Told Ya So....

It happened just as I expected. Randomly one day, he was normal. And when I asked why he was suddenly being nice to me again, he said I'd been so crabby lately but today I looked more approachable. He talked about how I'd been rude to him and ignoring him....how I had been a jerk and how he was giving me my space until I was over my mood.

And when I reminded him of how we had talked and he had said things like "no I don't feel like being around you right now and I have a right to feel that way!" Or how he had literally and physically pushed me away...he didn't remember any of it. He said things like "really? I don't remember that!" Or "its too bad that his mutual misunderstanding made us both so upset." 

And suddenly, it was all my fault...and I don't want to fight...so I smile and nod and just hope it all goes away. 

But the thing is....I still feel this distance. I feel like I'm walking on egg shells and that the slightest thing will set him off. So I work hard at making dinners and smiling and offering to do things for him...to help him and to not ask anything of him...

And for a few days...it's worked...it's been alright. 

...until I made a mistake. And I asked something of him. And it seems like such a small thing....and there he is sitting on the couch playing video games but he  "never has enough time for the art that he actually wants to do so why should he do crappy art that he doesn't want to do." And I'm like....really? I'm sorry! You could just say no. I'd rather you say no than for you to get all pissed off and say yes and then lecture me for 20 minutes about why you have to say yes but you want to say no. 

And all I can think is how I never ask anything of him. I don't even ask him to put away his own clean laundry. I don't ask him to do dishes or to make dinner or to take the trash out. I don't even ask him to put sheets on the bed. He takes care of his garden, he waters the lawn, and on Saturdays, he mows it. He bikes to work and bikes home, plays video games and eats dinner and sometimes watches a movie. And yet I feel him judging me when I sit. I hear the snide tone in his voice when he asks if I washed any clothes that day. 

And I become bitter when he tells me what I should be doing and how he will support me in doing it because I know he's lying. I'm not firing the babysitter because I know that regardless of what he says, he will never be home in time to watch the kids. I know that I can't take that last class to get my degree because he will never help out enough so that I have time to do the homework. Maybe he doesn't know it...but I know from my experience that his words and his promises are hollow. 

I suppose that this is the crutch of addiction....he is so deep in it that he doesn't know which way is up. He's so absorbed it in that he can't be absorbed in anything else. 

Man cannot serve two masters. Else he will love the one and despise the other. I feel like when he's trying...he's trying....but he's trying not to hate me. And he can't really love me until he stops loving his addiction.

Until then...I'll be walking on egg shells. 

Meditating on My Nightmares

I live my life basically jumping from one distraction to another. I listen to talk radio or books on tape when I do the dishes. I watch Netflix while I do laundry and sew. I talk on the phone while I clean. Even in the bathroom, I read a magazine or do crossword puzzles. And when I finally have down time....time to sit still and watch a movie or TV, I can't sit still and just watch....because doing only one thing at a time doesn't fully occupy my mind. I have to play a game on my phone or crochet or *something*...ANYTHING!! Just to keep each free resource in my brain busy so that nothing has a chance to wander....nothing can give in to the thoughts that threaten my calm and peace of mind. I often feel like I am on the verge of breaking, and the only thing holding me together is my feigned ignorance....a secret game in which everything is fine and the bad things all belong to someone else. 

I don't know how to deal with awful things. I guess that's ironic....because I've probably lived through more bad things than most people. But maybe that's the point....I started out as a child learning to ignore the things that I couldn't deal with. Occasionally I would allow my thoughts to wander to the "what ifs"...the realities of my situation...and I couldn't handle it. I would break down and shut down. I couldn't do it. So I would pretend. When bad things happened, it was easier to pretend I was in a play...I would play each part, acting out the scene from their perspective. I still do that, sometimes, when I'm alone in the car....I act out scenes. I cry and yell. And it's easy to walk through the issue that way....pretending it's not real and I'm an actress ad libbing the role.

The thing is...there has always been an out for me. When I was a child, I knew that I would leave that life....that house and those people, that school and that town. I knew that my ultimate goal was merely survival. I didn't need to really deal with anything because I knew I only had to endure it for it to go away of its own accord. 

But with my husband....I don't want my problem to just go away. I want it to be better. I want to solve it. I want him to love me. Desperately....I need him to want me. 

I could tell that he didn't want to be around me. I could tell. And it hurt. So I kept trying. And I kept enduring the rejection. And one morning the alarm went off while he was in the shower....and I felt so sad and hurt and rejected that I just didn't care. I stared at the wall while the phone buzzed and the alarm tone played over and over and over. And the overly dramatic part of me felt like it was a metaphor for what I was living...a buzzing that I just wanted to stop. I didn't understand why he was suddenly punishing me just because he had a relapse. Was he blaming me? Was it my fault, in a way? 

And he came out of the shower and made a joke about the alarm. And then pushed and pushed until I told him how lonely I felt because he had been pushing me away. And he did that thing he always does...he blamed me. He blamed other people. He admitted that my feelings were valid and then he dismissed them and said I was making things up. And then he said that he just doesn't feel like having sex all the time...as if that was the whole point of the matter...as if I were just this horny housewife getting all upset because he didn't feel like it. 

It was rather insulting, if you think of it. 

But I didn't say anything. I never say anything. I let him blame me...like I always do....because I'd rather be blamed and have things better than not. And I can control myself. I can't control him. If something is my fault, I can fix that. I can't fix him.

So I accepted it. And he seemed to accept it, too. Even though it had nothing to do with sex. There are other forms of intimacy. Sex was not the intimacy I craved. But I accepted his summation and his blame and I apologized and resolved to try harder. 

And I did try harder. I started doing my chores at a different time so that I could devout myself to him in the evenings. I made more involved dinners and did extra loads of laundry. I got up at 6am to work so that I could do everything. But still, he ignored me. In the quiet moments of togetherness, he coldly moved to the other side of the couch and pulled out a video game. 

On Saturday, we were each doing something different in the parade. And at the end, our son was performing in a skit to advertise the city play. It wasn't anything huge...but it's something that he is doing, and we should support him!

During the performance, Jonah was standing with his hands on his hips. I went to him and slipped my arm through his, smiling up at him....hoping for that shared moment of parental pride. But he didn't look at me. He shook off my arm and pushed me away, crossing his arms acros his chest. 

And that's when I shut down. Because being rejected is hard. Being repeatedly rejected is hard. But being repeatedly rejected by your spouse is rather unbearable.

I stopped trying. I literally just couldn't try anymore. I can't force him to love me. I can't force him to want to spend time with me. I can't force him to do or be or say anything. But I don't deserve to be hurt like that....I don't deserve to be treated like that...

Sunday afternoon...I was feeling so sad. And so alone. And so hurt and angry. And I was angry with God....just a little...because I'm not totally certain what I do that repels people...I feel like a magnet with the wrong charge....and as I try to get closer to people, they are pushed farther away. I've tried so hard with Jonah. And he's farther away from me than ever. And this morning when he left for work...he looked at me with such disdain....he's angry with me because I shut down. He doesn't understand that I'm not strong enough. I am not strong enough to endure that much rejection with no end in sight. I can't handle his indifference....not to that degree. It's like the shower suddenly went cold and he's angry with me because I stepped out of the water. 

I'm just waiting for the explosion. I know it's coming. I want it and I fear it. It's all I think about. I walk around this house and it's all that I think about. I act out scenarios in my head. I practice speeches...trying to impress on him how much I love him....and that's why it hurts to be shunned by him...that's why it hurts to be so far away from him. I think about it all day...things I can do that will make him happy when he gets home....what he would like for dinner. And nothing is different. I wait for him to reach his hand across the bed....to pull me close to him and to hold me.

He hasn't kissed me on the mouth in 2 weeks. And it aches...my heart aches in sadness and loneliness and pain.

And so, no matter how much I yearn to reach out for him...a defense mechanism inside me engages....and I shut down. I curl up on my side of the bed and I try not to touch him because if my leg touches his and he pulls it away....it's another rejection....and I am not strong enough to survive another rejection. 

I just wonder how many more times he will dutifully kiss me on the cheek and say that he loves me....walking away without looking back....as I stare at him walking out the door....trying not to admit that that was the only time he will touch me that day. 

The biggest problem is that whenever the explosion happens...he's going to do what he always does. He'll admit and then he'll justify and then he'll blame me. And I'll sit through the whole thing....and I'll accept the blame. And I'll just be grateful that he's willing to forgive me....because it's all my fault, right? 

Maybe that's why this is so hard...I wish I thought more of myself. I wish that I could love him without being codependent. I wish that I loved myself a little more so that I could feel validated even when he doesn't love me. I wish that I were a better person so that I wouldn't have to try so hard.

Thoughts like this are painful. And that's why I distract myself. I can't think about this this way. It hurts. It breaks me. It isn't fair. 

"Life is pain, highness. Anyone who tells you differently is selling something."

Dark and Twisty

I'm trying to accept that I don't trust my husband without holding it against him. It's a fine line to balance, and I'm not very good at it. I slip and fall almost constantly. I find myself judging him and even attacking him. I've never felt so conflicted in my life. Love and the survival instinct are at odds, and it is affecting all of my relationships. I've felt myself pull away from my sons and I'm dredging up anger toward my mother. I feel dark and distant from the world. And I'm okay with it....but I have this nagging intellectual intuition that even if I feel okay...even if it's what I want....to be sheltered and safe and isolated....it's probably not what's best. There's probably something better.

At the very end of Grey's Anatomy, Amelia says, "I think I'm falling in love....and I'm afraid that it will destroy me." Derek replies, "it wouldn't be love if it didn't." I think that love has the ability to destroy and to create. In The Sword and the Stone, Merlin says that love is the greatest power in all the world....greater than any magic. Greater than gravity. I think we fear the destructive power of love because standing in the rubble of your own life, you innermost emotions raw and exposed, leaves us completel vulnerable. But we need to tear down walls to build them. We need to be broken in order for Christ to heal us. 

I'm so scared. My deepest darkest self is huddled in a corner. I'm afraid of living with this pain and sin and darkness for the rest of my life. I'm afraid of him getting tired of me asking him to change and him walking away. I'm afraid he will change and realize that he can do better than me...because I'm am scared and prideful and stubborn and foolish. I'm afraid that he will refuse to move forward....decide it isn't worth the fight...decide I'm not worth it. I'm afraid of what that would mean. I'm afraid of the possibilities. I'm afraid for him and for me and for us. I'm afraid for my children. 

This is the dark and twisty part of me that I try to suppress....that I hide and try to ignore. This is the part of me that I protect with my walls and my isolation....that terrified little part of me....but I need to learn to let it go....expose it...break it...and let Christ heal it....

The opposite of fear is love. Love can destroy me.

Answers

I felt compelled to read my scriptures tonight, although I generally justify skipping scripture study most Sunday nights (we get scripture study all day in church!). And this was what was waiting for me as I opened up to my book mark:

24 And by day have I waxed bold in mighty prayer before him; yea, my voice have I sent up on high; and angels came down and ministered unto me.

25 And upon the wings of his Spirit hath my body been carried away upon exceedingly high mountains. And mine eyes have beheld great things, yea, even too great for man; therefore I was bidden that I should not write them.

26 O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?

27 And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul? Why am I angry because of mine enemy?

28 Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.

29 Do not anger again because of mine enemies. Do not slacken my strength because of mine afflictions.

30 Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.

34 O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh; for I know that cursed is he that putteth his trust in the arm of flesh. Yea, cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm.

35 Yea, I know that God will give liberally to him that asketh. Yea, my God will give me, if I ask not amiss; therefore I will lift up my voice unto thee; yea, I will cry unto thee, my God, the rock of my righteousness. Behold, my voice shall forever ascend up unto thee, my rock and mine everlasting God. Amen.

2 Nephi 4:24-30, 34-35 (emphasis added)

http://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/2-ne/4?lang=eng

The Big Question

Tonight, I asked Jonah if he felt like he is temple worthy. He asked in reply, "what do you mean?" 

I wasn't expecting to have to explain myself. It's a pretty straightforward question, in my opinion. Do you feel worthy to enter God's house and perform ordinances? Yes or no? 

But that's not what I said. I said, "a couple of weeks ago, I asked you to go to the temple with me. You said that you didn't feel like that was a place you could be. You have looked at porn twice since then. Do you feel like you are worthy to go to the temple?"

I didn't mean for it to come off the way it did. I didn't mean to be argumentative or accusatory or vicious. I guess it did come off that way, though, so maybe I don't blame him so much for getting angry and defensive. 

He asked why I was asking this. And I told him that if he isn't temple worthy then he isn't worthy to baptize our son. And his reply was "well, thanks for the heads up."

I apologized and tried to explain myself better. And then he said, "well, I guess whatever is meant to happen will happen."

And for the first time in my life, I wondered if this is the first step toward the end of my marriage.

I love him. But I was promised a temple marriage. I was promised certain things. And those things: trust, fidelity, love, compassion, respect....they are important. I need them. I need a husband who is worthy to officiate in the office of the priesthood to which he is ordained, and I'm not sure how much I'm willing to tolerate. I've never allowed myself to really ask or answer that question.

I love him. But I'm not comfortable with the path down which complacency leads. 

And he sits next to me on the bed....I can feel him seething. I can feel his contempt for me. I know in my heart that at least part of that is anger at himself. But then it manifests in avoidance as he plays a video game and avoids eye contact and refuses to speak. And he yells that I'm the one getting angry...when in truth I'm being defensive and scared. 

I'm trying to start a discussion and I've done it all wrong. And I'm not sure what's snapped in him...but it's affecting his desire to care. And the consequences of not caring could be dire. He could lose his job or sink further into the addiction.

I didn't sign up for this. I was promised a happily ever after. Nothing has turned out the way that it was supposed to. And I'm left alone, again, struggling to pick up the pieces of all of the broken dreams. 

Again and Again and Again

I vaguely remember seeing a movie when I was a kid. I think it was one of those National Lampoon's movies with Chevy Chase. I don't remember anything about the movie except them driving in Europe and ending up stuck in a round-about. Around and around they went, unable to merge over to take one of the exits out, and having no idea which exit to take even if they could get over. 

That's how I feel right now. Like I'm circling the roundabout without the knowledge of where to go or how to get there. I feel stuck. I feel sad. I feel frustrated and angry and annoyed.

Jonah slipped. Again. And this time it scared me in a couple of new ways.

First, I realized that forgiveness and empathy means on a certain level that I've accepted that this is in my marriage. And I'm not sure if I'm ready to say that...I'm not ready to say that I would want to stay married if I knew that this would be a part of my marriage for the next 10 years. I'm not ready to say that I wouldn't stay married if that were the future, either. But I've accepted that this is the risk. 

Second, I've realized that boundaries and rules and helps have done little but to back him into a corner. And the farther back into the corner he goes, the more desperate and depraved his addiction becomes. The first slip was while I was at a church function and he was supposed to be watching the kids. In stead of watching the kids, he was looking at porn. And the second slip was whole I was out of town. He volunteered to stay at a friends house who is aware of his issue. So since he had no access there, he accessed it at work. Moron. I am literally powerless. Even when he asks me to push, even when he willingly submits to the barriers, all it can do is push him further into the depths of addiction. 

And I feel like I'm married to a child because like my kids that whine about being bored, he has an excuse for every suggestion. And he defends himself, although I'm sure he doesn't mean to. And he clings to it, though he won't acknowledge that he does. 

And I wonder how many barriers it will take to drive him to a strip club or to sex with another woman.

As a member of the LDS faith, this weekend is our semi-annual general conference, where the general leadership of the church offers council and encouragement. And it's supposed to be kind of an exciting time...a somewhat rare opportunity to listen to our leaders speak to us the in the inspired words from the Lord would have us hear. And I'm so frustrated because he isn't listening. He isn't even making an effort at this point. And I think that he is setting an awful example for our children. And it irritates and frustrates me....not because of how it might affect my kids...but because the more he distanced himself from God and His gospel, the less hope there is for us to escape the cul de sac.

Jittery Days

I'm proud of myself for not getting depressed. There were a few tears shed, but I pushed through and did my work and came out on the side of acceptance. 

The thing I hate most about these revelations is the distance between Jonah and I afterwards. And there is pride on my part that says that I didn't do anything wrong! He should be the one to reach out to me! I have a right to be hurt and annoyed, right?

He says he stays away because he thinks I don't want him to be there.....which really bugs me because I've never asked him to leave or to go away. I've never refused to talk to him for any reason at any time. I've always been completely open and maybe not completely welcoming but never unwelcoming. I don't know where he has ever gotten the idea that he couldn't come to me or hat I wouldn't want him to come to me. I love him. If I didn't love him, it wouldn't hurt me. If I didn't love him, I wouldn't be here. And because I love him, I will always want him to be near me. I will always want him to come to me with his pain and his struggles and his joys. 

I want him to be better. I want to help him be the best that he can possibly be. Helping him become the best person that he can be is what I need to help me become the best person that I can be. We need to be together and work together and help each other as we work toward our eternal destiny. 

My issue now is, where do we go from here? I suppose it's another example of my naïveté andaybe even my pride. I'm desperately afraid of what happens now. He's not been formally disciplined by our church. I've never had cause to be formally disciplined by the church. Of course I've done my own repentence...tried to make up for my mistakes and prayed for the forgiveness from God and His help to make up for what I cannot.

I'm afraid for him that some sort of formal discipline will be put on him. I know how much that would pain him. It would hurt me, too. And again, I'm amazed at the amount of humility it takes to bring your sins to a priesthood leader....the humility it takes to ask for that kind of help when the real possibility of consequences is there. It's not even my sin and I'm terrified and reluctant and tempted to tell him not to confess...tempted to tell him to just work it out at home. But as I have told him a thousand times, that hasn't worked before....only pride and stupidity (insanity?) would pretend that the results would be different this time. 

I know what needs to be done. I only hope he does, too. And I hope it works....that real change can be made....that we'll be better for it.

Relapse and the 5 Stages of Grief

So, it happened. Relapse. That big evil dreaded word. And I hate to be setting him up for failure....but it was kind of inevitable. And I hate to be setting him up for failure....but it's a whole lot easier to give a hopeless "I told you so" than it is to feel hope die again.

I kind of knew it was coming. I saw him getting lax and apathetic. We rented a movie the other night. He wasn't feeling well, so I went to the store to get him some medicine while he stayed home and watched the movie. When I came home, he was watching Netflix, not the rented movie. I asked him why. He said because it wasn't funny and he had gotten bored. I could see the time stamp on the DVD player where the movie had been stopped. 26 minutes.

The next day, I decided to watch the movie myself. I was up and about, doing laundry and other things. I didn't notice until it was halfway through that there was a rather....graphic? scene in a strip club. I noticed at 24 minutes.

He had lied. He hasn't stopped the movie because it was boring. He had stopped it because of the explicit sexual content. And the part I didn't want to admit in that moment was....he didn't stop the movie until after he has watched that scene.

My chest tightened...rage and intense sadness and the desire to vomit and eat a whole box of cookies.

I talked to him later about it. He said he lied because he was embarrassed but that nothing had happened. He turned it off and that was good. I told myself that was good. I told him that it was a stupid thing to lie about.

Sunday, I asked him if he was going to go see the bishop. He said he didn't want to because he didn't know what to do there. He said he was going to go to one of the addiction groups instead. I felt angry and disappointed. He was getting lax. He had been talking about attending one of the groups for a while, but had never made any effort. He hadn't seen the bishop in over a month.

Last night, I went to a church women's function while he stayed home with the kids. And that's apparently when it happened. He watched some videos on his phone.

I don't know what to say other than that I was super pissed. 

He said he just clicked on an ad thinking it wouldn't be that bad but it turned out to be really bad. I yelled at him. "What did you expect to see that wouldn't be that bad!?!?!? What content were you expecting? What part of the video pushed it over the edge from 'not that bad' to 'really bad'? What would you have been okay with?" He finally hung his head and said, "it was a bad decision."

If there are 5 stages of grief, I think I blew through 3 of them last night. Denial...at least he didn't masturbate. Okay, he turned it off. That's good, right? 

Anger. The rat bastard. He does this! He says "it's not an issue anymore!" And then he stops doing the things that make it a non-issue. And then it happens again. And I yelled. And I told him this. And he said he didn't think it would be an issue again and that he thought it had just gone away. And I was like, "you complete and utter moron!!! Really? What kind of delusional fantasy world do you live in? Because of the 3 times in the last 10 years that I've tried to help you and the countless times you've tried to quit on your own, when has it ever just been gone? What situation, what experience do you have which made you so arrogant to think that the last 2 months of sobriety were different or better than any other 2 month bout of sobriety?" And then of course the "what on earth made you click on that? What was going through your brain that made you think, 'this will be fun!'???" Bastard.

And bargaining. "Have you decided what you are going to do now? No? Well, I have a list. You have now lost your YouTube privileges. You can't have Facebook on your phone. You need to talk to the Bishop and if you don't know what to do when you talk with him, you **ask him**! You start attending those meetings. You don't miss one. Ever. For any reason."

And now I'm back to anger. Because I can't do depression again. I'm not willing to let him ruin my life and my day because he did something some completely stupid and selfish and thoughtless. Bastard.

But I'm sure it will come. That dark cloud is looming on the horizon like a hurricane just off the coast, ready to rip apart my world, knock me off my feet, and send me spiraling down into the pit again....that out where I am so alone and afraid and helpless. Bastard.

There's that song that kids sing about going on a bear hunt or a snipe hint or whatever variation you prefer....and as you are out wandering around looking for bears, you encounter various obstacles in the forest like a muddy spot and a briar patch and a river and a cave. And as you approach each obstacle, you say "can't go over it! Can't go under it! We'll have to go through it!"

On the other side of depression is acceptance. I'm standing here on my bear hunt....standing in anger and bargaining....pacing in a circle....staring at the depression in front of me. I can't go over it or under it. I know that I've got to go through it. I just really don't want to. I feel like it took so much out of me last time. It took me so long to find a way out. I feel like I was only just finally finding my way to solid ground....that I was just starting to really feel confident in my footing....and the rug has been pulled from under me. 

I know I'm mixing like a million metaphors....but...

I just don't want to do it. It's not fair! I didn't do anything wrong! I've been supportive and forgiving and kind and loving. I've done everything that I know how to do. And yet, here I am again. Again. It isn't fair.

My son is supposed to be baptized this year. My second son. And I hate that I don't trust my husband to be worthy to do it. At this point, I don't trust anyone to be worthy to baptize my son. I look around me and see a bunch of closet porn addicts and perverts. I see sex crazed youth who will grow up to disappoint their wives and poor little girls who have so many hopes to be crushed. I see sad and lonely women who think they are the only ones who hurt....treading water in marriages that are hiding secrets. And I feel helpless and hopeless because I can't help any of them. I can't save the men or teach the youth or disillusion the girls or comfort the women. I can't save any of them. Because I'm barely treading water, too. I'm drowning in my own mess of secrets and sadness. I'm trying to come to terms with my own reality. And I'm not doing a great job. 

I want to take my little girl and run. I want to escape reality.

The sad truth is, though....even when Dorothy made it to the magical land over the rainbow...it wasn't all lemon drops and blue birds...

I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I guess I'll start out by going to the gym. And then maybe I'll pick up a case of diet coke and I'll spend the day in my pjs.  And maybe I'll finally get the courage to head into depression. At least I've learned one thing...Christ is there. he loves me. So I'm not doing this alone. 

The Abiding Shame

I feel like, for now at least, the worst of this whole situation is over. I only rarely have nightmares. We are more open and honest with one another. Jonah is actively reading self help books. In a way, I've retreated back to a place where I try to pretend it has never happened. 

But it has happened. The residue of his sin and confession are like a gory aftermath that stains and complicates our lives.

And I am further impressed with the humility and testimony of those who go through a repentence process with their bishop because I wasn't even the one to confess sin, and yet I feel so much shame. I can't look that man in the eye, that man who knows our deepest secrets....that man who is called as our judge in Israel. And poor Jonah fears him. Jonah fears being reprimanded for making a comment during and young men's lesson. He fears a knowing glance during a discussion on the law of chastity.

I fear that, in my weakness and sorrow and selfishness, I judged Jonah too harshly, and that the Bishop will use that as a reason to be harder on him in the future. I'm afraid of the pity that hides behind ever handshake and "good morning, sister Darlene!"

And all of these fears come from shame. 

I didn't realize how much shame I was feeling until the Bishop came to shake my hand at Women's conference. I couldn't look at him. I have him the weakest of wet fish handshakes and ran in the other direction. It was humiliating.

Someone said, on Sunday, that shame is not something God wants for us to feel. I think I believe him. I think shame and guilt are closely related. They are a form of sorrow for the consequences of our actions. They are a desire to hide the consequences and hide from the consequences. 

Godly sorrow is something different. I think it is the recognition that we were wrong, God was right, and we could have been happier if we had just listened to Him in the first place. 

We should feel Godly sorrow for our sins because it is the acknowledgment that we could do better, that we could be happier. And it motivates us to change. 

Godly sorrow is motivated by humility. Shame and guilt are motivated by pride.

So this week, I am going to seek to eliminate my own shame. That is my goal. I need to be humble and allow myself to feel the love of others in my life rather than focusing on a guess of how they might be judging me.

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

On a lighter note, Jonah reports  that though the temptation has not yet gone away, he has successfully remained sober. And for my part, I didn't feel like I was going to throw up when he admitted that he was still tempted! Growth! 

Escaping Solitary

I'm amazed at how differently I've felt over the last week or so! Sunday was kind of an emotional day, but it wasn't bad. And I feel like I'm learning so much.

After my initial disclosure to a friend about what's been going on, I feel like a weight has been lifted. I know I've said it before, but I was litterally drowning in secrets and I couldn't breath....I couldn't withstand the weight of them. I talk to her for maybe 15 minutes on Facebook, and it made all the difference.

On Sunday, when Jonah was so emotional and upset, I told him how much it had helped me just to talk to somebody and not feel alone. I encouraged him to find someone to talk to, too....someone who might be going through or might have gone through the same thing. He mentioned a friend, and I encouraged him to make plans.

Tonight, he and, let's call him Chris, went to see a movie and get burgers. Jonah came home almost a different person. He was open and affectionate and said he was starting to realize what a horrible thing he had been engaged in. Chris encouraged Jonah to attend the church addiction recovery meetings and gave him a list of books to read. I'm so grateful for Chris and the support he is being. I haven't always been Chris's biggest cheerleader, but I'm very grateful for him right now.

I think the nature of sin is isolation. When we sin we isolate ourselves from others and from God. The guilt and shame that we feel only isolates us further. We feel alone and miserable, which is exactly how satan wants us to feel. Christ and His atonement help bring us back into the fold of God, help us be cleansed of our shame and our guilt and help us change for the better. It's an amazing feeling.

I have such a strong testimony of our Savior's love and grace. And so, in a way, I am grateful for this trial, because I've never appreciated Him in that way. I know that the light at the end of the tunnel is neither sunshine nor a train, it is the light of Christ; a light that can penetrate all darkness no matter how deeply ensconced in the darkness we are. It is incomparably far reaching and all encompassing. It can find us wherever we are, whether in the depths of despair or in the brightest moments of joy and happiness. It is love and hope.

I might have told this story before, but I was reading about the apostles in the boat after the feeding of the 5000. They had just witnessed an amazing miracle and listened to a beautiful discourse. And they get on the boat, and Christ goes in the back to take a nap. As the storm grows increasingly more ferocious, they panic and run about trying desperately to keep the boat upright and above water. The work feverishly until the very last moment when all is lost and they've all but given up. And in that moment they shake Jesus awake and yell at Him "are you content to let us die while you take a nap!?!" And in that moment, He walks calmly to the deck of the boat, looks around and says, "peace, be still," calming the raging waters almost instantly. 

The point the author was making is that we are often content to allow Christ to nap in the back of our lives, basically ignoring him but taking for granted that He is there. And even in the times of our trials, we do not turn to Him first. We fight and we dig in our heels and we do our best. It is only when we feel that all hope is lost that we find ourselves screaming in His face, "why aren't you doing anything!?! Are you content to let me die!?!" The truth is that He was there all along, silently aware, always loving and concerned, but waiting for us to ask. President Monson said that Christ is "in the details of our lives."

I hope that this lesson is a permanent one for me because I don't want to have to learn it again. But, I think more than anything, I have learned that Christ is there for me. And if I learn to accept Him and His aid on my good days, I won't find it so difficult to find Him on my bad days. 

I've never felt so much love from heaven than I have in the last few weeks. I've seen little miracles that aren't much, but exactly what I needed. Days when I didn't want to get out of bed, one of the kids' teachers would call and ask me to come help for the day. A friend who understood. And a mighty change of heart. Little things that make the day and week seem easier and shorter. Moments when you realize that you aren't alone....but that though the road is rough, someone is carrying you.

Breaking Hearts and Breaking Through

Yesterday, I went to a local women's conference where a woman named Sister Debbie Christensen spoke. Afterwards was a light lunch, and then I went to Costco for diapers. 

When I got home, Jonah didn't acknowledge me at all. He's been in his funk, so I wasn't surprised. I guess this is the pornography addicts version of the DDTs. Withdrawal is painful.

I've been reading a lot lately about codependency. When I first started reading about pornography addiction and looking for help and advice, that word popped up a lot....but I didn't know what it meant. But as I hit rock bottom, I think I've figured it out.

I think codependency means that I allow my happiness and mood to be dependent on his behavior. It's very common among women in general....but becomes a more exacerbated problem among wives of addicts. But the thing is, I can't control him. I can't control his attitude or behavior or his feelings. 

And when I went to the support group, the ladies there spoke about letting go....about deciding to heal and to be better and to be happy regardless of whether he chooses to be better or not. 

So I decided to detach. I'm tired of being miserable. I'm tired of being sad because of thugs that I can't control. I'm tired of varying around an umbrella just because he's standing in the rain.

I detached. I went about my day and I ignored him. I did laundry and listened to my book on tape and made dinner and took care of the kids. I wasn't rude or malicious. I just did my thing. And I stopped reaching out to him....because it's exhausting constantly reaching out to someone who doesn't reach back. And ever since d-day, that's how it's been. I've been reaching out for him desperately because I want to hold on to him. I want to possess him and I need to know that he wants and needs me....because if he doesn't want and need me...then there is more to the pornography issue than just hormones.

But he doesn't reach back. He said once that I love him more than he loves me. It was so hurtful for him to say...but I think it's true. And a relationship like that is not healthy.

That's what pornography does. Orgasm produces the same hormones as a hug. Every time he has an orgasm in front of a computer, it creates those feelings of comfort and love in relation to the pornography and takes away from the love and comfort he should be feeling for me. It actually and literally erodes our relationship in his brain. Our relationship is not healthy. It's not all him....but....a lot of it is him.

So when he climbed into bed last night, having said a handful of words to me all day....and when he rolled over without touching me....not a hug....not an arm around my waist....but instead, a wall. A wall right down the middle of the bed. And I had no desire to share that bed with him in any way.

I decided to sleep on the living room floor in front of the fireplace. 

He didn't stop me. He didn't ask why. For all I know, he was fast asleep and didn't even notice me leave.

At 6:30a, he came into the living, laid down next to me, and put his arm around me. And though I don't remember the details, that's how it started.

We ended up in the bedroom with the door shut. He said I had seemed cranky yesterday. And I told him. I wasn't cranky, I just wasn't chasing him around all day like the dog fighting for his attention. I said he doesn't think of me. I'm not a thought to him. I'm just another thing to do...an obligation to fulfill. I'm an object that he keeps around for his convenience in case he is interested in me at some random, unpredictable point. He avoids even platonic affection from me and he doesn't appreciate me.

He didn't disagree. He couldn't. It is the true. He loves me, but it is a selfish love...and it only comes up when it is convenient to him. And my co dependent habits become debilitating in that environment. So while codependency is never healthy, I absolutely cannot be condependent because it is breaking me.

And, a little surprisingly, this was a revelation to him. He tried to justify his actions, but ultimately admitted that I was right. He said he loved me but not all the time. And I said that it didn't used to bother me this much, but now I have no trust in him. I can't trust that the moments he loves me are enough or just an effort to placate my neediness. I can't trust what he says. I can only believe in what he does. And he has only done things for himself. Even his confession was selfish....coming in his timeline for his own purposes and changing only to the degree he is willing to get to.

It broke him. He's been avoiding things just as I have. And he got really upset and repentant. 

And skipping the messy, snotty details, he closed off. But I didn't leave. I stayed. I sat there, comforting and compassionate but detached. This is his pain. He needs to deal with it. He can change or not. I am a daughter of God....and I have a higher purpose than to sit around moping.

It took a lot of pushing, but he finally admitted that he didn't want to go to church. And I bluntly told him that that was a really stupid idea. He said he couldn't pray privately at church. I said he couldn't receive revelation or get outside himself sitting at home. I've seen this pattern before. Sure, he might pray or whatever....but the majority of the day would be spent "cleaning" and listening to Motab on iheart radio....thinking that replaces sabbath worship. But we can't repent by disobeying commandments. I told him that I would never force him to go to church and I wouldn't judge him if that is the decision he made....but...skipping church to spend the day "repenting" is a stupid plan. 

So he decided to get out of bed and go to church. It took him longer than usual....but I think it did him good. He had to get outside himself.

In the few quiet moments we had before we had to leave for church, I decided to give him the addiction recovery manual that I was given when I went to the support meeting. And I encouraged him to use it. Maybe that's why I needed to go to the meeting.....not for me....but for him. For the first time, he's been truly repentant....truly accepting that his actions have had effects in his life. And for the first time, he's been willing to do something a little bit more to try and correct it.

The scriptures say that we must go to the Lord with a broken heart and a contrite spirit. I think I saw that in him this morning. I hate that he had to hurt so much...but I'm encouraged that it's happened.

At the women's conference yesterday, she said that "as we struggle though...gethsamane, you go in and learn what you need to learn and you come out with the riches of eternity in your heart." 

I guess another word for gethsamane is "rock bottom." And I suppose we have to hit rock bottom in order to find a place where we can kneel.

Here's hoping that our break through is permanent. It took us 10 years to get to this point, so it might take us more than a few weeks or months to really get over it. It's been little things that have thrown us off for years. As President Uchtdorf said "Through years of serving the Lord and in countless interviews, I have learned that the difference between happiness and misery in individuals, in marriages, and families often comes down to an error of only a few degrees." Those few little things have thrown us thousands of miles off course over the last decade. We can get back on track....but it will take a while, and we'll have to develop new, better habits. 

I hope there are no more rock bottoms. I hope that it's uphill from here. I'm ready to move on with my life, I'm ready to be done cleaning up the mess that pornography has made of my life.

Dagny

"If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders - What would you tell him?"

"I…don't know. What…could he do? What would you tell him?"

To shrug."

"Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists.. it is real.. it is possible.. it's yours."

"She did not know the nature of her loneliness. The only words that named it were: This is not the world I expected."

"But you see, the measure of hell you're able to endure is the measure of your love."

Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

Tender Mercies

The last couple of days have been pretty bad. Dark days. 

And I realized that my moments on the couch, Netflix and video games, books on tape and headphones....it's all avoidance. I've been avoiding the issue because it's too painful.

I've been drowning in a sea of secrets, barely able to keep my head above water, gasping for air and relief. It's suffocating; keeping everything in. It's terrifying and hard....and so I've tried to pretend it isn't happening.

I know that reading my scriptures and prayer are the best ways to get over this, but I haven't been doing it. And I wake up every day, watching as a spectator the minutes of my life tick by, wondering why I'm not taking the steps I need to take to move on. And I think I've figured it out....to heal, to move on, to get over it, I have to acknowledge it....and in a way....on some level....I haven't been able to really do that. I've been avoiding. I've been hiding. I've been drowning.

And I prayed in my heart what I should do. And I felt so strongly that I needed to talk to someone....to tell someone. And I did.....sort of. I felt so strongly that there wa one person I could talk to. I had thought of going to her before, but had always lost courage and allowed the moment to pass. The feeling, the impression was so overwhelming, I couldn't ignore it. So I messaged her on Facebook.

I couldn't even type the words at first. And I typed faster and faster and the words pored out of my fingers like acid rain, cleansing and putrid. And I sobbed until my head hurt and my eyes ran out of tears.

And she understood! She knew **exactly** how I feel. It was such a relief! It was like coming up for fresh air! And suddenly, I could breathe again! And she didn't have a ton of time....but it was enough....it was just a second....and it was just what I needed. I was able to do the laundry....something I haven't been able to bring myself to do in weeks. And I cleaned up the kitchen and made dinner. And was able to do little things that I haven't been able to do.

I guess I didn't realize how desperate I was, how deep the water had gotten until I found that moment of relief. I'm so grateful for little miracles. The little miracles are going to be the stepping stones that will help me climb out of this pit.

Frustrations and Fears

I'm so angry....I'm so frustrated. And I'm annoyed that even going to that stupid group thing...I still have no one to talk to. In fact they said during the "sharing" portion that you weren't supposed to talk about your troubles, only your solutions. 

After getting home from work yesterday, Jonah was in a mood. He wouldn't admit to being in a mood....but he was in a mood. He was snappy with the kids and not willing to talk to me. And when I told him that I wanted to go to the group, his attitude just got worse. Again, he wouldn't admit that anything was wrong or that he was in a bad mood, but he obviously wasn't in a good mood.

After the meeting, I got home pretty late. I typed my last post in the parking lot of the seminary building where the meeting was held. I didn't want to forget anything. I came home feeling relatively calm.

When I pulled into the driveway of the house, I was of course suspicious. The lights in the basement were on and the upstairs was dark. I figured that Jonah was breaking the rules again. And it's so annoying...because even if he's "clean"...he's not taking this seriously.

Well, I was wrong. He was sitting in the living room. He asked me how the meeting went, and I started to tell him when I heard the TV on downstairs. I asked if he had been watching tv downstairs and he said no. I asked, well then why is the TV on? Who's down there? He said the brothers were down there! I was so annoyed! It was almost 10pm! But I didn't get angry, and I didn't say anything to him....I just went downstairs, turned off the TV (among protests that the show was almost over) and sent the brothers off to bed. The princess was already in bed, he said, after apologizing for not getting the boys ready. But I found out this morning that he didn't bother changing her clothes or diaper because she was still in her tutu skirt and was soaking wet when I got her up this morning.

Anyway, so, after the kids were all taken care of, I sat down to talk to him about the meeting. The conversation digressed and basically culminated in his assertion that **he doesn't think what he did was that big of a deal!!!!** 

Wait, what?!?!

Yeah. 

So he says that he feels bad that he hurt me so badly but he doesn't feel like what he did was that big of a deal. I wasn't able to really process that at the time, though I tried to argue the point. He says he doesn't feel different having stopped. And everything that I blamed on the pronography, he absolutely denied being connected at all. I was a little pissed off at the point and dropped it.

And then, to bed. And he rolled over and went to sleep. No more talking. No more argument. No more thought from him.

But I keep thinking about it. And I keep getting more and more annoyed and frustrated! If he feels that way, what is going to prevent him from doing it again. I mean, I didn't catch him. And if hurting me is the only thing stopping him and it's not that big of a deal, why wouldn't he just start hiding it from me again?

I'm angry. And I'm hurt. And I'm sad. I'm sad. 

He keeps saying that it's been a month and he hasn't relapsed so it must be cured, right! He says the Internet restrictions will stop it from happening again. And I hate that. Because we've had restrictions before and it didn't stop him. And the last time he talked to a bishop, he said that he went 3 months before he started again. So a month is nothing.

He's not taking this seriously. And I'm really annoyed about it. I don't know how to make him see that it's not just the porn or masturbating that is bad. It's his attitude. His attitude is wrong. And it is demoralizing to me. He is minimaliIng my pain. Doesn't he see that what he is implying is that I'm overreacting? That what he is saying to me is "Well, fine! If it bothers you so much, I'll stop!" He's justifying his lying....it's not that big of a deal, so lying to you is protecting your from your own unjustified reactions!

No, his attitude is wrong. And **he** needs to fix that. I'm not sure that I can get that through his thick, addicted skull.

I'm so angry with him right now. And I don't see me trusting him with that attitude. I don't see recovery happening fully. I just don't see the change of heart that I wish were there. And the changes that I want to be made in our relationship aren't going to happen without that change of heart.

The Meeting

I decided to go to a meeting. I kept thinking that I wanted to tell someone something....but I kept talking myself out of it. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to confess the immense shame that I carry. So I decided to go to a meeting.

Of course I got lost. I always get lost. I finally found the right building and dreaded a bit the fact that the parking lot was full and that a car pulled into the spot next to me. 

I kind of hoped that it would be like the AA meetings on Grey's Anatomy where it's a decent sized room filled with folding chairs and a podium with a microphone at the front. I was hoping to park up front and slink in the back without being noticed. And I hoped to only be forced into polite chit chat after it was all said and done as I grabbed stale cookies and juice with the other attendees at the end of the meeting.

But instead, I found myself in a seminary building next door to the high school. Walking through the doors was like walking into a chapel with couches and fake flowers and pictures of Christ everywhere.

The room hung heavy with too much cologne...and a sign hung on each side of the double doors confirming that those who wanted to attend a meeting were in the right place.

As I walked through the doors into the comfortable foyer, there was a wall in front of me and a hallway to each side. I laughed a little at the mosque style signs and arrows indicating that men were to head to the right while the women were to head down the hallway to the left. And at the end of the seemingly long hallway, there was a small classroom with maybe 7 desks pulled out of their regular rows to forms a sloppy, makeshift circle.

There was no podium and no quiet, unnoticed slinking as 3 of the 4 women already seated had chosen spots that faced the door.

I sat in the chair closest to the door and the person who had been in the car that pulled into the parking lot behind me came in a short time later, taking the seat next to me. One more woman entered a few minutes later and the whole party was assembled.

They were discussing lesson 5 from the manual on overcomingpornography.org. It was a quick discussion. There wasn't a lot of sharing. 2 of the original occupants of the room were missionaries trained by LDS social services. One was an older middle aged woman. Another was probably in her 50s. Those 4 spoke the most. The woman who had come in last had been to one previous meeting, but the woman sitting next to me was at her first meeting....like me...and she stayed very quiet.

Spiritually, I'm not sure what I expected from this experience. It was good. I guess I had kind of hoped to meet my new best friend. I don't think that happened. Maybe next time, though. Maybe next time I can participate more and make a friend.

The thing, though, was it was all about me. It wasn't about his addiction or the things he has done wrong. This is about me becoming a better person, developing a better relationship with my Father in Heaven. And so, I think I'll come again.

As I was sitting there, I was thinking, what do I expect to get out of this? And the thought immediately came that maybe I need to stop thinking about what I'm going to get and maybe be prepared to help someone else if they need it.

I do have to say that the Spirit in the room was more palpable than I have felt in such a long time. I know that my Heavenly Father loves me. I felt that so strongly tonight. Maybe I did find my new best friend. It's cheesy, but maybe that's what I needed...maybe Christ needs to be my best friend. I need to accept Him and know that He can be enough.

The Morning Breaks

He came back to bed last night in a somewhat penatent mood. It was late. He had probably been gone an hour or so. He muttered something about being sorry and probably needing more sleep. I sniffled and he thought I was crying. But I didn't look at him. I wasn't crying....I had been before....but I wasn't at that moment. I kind of wanted him to think I was. He asked me what was wrong and I said nothing. And then less than a minute later he was snoring. And I cried for real.

How many times in our last did he do something like this, blow up for no reason, and then retreat to the basemt for the pleasure of someone else's company? He said he wouldn't be in the basement at night alone. Whether he relapsed or not, he broke the rules. I hate that we have to have rules.

This morning he tried very hard. He said he was sorry and that he needs to learn more loving ways to say things. He asked how I was feeling. I didn't want to tell him because I hate that I'm suspicious. I hate that this is the person that I am. 

I told him that he doesn't hate when people eat in beds.....he sometimes hates when people other than him eat in bed. It isn't consistent and it doesn't apply to him. And I didn't mean to offend. He hadn't been paying attention to me all evening....which is fine. I don't need constant attention. And he was watching a movie with headphones on. I didn't know that he had stopped the movie. 

I didn't tell him that this was the way my father treated my mother. That my father would chastise her and make her feel guilty for swearing or yelling at the kids when the truth was that he yelled and swore, too....and the darker truth was that he followed through on his threats. He was a hypocrite....a word I don't like because I think it is misused and overly used. A hypocrite is not a person who believes in a higher law that they are striving to live up to but can't always achieve it. A hypocrite is someone who holds others to a different standard than they do themselves and then judges the others more harshly when they fail to live up to those standards. That's what my father did. He was far from perfect, and he seemed content with that. But we were expected to be perfect. And when we didn't live up to his expectations, we were chastised and berated and beaten.

My husband would never beat me. But he gets into these moods and he berated me. That's how I felt last night. I was lying in bed feeling like the fat girl who eats everywhere she goes...while her husband whacks off in the basement looking at girls who are actually attractive.

I know it's not about me...intellectually I know that....but sometimes it doesn't feel that way.

But back to this morning....

So then I started to cry and I couldn't get the words out. And I said that I hate myself for letting my brain go there but he has a problem and he made rules and he broke the rules. And he apologized sheepishly and said that he had forgotten about the rules. He wasn't thinking about the rules. He said that I should have reminded him. And I said I had just been yelled at by him....I didn't want to accuse him of something so that I could get yelled at again. 

He apologized a lot then. I didn't ask. The bishop told me that I should ask, that I have a right to ask. Jonah has told me that he wants me to ask. But I couldn't ask. From the way it all played out, it doesn't sound like anything happened. He has promised to tell me if it ever does happen again, and he didn't offer any confessions of the sort....so I can only assume he is still clean...but I'm not sure that I would want to know if he weren't.

But he did say he felt better knowing how I feel. I do, too. But I still feel sad. I feel bleak....not hopeless or scared. Just....foggy and bleak. There is hope...and there is a chance for life to be better than this...but the odds are against us.

I guess, though, that bleak is a step up from the dark places we have been in before. Every step forward is a step that didn't take us backwards. And maybe that is the road to trust...through the darkness and into the fog and maybe someday into the sun.

Obsession and Misery

I'm sitting here, and I'm obsessing. And it makes everything a million times worse than it needs to be. I don't know what to do. I hate this. I hate it! I HATE IT!!!!

Okay, so he has this thing. He hates when I eat in bed. Okay, it's his thing, whatever. But he's such a jerk about it!

And we were in bed. And I was watching a movie and he was watching a movie on his iPad. And I (this is a little TMI, sorry) I had a Pap smear today....which makes me a little queasy and crampy. So I grabbed a small snack to help settle my stomach....and I didn't really think too much about it because he was wearing headphones! But he got all pissy and stomped off. And I asked where he was going, and he was such a jerk!! "I hate eating in bed! Maybe I'll come back when you're done."

And off he went....and I'm sitting here stewing. And of course my first thought is how porn addicts treat their wives like crap. So of course I can only assume he's going to look at porn. And when I hear him head toward the basement instead of the living room, it's just confirmation, right! And an hour later he hasn't come back, so of course the bastard is relapsing! But I'm too prideful to go down and check because I would have to admit that I care of that is what he is doing. And on the flip side, I would have to admit that I don't trust him at all. 

Bastard. Lying, flipping, porn addict, masturbating bastard. This is what I've been turned into. This is what I've become:  a bitter, angry, untrusting, she'll of a woman who cries every time her husband walks down the stairs.

I hate myself, and I hate this. I feel like I'm setting him up for failure so that I can point and say, "see! I told you so!" 

I hate him in this moment....because I'm so scared and ashamed. I don't know how to ask for help because I don't know what help I need. I just know that I'm floundering in this ocean of doubt and suspicion and I don't know how to get back on dry land.

I'm alone. So alone. I hate that he has done this to me. I hate the piteous looks the bishop gives to me. I hate the smiling, content faces of the happy couples all around us. And I hate that I can harbor so much hate in my soul. 

I don't know what I want. I just know that I can't live like this....dancing on the precipice between happiness and insanity. I almost wish that I could jump over the edge because at least that action is certain. Misery is an easy constant, which is probably why so many people don't fight their way out of it. It's easier to stay at rock bottom than it is to risk falling again as you try to climb up. There's a certain level of comfort in that.

But I'm still on the edge of the cliff. I'm still holding on for dear life. And I'm so tired. I wish I knew when it would be over....how long it will be until I'm safe again. I wish I knew if I will ever be safe again. I don't have any answers. I'm drained and for tonight I might let go...just for a second....just to see what happens.

Cheated Moments

Sometimes I think the biggest challenge I have in this life is to overcome and fight against that feelin of being cheated out of something that I deserved or something everyone else gets.

I look back at my childhood and the things that weren't given to me....the moments that should have been. I had very few sleep overs or friends over because of the mess. My parents were old and fat and didn't play with us. I didn't get piano lessons or dance class. We weren't sent to summer camps or sports clinics to improve our performance in anything. And when I did manage to get on a team and play a game, they were never there....so I quit asking.

In college, I had no support from my family, emotionally or financially...so I didn't do the things that college kids do. I didn't date a lot or hang out with friends. I was the kid at the table who ordered the cup of soup and tried to make it last while everyone else ate their entrees. My parents didn't pay their taxes, so I didn't qualify for financial aid. And I ended up putting it on a credit card and working 3 jobs to pay it off.

And then my wedding...I don't think a single person was there for me...not even my mother (who was there for herself). No photographer and no cake. Not even a gaudy dress.

There are little moments we all just kind of expect to have. I always wanted to drive off into the sunset in my car with paint all over it and little cans tied to the bumper. Jonah's family didn't do that though....their idea of decorating a car was to hide rotten meat under the seats and stuff the trunk full of the trash from the reception.

You expect presents and happiness at te birth of your children but I got drama and an undeserved lecture from Jonah's father.

When we bought out first house, jonah's grandparents helped us, but only because they didn't trust us enough to borrow their truck. And they didn't really help so much as complain and dictate and drive back and forth between the old place and the new place.

With our second house, friends from the ward helped when they found out that no one else was going to be there.

It's easy to look back and feel rather helpless and alone and cheated. The struggle is to remain grateful. Am I grateful for these trials?

This morning, Jonah left for work very early. He told me because he didn't want me to wake up without him there and worry and make assumptions. I'm grateful that he was considerate like that..but I hate that he had to do it. I hate that I worry and make assumptions. I hate myself right now.

I'm at a point where I can put on the smiley face and not worry about breaking down in public. And most of the time I'm fine....really.....but those times are also when I am in the most denial about our situation. I'm scared and I am tired. And I'm sad. I don't know if I need a pill or prayer or therapy or chocolate or some combination of all of them. But I do think I need to talk to someone....because I need my situation to be real. I can't live in denial anymore. I need to face it and overcome it....not sweep it under a rug and hope to come to a place where I've successfully ignored it.

The Church's Principle's Office

Yesterday was the day. The day that I went with Jonah to his standing appointment with the bishop.

I have a fear of authority. It's kind of paralyzingly. I just don't deal well with confrontations with authority figures. Even when I know the outcome will be good or that the purpose of the interview is not nefarious in any way, still, I break out in sweats and jitters...I often start to cry....at which point in pretty sure that all respect that the person sitting on the other side of the desk might have once had for me flies out the window and is immediately replaced with the moderately true conviction that I am certifiably insane. I don't know how to get over that....

So, in this situation, walking into that office, I was a wreck. I hate it. I didn't want to look him in the eye. I didn't want to answer his questions.

And he asked me how I was. And I said, "better." I can't remember everything that happened. I told a little bit about my father and I focused really hard on not crying. I said I hated being paranoid and that my first thought when waking up in the morning is "he's not here! Where is he, what is he doing, and why?" (At which point, he told me that was fine and good and if Jonah got defensive or said I was nagging then he was the one who was in the wrong.)

But what I remember the most is the feeling of utter humiliation. I hate that I've been put in this situation. I didn't do anything wrong! 

But that isn't what I said when the bishop asked me how I felt. I said that I was angry and hopeless and infuriated and annoyed and a thousand other things. These are sins I never wanted to have to deal with...words like "pornography" and "masturbation" are words I never wanted to have to say.

Jonah is trying. And he is staying sober and promising to let me know if he slips or relapses in any way. And I'm starting to feel normal....except I'm not.

I was asked by the Relief Society to teach a class on securing computers and blocking inappropriate content. It feels ironic. That knowledge used to make me feel safe and in control. Now it make me feel powerless and scared and naive. I mean, what's the point? Nothing could have protected my family from **his** choices....because ultimately they were his choices to make.

The plan of Satan was to compel us to be righteous and to return to live with God. Christ wants us to choose to be happy, to choose to be righteous and to choose to return because He knows that, as glib as it sounds, it's the thought that counts.

My husband loves me. And I love him. I just really hate this. I hate everything about this. The bishop said something about how this will ultimately be for our good. I want someone else's good.

Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day was one of those amazing nights. We got a sitter! We've never gotten a sitter for Valentine's Day! Most years, we haven't done anything at all. There has been work and school. And then there was no money and kids.

I wonder sometimes if he loves me the way that I love him. He says that he loves me, and I believe him. And yet, there are times when I wonder how deep that love is. 

We were at the grocery store on Friday night for our usual Friday night making dinner date, and the place was full of men buying flowers and chocolates and donuts for breakfast. And Jonah made that typical snark of "Valentine's day is dumb! Can't I just love you all year without having a special day where o have to prove it?" I kind of thought it was a joke and ignored it....but, the next day, when I asked him if he wanted to exchange gifts before or during our date, he said he hadn't gotten me anything.

I hate to be the demanding and shallow girl...but sometimes I'm really jealous of the women sitting at home alone on Friday night because their significant others are out thinking about how to make them smile.

He wasn't super into the whole Friday night thing. And he didn't seem too excited about the Valentine's Day date. He eased into it, and we had a really great time. But I sometimes get tired of pushing him into loving me.

I know he loves me. I do. And I know he likes to spend time with me. But I also know that he gets preoccupied with everything else, and it drives wedged between us.

Ok, enough complaining and whining. We did have a good time. Jonah ended up getting some headache medicine, and after that he was much more into the ceramics painting. He painted an owl candle holder and I made an owl bank for the princess.

Then we had sushi. I asked the waitress to order for me since I had never had it before. It was fantastic and fully cooked. Jonah had a raw salmon with citrus stuff roll. And I couldn't stomach it. It didn't taste like raw fish, but the texture was wrong and really grossed me out.

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I think I've said this before but...I've been reading these blogs about other WoPAs that have been dealing with this for longer. And they deal with relapse after relapse. I don't know how they deal with it. Valentine's Day was exactly 5 weeks since D-day and that puts him at 5 weeks and 3 days sober. 38 days. And I'm barely starting to feel normal again. And that's when these other women start to report the relapses of their husbands. I think in afraid to be comfortable and normal because it would make it harder if there were a relapse. It's easier to not trust him and say "see! I told you so!" Then it would be to trust him and let myself get broken again.

A Great Hair Day

Today, I skipped my gym appointment, drove Jonah to work (I've been doing that a lot lately), and spent way too much money!

First we (the princess and I) walked around Walmart for about 90 minutes. We bought new workout clothes (old navy active wear **SUCKS**), a new dress for my Valentine's Day date, and paper valentines for the brothers.

Then we spent another hour in the fabric store picking out upholstery fabric and stuff to make a skirt lengthener slip thingy (unfortunately, the new V day dress is a wee bit short!).

The princess spent the whole time covering my arm with VeggieTales stickers.

I was happy. It felt really good to be happy. The last few days have been a bit of a rock bottom....but (thanks to this online journalism blog thing) I feel really hopeful because my rock bottom is not nearly as low as it was a month ago! Progress, right!?!

We stopped at subway (pretending to be healthy while ordering fast food) and played outside in the backyard. I was productive! I did laundry and the dishes and cleaned the kitchen and am fixing a computer!

We went to the park when the brothers were out of school, and made brinner (breakfast for dinner).

And to top it all off, I had a really fantastic hair day!

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I've been singing in a regional choir for a local women's conference that is coming up. We are singing a song by Sally DeFord called "Make Us One." I know this is super cheesy, but the lyrics have really touched me, so I want to post them here.

How shall we stand amid adversity?

Where is our comfort in travail?

How shall we walk amid infirmity,

When feeble limbs are worn and frail?

And as we pass through mortal sorrow, 

How shall our hearts abide the day?

Where is the strength the soul may borrow?

Teach us thy way.

Make is one that our burdens may be light!

Make us one as we seek eternal life!

Unite our hands to serve they children well.

Unite us in obedience to thy will.

Make us one! Teach us, Lord, to be,

One in faith, one in heart, one in Thee.

Then shall our souls be filled with charity,
Then shall all hate and anger cease
And though we strive amid adversity,
Yet shall we find thy perfect peace
So shall we stand despite our weakness,
So shall our strength be strength enough
We bring our hearts to thee in meekness;
Lord, wilt thou bind them in thy love?

Take from me this heart of stone,

And make it flesh even as thine own.

Take from me unfeeling pride;
Teach me compassion; cast my fear aside.
Give us one heart, give us one mind
Lord, make us thine
Oh, make us thine!

This son especially touched me at practice last night. Earlier in the evening, I had listened to a Mormon Messages podcast about pornography. It featured a couple who had gone through exactly what I am going through....except she dealt with it better than I am dealing with it. The big difference between her and I, though, is that she told everyone! She told her mom and dad and friends and siblings and everyone! She did not hold back! And she talked about how talking is essential because keeping things locked away is what satan wants! He wants us to be alone and miserable! He wants us to be ashamed and scared! Christ is all about love and openness. And how we need to find those around us to talk to and be open with....not just for ourselves, but for them, too.....you never know who might be out there dealing with stuff, too.

So with that in mind, singing the lyrics to that song....talking about how God wants us to be one. He wants to make us a solid group of sisters and saints so that we can work together....so that we can help one another....because He never intended man (or woman) to be alone. "And as we pass through mortal sorrow, how shall our hearts abide the day?...Make us one that our burdens may be light!"

I love how it talks about our trials teaching is charity. It's easy to judge someone when you have never been in their shoes. But pain does something to you. I hope no one ever has to feel the pain that I have felt. And I feel so much more empathy for those who have. 

I thought I understood this problem. I had so much pride. (Part of that was because my husband had lied to me and told me that our safeguards had solved the problem almost a decade ago....but that's beside the point.) I thought myself wise. But I was naive and foolish and oh so wrong. I'm so sorry to anyone I might have judged or inadvertently offended when I was so blind to the beam in the figurative eyes of my own relationship. I know better now....I know how little I know.

I feel like, today, Heavenly Father answered prayers that I did not speak. I felt so much hope and peace. I love my Father in Heaven so much, and I am so grateful for His love and care. I should be using this experience to draw nearer to Him....and though I talk about it, I haven't been diligent. But today my burden was lighter. Today I felt His power and the grace of the atonement of Christ.

If only I could hold on to this feeling for always....this feeling of....

...

......joy.

Echoes in My Broken Parts

I have become a woman with secrets. I've never been that kind of person before....not since I was a child trying to make excuses why no one could come into my house and why my underwear were not totally clean. I don't like secrets. I don't like hiding. I don't like being fake in real life.

This place...this is a secret. I've told my husband that he could read what I write here...partly because I want him to invite me to read what he writes. He declined. I don't think he wants to know. I don't really want to know either.

I had another dream last night, and I've noticed a pattern. I hope my husband never has to deal with this pattern of my subconscious. I'm ashamed of it....and afraid of it. I hate it.

 My secret and most disturbing dreams have (generally) focused on romantic (not sexual) encounters with men who are not my husband. The pattern to it is this:  My husband (let's call him Jonah) and I walk into a scene or setting. We know someone there, another man. He flirts with me or tries to display some affection for me. I blush, mutter something that indicates that I'm not against the expression of affection but (referring to Jonah) make it clear that my father is watching and so the affection is inappropriate at this time. That is the pattern. My husband and companion becomes my father. Damn you, Freud.

Have I mentioned that I've been cursing in my mind more lately? I don't like that part of my new self.

I guess the point is...the dreams bother me because I don't like my real father. And for Jonah to be taking that place in my subconscious is very disturbing.

For a fleeting moment last night, I heard an echo....deep down in the part of me that is broken....it said "I don't want to be married anymore." It was horrifying. I never want to think such a thing again. I love my husband. I do. But being scared all the time is exhausting.

I'm depressed. I know it. I hide it. But I don't want to do the things I normally would want to do. I don't want to be with people. I don't want to put any effort into anything. I find it difficult to read my scriptures or say formal prayers...although I've been getting more comfortable with the latter. I easily burst into tears. I watch a lot of Netflix. I'm tired all of the time. I sleep 10 hours per night and still have difficulty getting out of bed. They are sure signs of depression. Academically, I see it. I sometimes feel like my body is a shell and I am just hovering over it....watching. Life goes on autopilot. My responses to the world around me are pre-programmed and unenthusiastic. Joy is fleeting and my heart is not in anything.

I read a quote today from one of my favorite authors, Ayn Rand.

"Sex is the physical expression of a tribute to personal values."

 My husband has given tribute to base values. I think intimacy after a revelation of sexual addiction or any sort is so difficult because suddenly, you realize, his values do not match up with yours. How can you pay tribute to something you do not respect?

I love my husband. He is a hard worker. He is talented in so many ways. He loves our children and is a great father. But there is a part of him that I no longer respect. I guess he is like my father in that way....except there was little in my father to respect in the first place.

I want to attend a WoPA meeting....but I'm afraid that doing so would hurt Jonah. I'm also afraid that I won't fit in there because my problems are so seemingly small. How could I tell a woman whose husband has slipped into an Asian "Massage" parlor that I understand her pain? And how could I bear her pity when she tells me that she understands mine?

Have you ever moved from one house to another? And on that last day, after everything is packed in boxes and loaded onto the truck, you find yourself alone in that living room that seemed so small before...but now it is empty and larger. And even the quiet swish of the broom suddenly echoes in the space? Maybe there is a metaphor there. Maybe the key is to move to a different emotional "house." Although, I don't really know how that is done. Or maybe the key is to refill the room with new furniture and decor. Maybe that's how I stop the echoes.

Also, on a side note, I'm not doing the dumb formatting thing anymore....sometimes after dumping all of my pain into the void of the faceless internet, I am too spent to make the effort to resize a bunch of random words to make them standout. I'm getting lazy. Maybe. Or maybe it's just time for me to grow up.

Secrets and My Subconscious

I had hoped that the nightmares were going away....that I was starting to be better...that life was getting back to normal....but I'm not totally certain that I'm capable of normal anymore. Even my seemingly innocuous dreams are nightmarish and act as triggers.

I try to suppress the emotion of it...I try to hide from the pain and pretend like it doesn't affect me...but then I come here with every intention of writing some happy, inspired post only to find tears oozing from my fingertips.

I shared a dream that I had a couple of nights ago with my husband. It's funny to hear him say things like "So your dreams are just weird again, not nightmares! That's good!" He doesn't make the connections...the doesn't see the subtle nuances and how they relate to our situation. That "just weird" dream was full of public humiliations,  broken relationships, and fear. He saw a series of random events, unrelated and occurring in a completely inappropriate place. I don't want to hurt him, so I close my mouth in a tight smile. I won't tell him what it means...how it affects me. I won't tell him because my pain is my own and not his burden.

I had a dream last night. It was horrible and shameful...so much so that I can't relate it...not to anyone. I don't even want to talk about it here in any detail because I want it gone. I want it erased from my mind and memory. I want its moment in history to be deleted. I hate it. I hate that those sorts of thoughts and scenarios are in my head and that my brain is able to create such a vivid picture with them. It make me ill....literally ill.

Private moments with my husband triggered the memory of the dream. And the memory of the dream triggered the disgust and horror of my husband's revelation. I was suddenly thrust a million miles away from him, and it didn't feel like it was far enough. But I don't want to punish him continually. I don't want to be the pet owner that leaves the mark on the carpet just so that I can daily rub the dog's nose in his mistake. I want to be able to clean up the mess and move on. But how do I move on? I feel like something inside of me is broken. I am broken.

My son was asked to give a talk in primary today. But when we went into the primary room and sat down, we were told that the schedule had changed. I am an outsider there. I don't even know the schedule. Everything has changed. There are no constants in my life, and it is a depressing thought.

I made a comment in Sunday School and got a fact wrong. I felt awkward, and all of the shame that I have been hiding from crashed into my chest...the shame of his sin and my reaction and my inability to cope. I feel so alone.

I couldn't even look up after that. I slunk into my chair and played a game on my phone for the remainder of the lesson.

When we got home, everything was too much. The kids were bickering playfully, and my husband was teasing them. The princess needed to take her nap, and the ice cream was too hard to be served. I couldn't handle each person asking something of me. And the dream...there in the back of my mind....it was too much.

The bishop had mentioned that my husband's next appointment was supposed to be today. He mentioned that he wanted me to go, too. I asked my husband about it, and he so casually blew it off saying we could go next week when things weren't so crazy. It was another thing he was asking of me....to be okay with a blasé attitude. And the dream.....it was too much.

I left the kitchen and ran to the piano. I couldn't handle everything. I felt like my chest was going to explode with the emotion being trapped inside. The piano is still broken, but I don't care. I need it. And there are things our family needs, so I can't yet afford to replace it. My husband followed me and continued to tease me. I blurted out in a tone more desperate and venomous than I had intended "Stop it! Please, don't! Please! Just stop it!"

He was angry. I'm not sure if I blame him or not.

He went outside. He slammed the door. And I felt more shame and guilt.

I went out to ask him if he was okay....to see where he was going...where he had gone. He was sitting on the porch. He was not unkind but he was short with me. I got the message. I was not welcome in that moment.

And all I could think about as I headed into the house is that these are the moments when he is tempted...and he keeps saying that he is trying to be better for me...but he won't want to be better for me if he is angry at me. So I headed down to the basement. I'm hiding from the kids down there. I'm trying to calm down. And, deep down in a place that I don't want to acknowledge....I am guarding the computer.

20 minutes later he is sitting next to me, head on my shoulder, as if nothing happened. I'm not sure how to react....how to feel. And still, I think, he is better now. I can't burden him with my pain. It is my pain.

What is wrong with me? I feel like in my darkest moments that I reach out to my Savior. And I take His hand, and everything seems okay. But I let go for just a moment because I have to live. I have to do laundry and dishes, and suddenly the light is out again. I don't know when or how it happened; I just know that I am sitting in the basement like a sentinel, but everything around me seems so futile. Why clean up the messes that are just going to be reformed in a few minutes when the boys head down here? And it is a metaphor for how I feel about life! I don't want him to know how hopeless I feel about this process of "recovery"...but he's opened up to me before...he's confessed and been found out before....

The stake president spoke in church today about how in the moments when we are right and use that as a justification not to forgive....even when we are right, we are wrong.....because we should always forgive. And again, I feel the shame of not being able to go back to the way things were. I feel like I have forgiven him....but I don't know how to trust him. And does that mean that I haven't truly forgiven him?

Anyway, that's how I feel today. I feel shame....shame for my dream and shame because I can't let go and shame because my trial is so small when compared to others.