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.