place where I was quite sure another relapse would be the end of my marriage or the end of my sanity.

Then I went to a place where I didn't care about relapse. He could act out today or tomorrow and I didn't care. He could never act out again or act out in two years and it made no difference to me. I was my own woman, free from any attachment to him.

And now I find myself in a new place. A place my friend told me about and invited me to. Dealing with relapses with new emotions.  A degree of acceptance.  Not of his behavior, but of him and his diligent and sincere efforts.

I've heard stories of men who were ripe and ready for recovery.  They drank it up with willing thirst.  They applied it to their lives and they have been sober ever since.  This is not my husband.  Over the years he has resisted recovery and stubbornly refused to apply it's principles to his life.  Until he couldn't resist anymore and he collapsed into the arms of SA.  But his demons seem to be stubborn and resistant too.  His road is different and his places elsewhere.

I'm okay with my place. And I'm okay with the places I've been through to get to my place. I don't discredit anyone else's place either, even if it's a place I never visit.

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

 And IF you go in, should you turn left or right...
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.
Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

LIAR!!

Credit

A few months ago, when Pete wasn't talking to me about his recovery because I had emotionally withdrawn, I wondered about his sobriety.  A friend told me how to check a google search history.  At first, the search history wasn't on, so I turned it on.  I checked it every day for a few days, and it always came up clean.  This gave me some peace of mind (obviously it's not fool proof) but Pete had also agreed to tell me when he broke sobriety. So I went with it. 

After his confession on Monday I kind of had that annoying nagging feeling. During his confession I specifically asked if this was the only "episode." He reassured me that it was a one-time deal. A blip. A slip.  

Yesterday I had the idea to check his google history. I hadn't done this in a long time.  But I decided to do it.  I'm not a fan of snooping if it's done out of codependency.  I had never needed to snoop before. He always confessed.  But I went ahead and pulled it up.  I looked over it.  It didn't match what he had told me. There were other searches.  A lot of them, on two different days besides the day he had confessed about.  I tried to work it out logistically in my head but it didn't make sense.  My heart started to race.  I started to sweat.  I called him.  He admitted to it. 

My trauma went to a couple new levels yesterday.  

1. I've never caught Pete before. (Except one time I read a text conversation with his dad.) I've never seen searches or images.  I've never had that nauseating feeling when you read the words your husband typed into the Google box. The names of the women who are the objects of his fantasies.  I could not stop sweating. 

2. Pete has always been honest.  Or I thought he had always been honest.  Except that one time, when he wasn't.  And now I feel so ridiculous saying it. I've told everyone else that there is always more than what the addict is admitting to.  But I'm the exception.  Addicts are liars.  But Pete is the exception.  Yeah, Pete has been mostly honest.  But once there are lies, how do you EVER know what's a lie and what isn't?  Trust is so fragile.  So easily and quickly destroyed.  And such a painful, excruciating reality check.  

I hate those old feelings of being a fool, being deceived, duped, manipulated.  I HATE those feelings.  I want to scream and throw up and run until my lungs are on fire.  I want to punch pillows and break plates. I want to curl up and sob. I want a hug that never ends, from a friend.  I want to be manic and active, and the next minute I want to be lazy and lethargic.  

I thought I was at the beginning of the end. I thought this was going a new direction.  I thought my posts on this blog were winding down. 

But he is still sick. 

Eventually I won't be angry at him for that.  Eventually I'll find acceptance.  But today it hurts.  

There have been times in years past when I worried that if he got better, what would I do with myself? This was my new identity.  But I have long since relinquished that identity. I REALLY wanted it to be over this time.  I was REALLY ready to move on to our new life.  Of course I knew it would always be there. But I have friends whose husbands have a year or two sobriety.  Why can't I have that? Why does it elude him, and me? 

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**After I wrote this I went back to link to the post I wrote about the last time I discovered that Pete had lied to me.  It makes me wonder why we ever trust at all?

Stream of Consciousness

Pete had a slip/relapse/acted out/messed up... whatever you want to call it.  I hate all those words.

I want to write about it- but don't really know what to say, or have time to refine anything or make it logical and analytic. (My specialty.)

So I'm just going to write.  I think it will be good for me.

Pete confessed to me to about his break in sobriety a few days ago. It was a few days after his four month mark, but he hadn't been to a meeting in a few days so he missed his chance to get a four month chip.  Yesterday as I was putting away the laundry I saw all his chips on the bottom of his drawer.  It was really sad for me.  After he confessed he told me that he had an appointment with his therapist that same morning.  He said his therapist had to pull him out of the depths of despair. I felt really grateful that he has a good therapist, and really sad that he was in such despair.

I don't get it. I don't know why this happens.  Why, after months of sobriety, he just gives in and indulges. It seems like there is always so much on the line.  The timing of this is horrible.  It was this time last year, when I lost it.  I packed up the kids and we left for five days.  I couldn't take it. We didn't even celebrate his birthday.  Totally ignored it.  His birthday is this week. And when he texted me telling me that he had "slipped" I felt a little triggered.  Is 2014 going to be just a repeat of 2013? I can't do that. I REALLY can't do that.

But I found myself feeling surprisingly okay with it.  Not "okay" with it, like I don't care or like I don't think it's wrong.  But I didn't cry. I didn't get too angry.  The strongest feeling I have felt in the last couple days is just apathy.  And a little bit of wonder at it all.  Am I being too dramatic? What's the big deal? Why the complicated mess?

I have good friends who have been pointing me in a new direction.  It has always been my M.O. to detach and withdraw.  Get to a safe place where I'm unaffected by his choices.  That has worked for me in the past.  But now, as I sit here, feeling a little unaffected, I think I'm going to try something new.  I think I'm going to try to continue this momentum we have.  I want to keep his companionship, I want to hear and share feelings with him.  I don't want to sever our emotional connection.  The physical connection is still out- sorry I'm not that good.

Anyway- I feel like it's going to be okay.  Everything is not lost. All the feelings and changes I've seen still exist, it just means it's not going to always been smooth sailing.  But I always knew that. Right?

Trouble in Paradise

Credit

Over a year and a half ago, Pete and I were probably sure by May 2013 our troubles would be [nearly?] over.  We planned a trip to Hawaii for our tenth anniversary. 

One month ago, I was feeling hopeful.  Ever since I took off for a weekend in January, things had been rough around here.  I'd executed a major detachment, which may or may not have been a major wake-up call for Pete.  He turned a corner.  SA meetings two or three times a week.  Talk of a sponsor.  Flickers of empathy.  An amorous flame sparked again between us.  Hawaii was going to be our second honeymoon. 

Two days before our vacation Pete had a quick trip out of town for business.  It was overnight, but he would be gone less than 24 hours. 

Cue the foreboding music. 

He called me in the morning.  Crash and burn.  Porn and masturbation. 

I crumpled on my bed and cried it out.  A confession hadn't hurt that bad in a really long time. 

There was so much on the line. 

He was supposed to be getting better.  Couldn't he have just white knuckled it through? Did he really choose porn over me?

And the question that is the demon that haunts my soul.

Why?

I had so much to do that day that I made myself busy and before I knew it we were sitting on a plane together flying over the ocean. 

Hawaii was amazing.  Beaches with sand as fine as flour, exotic fish that dazzled my eyes, papaya and mango for breakfast, hikes in the jungle with real Tarzan vines, girthy Polynesian women whose beauty was only outmatched by their love. 

I told Pete that even under the circumstances there wasn't really anyone I'd be more comfortable traveling with.  I was glad to have him there.  But our vacation in paradise was stricly platonic.  It was romantically and sexually anemic. 

We only talked about "it" once.  I told Pete that this time had hurt worse than usual.  I told him that I had seen so much change and felt so much hope.  He asked if I had assumed he would never act out again.  When I answered I said

"No, I figured there would be slips, but not this soon."

But what I was really thinking was

"Yeah actually.  Isn't that the goal? To quit looking at porn? Someday, won't there be a time when you really don't ever look again?"

I don't really want to get into those questions.  Now that we're back and I have to face real life I feel overwhelmed with those and even more confusing ideas.  What now? More detachment? New boundaries? Is progress real? What is recovery? What am I doing right? Wrong?

I tried out body boarding and loved it.  When I'd catch a wave just right I'd glide across the sand until the water was gone from beneath me. I'd keep my eyes on the beach, seeing if I'd come father this time than I had the last time.  I would get cocky with my wave-riding skillzzzz. 

But then, if I let myself forget the ocean was behind me, I'd wait a second too long and BAM the outgoing tide and the next incoming wave would knock me to my knees. 

Friends, I swear I will never figure this out. I just want to say here that addiction suuuuuucks.

The Cycle

Credit

Ordinary Time:

In the Catholic church there are two seperate periods of time made up of several weeks, that in fact constitute the majority of the year.  These periods are called "Ordinary Time."  They are the weeks in between the celebrated parts of the year. (Easter, Christmas, Passover, Lent, etc.)  They are seasons of neither feasting or penance. 

The largest part of Pete's (and mine by association) addictive cycle is ordinary time.  It is chaotic dinners with our young brood, Friday night dates with sushi or mexican.  Our ordinary time is full of conversations about how to handle our six year old wetting the bed or if its time to buy a new minivan.  We work together on mediocre landscaping and refinishing furniture.  We laugh and watch Neftlix with bowls of popcorn.  We have sex and I talk to him late into the night until he can't keep his eyes open. 

Scott P. Richert says

"Many people think Ordinary Time refers to the parts of the Church year that are unimportant. But nothing could be further from the truth."

So goes our ordinary time.  It is the brick and mortar of our marriage. 

PRT- Pre-relapse Tension:

Another, less used, term for PMS is Premenstrual tension. We are all familiar with the atmosphere of PMS. 

"Say or do the wrong thing and I'll bite your head off." 

Ordinary time evolves into PRT time for Pete.  It's walking on egg-shells and general grumpiness.  It's during this time that Pete and I have that same bloody conversation that has become a fixture in the cycle.  Pete used to get really angry during this time.  But he's made progress, and even though the same elements are there (blame, victimization, minimizing), he rarely raises his voice at me. 

I thought this quote about PMS was appropriate.

"PMS is better thought of as an aggressive messaging service, our body’s way of trying get our attention to make changes and get rid of things that don't sustain or suit us anymore."       

(Yes. I just compared my husband's addictive behavior to PMS.)

It's during this time that I find myself thinking

"Oh just do it already.  Just get your fix so we can move on to the good phase."

Fixing:

I don't mean fixing like repairing, I mean "fix"-ing like indulging in an amount or dose of something craved.  It's a made-up verb for a slang definition of the noun "fix." (That was a waste of your time. I should have just called this phase "Relapse.")

Call it whatever you want.  Slipping, acting out, lost battles, lust-fest, binge, all of the above. 
This phase isn't pretty either.  Pete is discouraged, irritable, anxious, physically distressed.  It's ugly.

Then, like how Scabs describes eating all the crap you want the night before a diet, so the next morning you feel so sick you are motivated to start fresh, he hits bottom. 


Honeymoon:

This is the good phase.  Or at least it used to be.  Now I'm jaded, and rather than being genuinely grateful for this period, I exploit it, and turn Pete into my humble and subservient slave. 

Let me be clear that Pete is not violent toward me. But my counselor pointed out that he lives out the Honeymoon phase similarly to the way an abuser does. 

During this time Pete is extra helpful around the house, remorseful and kind, patient with the kids.  He does dishes and changes diapers with enthusiasm.  He attends group meetings, works recovery steps, visits with the bishop and reaches out. 

According to the cycle of violence, the honeymoon is an opportunity to compensate for the misbehavior.  But Pete explained it to me differently.  He says during all the other phases, he feels emotions building up, but does not cope with them appropriately.  Acting out with pornography and masturbation is his way of releasing, purging and medicating his feelings.  Totally unhealthy and inappropriate? Yes.  But it does get him to a place where there are no more bottled up resentments or festering frustrations.  It makes him emotionally capable of being compassionate and unselfish, where he isn't capable of being during the previous two (three?) phases. 

But, this story is no mystery.  Ordinary time ensues.  And then tension.  And then more medicating.  'Round and 'round.  Each phase can last anywhere from a few days to a few weeks.  It is totally unpredictable it its consistency.  It makes me crazy. 

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.

Deception

I have some fear and trepidation in writing today because first of all,  I know Pete will read this and I also know I have no control over how he reacts.

And secondly, I am angry.  And if you know me you know that I know better than to hang on to anger.  And I won't, I will let it go.  But today I'm giving myself a day to just feel it.  And write about it.

The holidays had their moments, but Pete went back to work and I had made some decisions and was feeling pretty good.  I was actually feeling close to Pete, and after I had set a new boundary (in my mind) I was feeling liberated and relaxed about everything. 

On Friday Pete acted out, but didn't tell me.  He usually tells me right away, or at least the first time we talk in person.  The entire weekend went by and he didn't mention it.  He did give one of our children a blessing on Sunday, but I'm not going to even venture into the realm of worthiness.  That's his business. 

On Sunday night, thinking everything was hunky-dory I decided to tell Pete about my new boundary.  I will write about that later, but he responded remarkably well.  We didn't talk long, but he had ample opportunity to share his indiscretion, and he didn't.  I felt so peaceful, so hopeful, so optimistic. 

Finally last night he confessed.  And now I'm mad.  I'm mad for three reasons.

1.  It sucks that he keeps acting out.  It sucks that my husband looks at porn.  It sucks.

2.  I hate that I didn't see it coming.  I hate that I missed the signs and I feel stupid for being deceived.

I can usually read Pete pretty well when he acts out.  He wears it on his sleeve.  Which means that when he isn't telling me that he has acted out, and when I'm not sensing it from him, on some level he is making deliberate efforts to hide it, changing his behavior to be deceptive.  And while he hasn't technically "lied" because I never asked if he was sober, he was being dishonest.  Allowing someone to believe something that isn't the truth is dishonest.  It doesn't foster trust, it encourages suspicion. 

It is awful to be deceived, but tolerable when you can see right through your spouse's efforts to mislead you.  What is worse, is being made the fool.  When you bite.  When you buy into all his false mannerisms and artificial contentment.  Then you find out that you were clueless.

I know this only lasted a few days, but I am still hurt and angry when I imagine myself sitting on our bed on Sunday, eating up his every word about how he wants a better relationship for us than this whole addict mess. 

3.  Pete never says the words anymore, but I can read it in his face when he's thinking

"You are over-reacting."
"This is not that big of a deal."

And that is what hurts worst of all.  It IS a big deal.  Period.  I shouldn't have to justify my reactions, and I'm learning not to.  They are mine to feel and manage, and I'm grateful for each of you for understanding.  Because I KNOW you do. 

Be Careful What You Wish For





Credit

If I give you nothing else on this blog, I at least give you honesty.  Even though it is an anonymous blog, I still feel embarrassed about some of the things I share here.  And for some who I've actually met, it's not anonymous anymore.  I'm so grateful to be a person, a friend to some of you, but it makes it more difficult to air my dirty laundry. 

On that note I need to make another confession.

The last three months or so have gone really well for Pete.  Each period of sobriety has brought us increased understanding and I've watched him discover new ways to LIVE with more happiness, more patience and involvement with our kids, a more compassionate and generous heart, and more kindness toward me and others.  Apologies, when necessary, come sooner, and opportunities to serve haven't been taken for granted.  It's been nice.

I have even allowed myself to wonder if this was it, if this was his breakthrough.  I knew that moments of temptation would come, and sure enough they did.  Last week while traveling he had a rough night, full of the chaos that I talked about before.  But he pulled through.  He recognized that the addiction is still making his life unmanagable but somehow he didn't get give in. 

This experience gave me new hope. I started to believe that it was possible for him to refrain, that he is capable, and willing.  It made me think that things could be different from here on out.

And then I started to wonder what that meant for me.  I've gained such an identity on this blog and in this community.  If Pete overomes this ugly beast, will I lose my place here?  I know that none of us really want to be in the WoPA club, but now that I've found a niche here, I was worried about losing my spot.   What if I can't blog anymore because I have nothing left to say?  What if I become an outsider?

My insecurities were clearly getting the best of me.  My desperate need to feel important was making me crazy and irrational!

On Monday Pete was out of town again. I called him while I was at Walmart because I knew he'd be heading home soon.  He told me that he'd lost a battle in his hotel room.  Our conversation was brief, we were both struggling with our emotions and we were both still in public places.  As I stood there in the aisle, alone and hurt, my first thoughts were about all the things I just confessed.  And then this

"Stupid stupid stupid.  To wish for another relapse, just to keep me involved in this WoPA world was so stupid.  This hurts.  I hate it."

I'm doing pretty well in spite of our setbacks.  I see so much progress in myself.  But I don't want pornography in my life forever.  I just don't.  And I feel the same way for each of you.  I don't really want anyone to need this blog, including me.  It's just another lesson to me that my worth has to be so internalized that I can feel true joy in life's most exciting moments, that my validation comes from within, and not from the ways I can manipulate adversity.  

So I'm crossing that lesson off the list.  How many more lessons are there before this is all said and done?  What yet must I learn?

I Haven't Forgotten You

Dear Anonymous-
I read your comment and my heart went out to you.

How many triggers can there be out there?... a reminder of a moment of past trauma sneaks up and surprises you with a dose of emotion. Completely overwhelmed, and usually including unexpected crying. Each trigger is a new journey to crawl out of the emotional pit of pain. How long do the triggers last?

I can relate, especially to the unexpected crying.  I've been thinking a lot about what I can say, and I consulted with April/Scabs.  We talked and I'll share my thoughts (which might also be her thoughts.)

Regarding triggers, I know there is scientific evidence that they are subconscious, that we have no control over them.  And I believe this is true.  But we do have control in our response to them, and I also believe that as we learn to cope with our response the triggers lose their power. 

April pointed out to me that very often, triggers are lies, lies that act as fuel for our negative emotions.  They are feelings of hopelessness, lack of control, despair and hurt.  But we know there IS hope, we DO have control over our emotions and we CAN heal from despair and hurt. 

I think triggers are also based in fear.  We are afraid of what it will feel like when we are reminded of the indescretion of our husband.  We are afraid of what it will feel like when he relapses.  We are afraid of relinquishing our feelings of resentment, lest we forgive too quickly or lose our self-imagined influence. 

Why can't I put all this away? He's been clean for a few months. He thinks he will never use again. He says there are no temptations. How many times has this happened and then the cycle begins again? Will the worry about when the next bomb will drop ever release its hold?

It took Pete years, yes YEARS, to realize that a few months without temptation did not mean he was free from the addiction.  Marlee just posted the other day that her husband went 2 1/2 years sober.  I don't say this to discourage you, just to give you knowledge.  I've said it so many times but I'll say it again.  Ignorance is bliss, but knowledge is power.  This does not mean it is your job to convince your husband of this knowledge, let him come to it on his own.  But tuck it away in your aresenal so you can be prepared and accepting of the future.

There is a good chance he will relapse, and YOU WILL BE OKAY.  Ask Mac. 

I believe you CAN put it all away.  I know I don't worry about when the next bomb will drop anymore because I've let go of my fears about how badly that will hurt.  I know I will be disappointed and hurt, but I also know that I don't need to have anxiety about it.  I can cope with disappointment and hurt, I have faith that I will be taken care of by a loving Savior and Heavenly Father.  And I don't mean they will care for me by curing my husband, they will care for me by giving me an endowment of strength and peace during those difficult moments.  

These feelings don't come naturally.  I've had to discover them, nurture them and carefully select the emotions I want to keep around by making a deliberate effort to discard the ones I don't. The negative emotions still come to me.  For me it comes in the form of self-pity.  I fight it daily and sometimes I don't fight at all, I just wallow.  Those days are miserable.  I hate them.  But it is the path of least resistance, and unfortunately, we all know, it is resistance that builds strength.  So I try to resist the lies that creep in, and in doing so build strength against them.

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.

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.

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.