The Letter; Part 2

So, in my previous post, I copied a letter written by a marriage and family therapist who specializes in pornography issues. I think the letter is a great start and a creative way to help emphasize to male religious leaders how serious the issue is not just to the offender but to their wife and family as well.  However, I think it is a bit deficient. I read it originally about 6 months ago when it was handed to me, and while I appreciated the effort then, it didn't really grab at me. I mindlessly folded up the paper and stuck it in my bag. I stumbled across it yesterday and read it again. This time, I saw so much that it left out. It felt passionless and false. I felt like I needed to write my own letter. So here it is...my letter:

 Dear Husband,

You came to me and admitted your continuing struggle with pornography. And as much as I appreciated your honesty and your desire to change, your admission has thrown me into an emotional tailspin that I am struggling to really pull out of.

I am writing this letter to you because I need you to know how I feel and what I am thinking, but I am not able to communicate these through words because my words are often clouded by my love for you. I look at you and I see the man that I married. I see the man that you can be. I see a husband and father. I see someone who has succumbed to the power of Satan and who is fighting to be different. I admire you and love you and pity you. And when I open my mouth to tell you of the pain and anguish in my own soul and heart, I can't do it. I hate the idea of bringing you more pain. I hate the idea of giving you another burden when you have born this burden for so long alone. But you need to know. The Lord has commanded us to be one; to bear one another's burdens. And I can't do this alone. I need you to hold my hand because you are not the only one who needs to heal.

I feel hurt. I feel betrayed. I feel angry. And I feel afraid. What you have done is abhorrent and vile to me. I try to imagine it so that I can understand it, but I can't even imagine it because it makes me shudder in disgust. I hate that you brought such horrible things into our home. I hate that you defiled the intimate parts of our relationship with these base and objectifying and selfish images and act. I hate whatever part of you took over and brought you to a place where you were okay with seeking out such wickedness.

I hate that you lied to me. I hate that you lied to me not once and not just by omitting information, but you lied to me purposefully and regularly and to my face. I hate that by lying to me, you made me feel like I was the one in the wrong. In those days when I saw the signs of your abuse and I confronted you, you attacked me and made me feel foolish. In those days, I wondered what was wrong with me. In those days, I beat myself up. I allowed you to distance yourself from me because I was the one being clingy and ridiculous. I distanced myself because I thought it was what you wanted. And I allowed you to blame me when I was hurt by your distance.

I hate that I'm suspicious all the time. I hate that the idea of your sin is stuck in my mind and I can't un-know it. I hate that tears well up in my eyes when I go upstairs and you don't follow me. I hate that I don't trust you to have privacy at all when I know that we all need some to a certain degree. I hate that I no longer trust you to perform your priesthood duties because I don't know if you are worthy or not. I hate that I'm now stuck wondering what else you could have lied to me about. I hate what you have done. And I hate that statistically, it will probably happen at least once more as we walk down this road to recovery.

I have done all of the reading. I've researched and studied and prayed. I know that this is not my fault, that I couldn't have done anything to prevent it.  I know that you still find me attractive, that you love me and care about me. I know that you want to be better. But I still can't help hating myself. I suddenly feel so alone. I feel isolated and stupid and angry. I feel like someone suddenly took away the light from my soul, and I am left groping in the darkness. I now carry the burden of your secret and your shame and have no one with which to share it because it is not my sin to confess.

You say that it doesn't change anything. That all of the happiness and love we have shared was real. But I can now see the taint of your sin on our memories. I see the stain of it on so many of our struggles. I see how it has affected me and you. I see how it has affected the Spirit that should be consecrating our home as a sanctuary from the world. And I see how without it, without the pornography, we can be better, our life can be better, our home can be better.

I need you to know that I forgive you. I will always forgive you. But I also need you to know that I have a right to be hurt. I am justified in being broken. You have broken my trust and my heart. And while I love you and desire to fix it, there are going to be scars that may take years to fade. That doesn't mean that I love you any less. It just means that while I recognize that you need to heal, I need you to recognize that I need to heal, too. And while I need to be patient with your recovery, I need you to be patient with mine. 

 I know that we can do this, you and I. Together with the power of the Atonement of Christ, we can get through this. Things will never be the same as they were a few weeks ago, but they can certainly be better.

 I truly and honestly love you with all of my heart. With all that I feel right now, that is what gives me hope. I love you. And I know that you love me.

 With faith and hope,

 Your Wife