My Story; Part 3: It Hits the Fan

2 days ago, my  husband confessed to me that he had a continuing pornography problem. What he had once told me was an easily stopped and long since resolved issue that happened maybe once per month had continued through 10 1/2 years of marriage, 3 children, 2 moves, and who knows how many electronic devices. I was devastated.

I think of myself as a fairly rational person. I don't think anyone would describe me as particularly emotional. I like logic and reason because they make sense. Emotions frighten me. They don't make sense. They can't be reasoned away or forced into existence. We can foster certain emotions and try to replace others....but for the most part....emotional responses are immediate and uncontrollable.

I had an immediate and uncontrollable response:  I went into damage control mode. I stopped looking at him. I asked very few questions (among them how often and since when), and I laid out my list of demands.

1. Go see the bishop.
2. Give me your iPad and allow me to set whatever restrictions I want on it.
3. Give me access to your computer and allow me to set up parental controls and reporting software.
4. Go fix something.

And that was the end of it. I had done what I could do, and I shut down. I literally shut down for the rest of the day. I couldn't smile or work or even bring myself to get dressed. I curled up under a blanket on a rocking chair in my sewing room and stayed there in my pajamas all day. I wasn't cruel. I wasn't emotional. I didn't even really avoid him. I just. shut. off.

That night, we watched a movie together. And I'm not completely sure what happened inside of me....but as soon as the movie ended....I got up, and I left. I left the room, went upstairs to the bedroom, laid down and went to sleep. He didn't follow me. I didn't ask him to. I didn't ask him not to. I'm not sure what I wanted.

The next day was Sunday, and there were a lot of thoughts going through my head at this point. He had an early meeting and I had kids to get ready for church. And when everyone was clean and shiny and ready to go, we still had some time. So I do what I always do when I am on the verge of any major emotion: I sat down at the piano.

And that's when the walls that I have built up to protect myself started to crack.

What do I do? What does this mean? I know what pornography is. I know why it is bad. I find it disgusting and base and abhorrent. But that isn't why I am hurt. That isn't why I feel violated. Yes, it is a type of cheating. Yes, I could walk down that whole road....but that isn't why I am feeling what I am feeling.

He lied. He lied repeatedly. He lied consistently over the course of 10 years. And yeah, he's promising to change, but I've heard **THAT** song before!

Bastard.

He lied.

And he says he has never lied to me about anything else...but isn't that what liars do? They lie about lying!? How can I trust anything?

He says he was afraid. He says it took him 3 days to get up the courage to tell me. I checked his computer. 3 days is about right. 9:59p on Wednesday night is when he deleted his browsing history....bastard. He couldn't even have the common decency to leave it there so that I could know what I was competing with.

I feel violated.

And I know that part of the repentance process is confession. And that the purpose of repentance is to help lighten our souls of the burdens of sin. But I resent that he looks so happy when I feel like crap.

And I had to stop myself because I couldn't do that to myself at church....with all of those people looking at me...not because they would judge me....but because I didn't want to have to explain. It's not my sin to confess and he shouldn't be judged by them.

So I shut off again. I went to church and I felt robotic. But I was cracking and I couldn't hold it together....not all the way. I looked straight ahead when the tears over flowed from my eyes. I didn't wipe them away because I knew that would call attention to them. I just let them dry on my cheeks as I stared at the numbers indicating which hymns would be sung. I tried not to listen to the speakers because I had to be shut off. I had to stop the cracks. I had to be strong and push through.

I avoided most people. I sat in a corner and tried to keep my mouth shut. I overshared a bit and got a little emotional in Relief Society....but it was alright...no one seemed to notice much.

And I came home with a head ache...and a heart ache....

He went to his meeting with the bishop. And I tried to lay down for a nap. That's where I was when he came home.

He wanted to talk, but I told him I couldn't. I listened as he described his meeting with the bishop. It was good. They both cried. They had a plan. I'm glad for that.

He again said he wanted to talk to me. That he could see I was hurting and more than anything that is what hurts him the most.

And the walls started to crack again.

I told him that I didn't want to talk to him because I didn't want to say anything that would hurt him. I appreciate that he is trying to change and that he wants to be better....but I have a right to be hurt. I am justified in being angry. And there are thing that are going through my mind that would hurt him...things like:

• I don't know if I can be married to someone that lies to me.
• I think his habit is vile
• I don't trust him.
• I don't know how we could ever have sex again.
• I love him and I pity him but I hate him for his part in driving away the Spirit from our home.
• I don't want him to baptize our son.
• He has put me in a position where I no longer have access to the priesthood because I don't trust that he is worthy to exercise it but I can't ask anyone else for them to give me a blessing without betraying his secret.
• He lied. The bastard lied.

As a side note...I don't swear....ever...but that is the word that kept running through my mind....and I'm trying to be raw and honest.

I didn't say any of those things to him. What I did tell him is how much I hate myself for being stupid...for allowing myself to turn into my mother. I hate myself for letting him break me. I hate that I'm suddenly completely alone with no one to talk to. I've got nothing. I don't have family or close friends...and normally that doesn't bother me...but I could really use someone to help keep me on my feet...to make excuses for me and to pick up some of my slack...just for a day....just a day for me to rest and regroup and figure out and prepare for whatever comes next.

You know...its funny because I feel hurt and I feel hopeless. And I teared up a little just typing that because that's how I feel....I wasn't able to identify the feeling before....but I feel hopeless. But I forgive him. I just hate that we have to now deal with all of the consequences of his actions. Its been 2 day and I'm already exhausted. I don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to worry about if I can trust him. I don't want to think about the disgusting things in his head. And I don't want to rebuild our relationship after he spent 10 years destroying it. I just don't want to do the work. My head hurts from crying. And when my eyes seem like they burn with how dry they are and I think I couldn't possibly cry anymore....I manage to produce fresh tears. I just feel hopeless.

I've cried in ways that I haven't cried since I was 16 and dateless and penniless and my father tried to kick me out. I feel like I am standing on that same precipice....like I've been climbing for so long only to find that there is nothing more except to fall off the cliff and start climbing a new mountain. And that sucks because now I'm not 16; I'm 30, and I come with a lot more baggage.

So now you are all caught up. That's my story so far. That's everything...all of the ugly details. And now I think I can start to heal.