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?

Our Gift

At long last recovery was taking hold for Pete.  And I felt like a plastic swimming pool on summer day, filling and filling with fears of vulnerability and emotional reconnection.  Wise people told me, “you’ll know it when you see it.”  And I saw it.  And I knew it.  But knowing he was in true recovery didn’t erase the trauma and distrust. 

Okay- he’s doing better, but what now? Can I love him again? Can I connect with him again? Can I ever have sex with him again?

I felt stalled out and stuck.  A few therapy appointments were helping me but the progress felt infinitesimal.  I wanted it, but I couldn’t resist slamming the proverbial door in his face whenever I didn’t get my way. 

Then something came along.  An opportunity for Pete, and me, and our family.  Something we’d talked about and dreamed of in the early days of his career. 

It caught hold.  It took flight. We started talking.  We were excited.  Ideas, dreams, hopes, feelings began to pour out of me.  And he ate it up. He listened, and like he always has, worked and made phone calls and sent emails to execute my wildest ambitions. 

We researched, we laughed, we exchanged giddy texts and eager phone calls. 

My faith still lacks the gumption to notice God’s hand in my life on a consistent basis.  But for once I see that he has undoubtedly given us this gift. 

It is a gift.  It has been the ice breaker of all ice breakers.  It has destroyed the awkwardness and hesitancy that held me captive.  It has reignited a shared goal inside us that has brought us together again.  It has given us pillow talk and passion.  My fervor and longing for this opportunity has trumped my pride and stubbornness.  We couldn’t do this if our marriage was rocky.  We couldn’t do this if Pete wasn’t in recovery.  We couldn’t do this if I couldn’t decide that I was committed to him.  As much as I wanted it, I wasn’t blind to those facts. 

As the holidays upon us I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for this life-changing gift.  A healing balm for my wounded marriage.  After Pete and I had done all we could do, after we put forth our efforts and reached out for help, we needed something more. 

And God gave.  

Happy New Year everyone.  Cheers to a 2014 that brings us all a little more peace and emotional safety. 

Disclaimer about Disclaimers

Credit

Disclaimer- I'm writing a post without disclaimers.

I am the queen of disclaimers. I use them all the time to quantify things, to put a lid on something, to excuse myself.  Aren't we always putting a caveat on our good news?

"Things are going well.  I'm sure tomorrow will be back to hell. But today I'm doing better."

Well I want to write something without any qualifiers.  Hopefully you know I live in reality too. But for now I'm going to relish this.

I'm doing well.  I am feeling genuine, deep, happiness.  I am reconnecting with my husband. I am feeling gratitude for his changes.  I am noticing things about him that are appealing, and even safe.  I am hopeful.  I am experimenting with vulnerability. I am opening doors to my heart. I am sharing feelings.  I am swallowing my pride.  I am forgiving. I am loving.  I am being affectionate.  I am hugging and holding.  I am feeling really good. 

One of the things that Pete has really resented was a fear that I no longer admired him.  It was a little egotistical, but genuine too.  He knew in the past I admired him, he is so hurt when he thinks I no longer do. 

But now, I have moments where I see admirable things in him.

Something is coming alive again in our relationship.

It feels really good.

Progress Not Perfection And those Damn Meetings!

The Sobriety Chip

Pete just finished his second 90 in 90.  That makes 180 meetings in 180 days.  During round one he had trouble maintaining sobriety.  He was dealing with my emotional withdrawal, he hadn’t found a good therapist, and he was probably overwhelmed by the SA program.  He did a lot of phone meetings, and I could tell that many times he was just going through the motions.  When he started seeing his new therapist (sex addiction specialist) they put together a recovery plan, which included the second 90 in 90.   I had mixed feelings, our emotional distance made it so that I wasn’t exactly missing his company while he was at meetings, and I felt strong and independent taking care of everything on my own.  (Can you say martyr?)  But that was getting old.  He was stretched to his limits with his work and church responsibilities and a meeting every day which left me a little worn out with parenting.

But the second round was different.  He had good relationships with his SA friends. He loved the meetings. I don’t think he ever did a phone meeting, they were all actual butt-in-seat meetings. Sometimes he would miss one, so he would do two in one day, or do a fellowship.  (Or in the case of the SA retreat, like 6-8 meetings a day for two days.) 

The weekend of Thanksgiving he went four days without a meeting.  On Sunday night we were talking about it and he said

“I can’t do that. I can’t go four days without a meeting yet.” 

“But you didn’t act out, did you?” I asked.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point.”

I wish he could write this post and explain it better than I can.  But it was a big moment for me.  A trust building moment.  Something to the effect of this.  (These are MY words to his message.)

“Acting out starts long before I open the browser or pull my pants down.  It starts when I get mad at the guy who cut me off on my way to work.  It starts when I’m stressed out and I mistreat a coworker.  It starts when I snap at the kids.  It starts when I lay in bed in the mornings long after I should.  It starts when I’m bored, hurt or restless.  I need meetings to keep me accountable for all those things.  I need to own them and surrender them.  I need to ‘get current’ with my guys.  I need to be honest and I need to reach out. “

Now that Pete’s 90 in 90 is over he’s had to make a long-term plan for meetings.  I have moments where I resent recovery meetings.  They are so much time.  This isn’t the life I planned at all.  Combined with meetings, appointments with his therapist and time spent reading recovery materials; sometimes this feels like a part-time job.  That he’s not getting paid for.  That if he had done the right thing in the first place he would never need to have. 

But the reward is that I’m living with a guy who rarely gets mad at the guy who cuts him off on the road.  Or who tries really hard not to snap at the kids, and apologizes when he does.  A guy who is learning not to take responsibility for my bad days, but offer me compassion. 

************** 

I was reading back over my blog and realized that it’s been three years since Pete and I used the word addiction.  First he got a therapist.  Then he reached out to his dad.  Two years ago he started attending 12-step meetings.  Then he quit going to his therapist.  And he quit going to his meetings.  In January of 2013 I packed the kids and left town in the middle of a snow storm because I’d had it.  I thought that would be rock bottom but it got worse.  2013 has been the unluckiest of years.  I’ll never forget it, and I’ll probably hate it for a long time.  I’m so ready to be done with it.  But it has been a year of change, and I feel so much new hope going into 2014.  Sex addiction sucks.  It feels so consuming and devastating and hopeless.  Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse it would.  And just when I think I’m doing better I melt down again.

But I don't need to let tomorrow's despair ruin today's happiness. And I don't have to let today's despair destroy my hope for tomorrow's happiness.

Lying to Myself

Honesty is such a big deal in this whole mess of pornography addiction.  But for a really long time all "honesty" meant to me was that my husband was giving an accurate reporting of the facts.  That was honesty. 

As I have ventured into the realms of recovery, and dug up a little self-awareness,  I've realized that honesty is more than just an accurate reporting of facts.  Someone at group meeting once sharing some research she'd heard of about how many times a day we lie to ourselves.  It was some ridiculous amount and I tried to Google it just now, but instead found this insightful quote.

"Often we lie to ourselves in order to preserve the face or self-image we want to maintain. We block out face-threatening messages, especially when they require backing down or changing our original position. Fear of embarrassment motivates many not to face reality, where we don't want to admit we goofed up, were selfish jerks, or lacked self-control. In short, we lie to ourselves to avoid an ugly truth. In confirmation, defense-mechanism researchers ... point out, self-deception is a mental process that operates unconsciously to reduce painful emotions."

At a therapy appointment recently I was talking about how I had made a decision (after thoughtful consideration and prayerful diligence) to share my story - and therefore indirectly Pete's story- with a family member.  I told my therapist that before I decided it was the right thing to do I had carefully considered the fall-out.  I convinced myself I would be okay (LIE) with whatever consequences came from my choice, but I really needed to do it. 

Unfortunately, after I shared with the family member, I found myself on my therapist's couch pouring out my heart about how UNFAIR the consequences of my choice were.  The most difficult consequence being Pete's absolute conviction that what I had done was wrong. 

"I HAVE to make him agree with me about this." I sobbed.  "We need to be united about it." I whined. 

Gently he said to me

"But you said you were going to be okay with the fall-out of your choice." 

"Well yeah."

Bracing himself for a fight, he responded

"But it kinda seems like you're not."

I started laughing. 

"You totally just called me out?! So does this mean that I was wrong to do what I did because I am NOT in fact properly coping with the outcome?"

"No." He said. "Not at all.  It just means you weren't honest with yourself." 

In other words- if I had been totally honest with myself I could have said "This is going to be hard. It is going to be really painful to do something my husband doesn't agree with.  We might never reconcile about this issue. I might need to see my therapist to help me cope with the fall-out of this choice.  But it's the right thing to do.  So I'll do it, knowing full well that I'm not as strong as I wish I was, and owning the consequences of my choice." 

The truth is- self-awareness and personal honesty DO subject me to painful emotions.  It's hard to acknowledge that I'm not what I want to be or where I want to be.  But painful emotions are no longer the enemy.  Self-deception is the enemy.  Believing I am right, when I am wrong.  Refusing to acknowledge my own inadequacy to protect an image.  Deliberately ignoring relationships with people who know about my character defects.  All of those things prevent me from really healing. 

Because there is nothing wrong with being imperfect.  There is nothing to be ashamed of about making a mistake. There is freedom in accepting that I don't always have to be right.  What pressure I've put on myself! I've found it both painful and liberating to get out from beneath the lies I tell myself.

Because...

You Don't Need No Man

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My Dear Friend-

I'm going to go out on a limb here and share my story in the hope that it will be helpful to you.  As I always like to say- take what you want and leave the rest.

I want to challenge you on something.  I want to question your statement that you "need" your husband to offer daily manifestations of his love, help you around the house, and be a leader for your children.  Those things are all keys to a healthy marriage and a successful family life, but I know you, and I know you are strong, and I think right now that you can find peace and happiness without them.

I used to be a sponge for Pete's love, desperately seeking approval and validation from him, longing for his attention.  Eventually his addiction became so unmanageable that he was incapable of offering me those things.  In fact, he usually did the opposite.  Made me doubt myself, left me emotionally alone, withheld his love. 

As long as I continued to expect Pete to meet my needs, I felt disappointed and angry.  I was oozing with resentment toward him.  He failed and failed over and over and it was making me miserable.  Eventually I had to let him go. I had to find happiness and personal worth outside of my relationship with him.  I didn't say so to him, but maybe I could have said something like this.

"I'm relinquishing you from the obligations I've imposed upon you to make me happy.  To fill my cup.  To meet my needs.  I'm letting you go.  For the time being I'm determined to be dependent on myself for those things.  I have good people to love and support me.  I have children to fill my cup.  I don't NEED you right now.  You are free to find recovery, or not. But I'm going to let you off the hook.  For now.  I'm willing to let our marriage fall apart for awhile, with the hope that it will give you the space you need to join me in fixing it down the road." 

It's just a kill your own damn buffalo concept.  If you want to have family prayer, initate it.  If the garbage is full, take it out. 

I know it sounds so fiery feminist, maybe because it is,  but

YOU DON'T NEED NO MAN.

When I did this at first I was just being a martyr.  I was vindictive, and determined to guilt him into change. "I hope he feels like crap when he sees that I mowed the lawn" - type feelings.  But eventually it became an empowering and liberating way to live.  I DON'T need no man. 

I know that in the big picture husband and wife are one.  It's a relationship that enhances our joy.  But that wasn't/isn't the reality I'm living in. 

I love you friend- I know you are strong and you can find the emotional place you are searching for even if your husband never becomes the man he can become. 

Happy Thanksgiving

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My family has a tradition on Thanksgiving where everyone writes down a few things they are grateful for and puts them in a glass pumpkin.  After the feast, we pass the pumpkin around and take turns reading them, and then guessing who wrote them.

This year as a joke Pete and I started listing the things we were grateful for that wouldn't be appropriate for the glass pumpkin.  I'll give you the pleasure of guessing which of us said them.

- I'm grateful for the long lasting friendships I've made with sex addicts this year.

- I'm grateful for good therapy.

- I'm grateful that I went to over 200 12-step meetings this year.

- I'm grateful that two of my dearest friends saw their excommunicated husbands rebaptized.

- I'm grateful my husband found people to share his intimate feelings with, when I was incapable of hearing them.

- I'm grateful I can say masturbate without throwing up in my mouth.

- I'm grateful for 83 days of sobriety.

- I'm grateful for spending weekends with strangers and burning lingerie.

********

I know the holidays can be really difficult so I'm shooting rays of love-beams out my virtual fingertips for you.  Breaking routine is often a big trigger for Pete, which means a history of relapses around the holidays.  And of course family...

I hope your Thanksgiving brings you some level of gratitude and joy.

-Jane-

Knowledge is Power

LifeStar of Lehi asked me to write a guest post for a series they are doing called "Tips From Women in Recovery."

Trying to offer hope to someone beginning their journey in recovery is a difficult task in 500 words or less.  But you can read my contribution here or here. 

Read through the series too- lots of good stuff in there. 

Wreckage

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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.

In The Meantime

Gosh- how often I've mourned the lost time that has been dedicated to recovery.  My so-called recovery has ebbed and flowed, and ebbed to the point of obsession at times.  I'm starting to feel a longing to resume old interests, pursue new ones, and try to use my recovery time more efficiently.  But for anyone who has felt like pornography addiction, or another tragedy, or even just life, has gotten in the way of their dreams, this [cheesy mommy] song is for you.

But today, it is ESPECIALLY for my friend Alicia, because there have been moments when I have been that aching heart that only she could lift. 

Alicia- Heaven hears the joy of every victory in your life, and heaven hears your heart before you cry.  And girl- I KNOW you are being sanctified.




Thank you to all my other friends who have been a friend. And for each of you- don't doubt your place, or your ability to be a gift and blessing in someone else's life. 

Hang in there peeps.