Two Years

We're coming up on the two year anniversary of D-Day. Sometimes it feels like that was such a long time ago. And other times, I remember every detail of that day like it was yesterday.

So much has happened in the last two years.

When I think back to my expectations (those silly things) about what my life would look like two years after D-Day, I realize that my life really doesn't look at all how I expected. I thought, hoped, stupidly expected, whatever you want to call it, that maybe Husband would be finished with his 12 steps, and our marriage would be better than ever. I thought that I would be finished with my 12 steps as well. I thought that the word addiction would be a fading memory, and that we would have moved on to better things. I thought that my personal relationship with God would be strengthened by this trial, and I would remain committed to the Catholic church. Instead, Husband is still formally working through his first step (although he has gone through disclosure with me and Therapist), I am struggling through my third step, and addiction is still very much in the forefront of our daily thoughts and conversations. I struggle to remain open to God's presence in my life. I have lingering anger towards my church. I still question why this had to happen.

I do have a lot to be grateful for over the last two years. Husband is in recovery for sure. I am also in recovery. After the worst summer in the history of summers last year and a 9-ish month separation, we're in a state of reconciliation with one another.

But there remain many unanswered questions about our future. The biggest one being whether or not our marriage can survive. Sure, we get along, we communicate (sort of, kind of, note very well), we have healthy boundaries, but we still very much live as peaceful acquaintances. That's great for stability in our household, I'm just not sure that I'm attracted to Husband anymore in a romantic way. I am proud of him for the work he's done, for changing his life, and for being committed to our family. There are fleeting moments of attraction, but I worry that the damage of addiction can't be fully repaired. And if I'm being completely honest, if it wasn't for Child, we wouldn't still be married.

 I get sad when I think about how my feelings towards Husband have changed as a consequence of addiction. I used to think that Husband was amazing. And those qualities that made me think he was amazing are still there, and I see them more and more every day. But I don't still think that way about Husband. I hope that this changes, and I do believe that I have to continue to make the choice to love and accept if I am going to move forward in the marriage.

Two years...filled with some of the lowest lows, but also filled with change and personal growth. I'm still sad for what I've lost, but I'm not giving up hope for the future.

Eating My Words

Remember yesterday when I was all gung-ho about accepting and appreciating the fact that I am a working mother? That those heart-wrenching moments only surface occasionally? I take it all back.

I am an utter mess today. Yesterday was my child's first day at a new school. It went really, really well. No tears and happy stories heard at the dinner table last night. This morning, not so much. "I don't want to go to school! I want to stay home with you mommy! I want you, mommy, not my teacher!" [Insert breaking mommy's heart here.]

Drop off at school today consisted of crying and clinging from us both. I didn't want to leave Child just as much as Child didn't want to leave me. Child cried, I cried. It was a complete disaster. So now I am sitting at my office desk, still a mess, and feeling like the most horrible mom on the planet. I wish I could explain to him why it has to be this way. Why mommy has to work so that he can have a place to live and food to eat. Why mommy just can't stay home because daddy hasn't been able to hold a job, or be responsible, or take an active role in the family finances. How mommy's number one dream growing up was to be a stay-at-home mommy, and this isn't her dream. Her dream was not to go to work and drop off her crying child at school.

Child cried in the beginning at the previous school too, but by the time we left, Child was crying because of missing school and wanting to go back. I pray that this happens here too.

THOSE blogs

Do you read THOSE blogs? You know, the ones that project an image of a perfectly happy family with the beautiful stay-at-home mom? They have a nice house, they have perfectly dressed kids, the husband is always giving compliments, flowers, and cooking dinner? The ones where the wife goes to coffee with friends while her kids are in school, is a champ at Pinterest DIY projects, and always manages to make gourmet dinners from scratch?

I used to read them all the time. I wanted to be like them. I wanted my life to look like that. I tried to make my life picture perfect.

And then I found out that I am married to an addict. I've been cheated on, betrayed, lied to, and deceived for my entire marriage. I began boycotting THOSE blogs, because I felt completely inadequate when I read them. I felt guilty for being a working mother, for canceling gatherings with friends, for not being able to cook, for forgetting to take the perfect pictures of my child each month. Then I discovered the blogs of women whose husbands were also being swallowed up by addiction. These women were so real. So honest. Their lives weren't picture perfect, by any means. But they were fighting. Trying to keep afloat, take care of their kids, and manage the impossible emotions that come with knowing their husbands were living a double life. I started to realize that THOSE blogs may be projecting only the pretty parts of people's lives. Their reality may have lots of dark places like mine. And even if their reality is truly picture-perfect, I am thankful for my own reality.

For so long I resented the fact that I had to be the primary breadwinner. I felt like I got a raw deal. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Husband had promised to provide for the family, and he did not follow through on that promise. My heart ached when I read blogs about stay-at-home moms doing special projects with their kids. But the truth is that being the primary breadwinner gave me many options when I found out that Husband was an addict. I didn't have the burden of worrying about looking for a job or trying to make ends meet. It gave me freedom to make choices that I otherwise couldn't have made. It allowed me to provide for my child, regardless of Husband. And although there are some days where those heart-wrenching feelings surface, I feel lucky to be a working mother. I know that I am doing the absolute very best for my child.

So I may not be the picture-perfect stay-at-home mom, but I care just as much if not more about my child's well being. My life is messy, and certainly not Pinterest worthy. But it's full of love and devotion. And I hope that in the end, that's what really matters.

Successes and Failures

After having one of those days, where one innocent email at work sent me into a spiral of negative thinking, I tried to start my day with positive thinking. I reminded myself of my successes at work, my ability to do my job well, and my strong work ethic. And then I let go.

I then proceeded to have a huge success at work this morning. In fact, I was feeling so pumped up after my success that I decided that I needed a reward. So I went and bought myself a nice lunch that probably contained enough calories to meet my quota for the whole day, if not two whole days.

And I felt the spiral coming back, this time telling me that because I ate one unhealthy meal, I was likely going to become overweight. And then I would become obese. And then my Husband wouldn't be attracted to me. And my co-workers would judge me. And then I would lose my friends. And my job.

It seems so silly when I type out my thoughts, but it doesn't seem so silly when they are in my head.

I need to do a little cognitive adjustment here.

I had a success at work. It was perhaps not the best idea to reward myself with food, because I am working towards using food in a healthy way to simply nourish my body. But, I generally eat healthy. I generally take care of my body.

Successes and failures are part of life. And I am OK.

Message Of The Day

Today at church, the priest spoke about doing the hard things that help draw us closer to God. He gave two examples of things we might consider doing.

1. Work towards rebuilding trust with someone who has broken it.

2. Forgive someone who has wronged you and move forward with your life and your relationship.

Ouch.

Tough pills to swallow for the wife of a recovering addict.

I haven't forgiven and I don't work on trust. It's easier for me to not forgive because it gives me a sense (false sense, perhaps) of protection against addiction. It's easier for me to not notice when Husband is being trustworthy because then I don't have to put myself in a place of vulnerability.

Things for me to consider...

My Dad

Growing up, I had a hard time understanding my dad. When I was little, he was a bit stern. He spanked us and yelled at us, especially my brother, who was known for his amazing temper tantrums. My dad wasn't around much. He worked constantly to try to make ends meet, always gone on evenings and weekends.

As I got older, I got to know my dad more and discovered that we were just alike in so many ways. I have always had a very different personality than my mom, we both recognized this early on because it created lots of problems for us. But I knew that I could always count on my dad to understand me. He understood why I didn't want to be the center of attention, why crowds made me nervous, why reading books about anything and everything was a perfect way to spend free time.

There's something else we had in common. Distance. My perception is that both me and my dad preferred to be comfortably distant from people, lest we risk entering into a moment of vulnerability.

This has changed in the past few years. My dad was the one who came to be with me and help me make tough decisions when I was in a state of shock after D-Day. He has also, over the years, become much more contemplative. He's been through an enormous transformation of his faith, even changing careers because of it. Many people in his community look to him for guidance in matters of faith, and even more people look to him as a kind and loving friend.

But today, I want to talk about my dad as a champion of our cause. He has the kind of job where he has a regular audience, listening intently to what he has to say. And he's started to discuss the uncomfortable stuff, the stuff no one wants to talk about. He's started writing and speaking about the negative effects of pornography, of a sexualized culture, of the lack of respect for women as more than their looks. And I think it might be even harder for him, as a man, to speak about these topics than it is for me, as a woman (and he's not even doing it anonymously!).

There was a time when I didn't understand my dad. I didn't understand his distance, and I didn't know enough about his difficult childhood to understand.

But my dad today is my fellow warrior in this fight. And this is one of the greatest blessings I could have ever imagined.

God Bless the Freaks

"God Bless The Freaks"

...said a bumper sticker I saw on my morning run.

This might be my new favorite phrase. I've been called a freak in my life before, and it wasn't used  as a term of endearment. And although it can be used as a terribly hurtful word, freak isn't always used as a derogatory term.

The definition I like the best is: "An eccentric or nonconformist person, especially a member of a counterculture".

And that definition, that's me. And that's many wives and partners of sex addicts. After years of heartache and sometimes even physical manifestations of our mental anguish, we realize that porn, a sexualized culture, and casual sex are not OK. But this idea is counter to what our culture tells us. Our culture tells us that we should lighten up, just be more easy going, join our husbands in viewing porn, or be more sexually attractive. That should solve our problems.

Our boundaries, our loving detachment, our separations/divorces, and our abstinence are noncomformist and countercultural. But our refusal to accept a sex-obsessed culture has saved many of our lives, helped bring us out of depression, and led us to a greater relationship with God and ourselves. For some of us, it has even led us to a greater joy than we've ever experienced before.

My name is Eleanor, and I am proud to be a freak.

The Dreams That Haunt Me

Last Week

I'm so tired. I lay my head down on my pillow, and before I know it, I'm out. In a deep sleep. I see a garage sale. It's my garage sale, and my mom is helping me with it. I have finally decided to get rid of all of the baby stuff I have been storing. I decide to let it go since I will not get to have more children. I go inside for a minute. I return to the garage and see a woman walking towards her minivan with my child's infant carseat. "Wait!" I say to my mom, standing beside me. "I wasn't ready to sell that!" My mom replies. "Oh, Eleanor, I didn't know so I went ahead and sold it to that nice woman."

The woman with the carseat turns back towards me. She is one of the women with whom Husband acted out. She gives me a smug, devilish grin. Her eyes, piercing with evil. As she opens the door to her minivan, I see several children, one of whom looks identical to my child. She throws the carseat into her minivan, laughs, and drives away. I scream out at her, but she keeps driving away. With my carseat. With my child. I fall to the grass and sob uncontrollably.

My alarm goes off. Thank goodness. The nightmares are returning.

Last Night

I have a good night. I have a real conversation with Husband, and then we part ways to go to sleep. I take a sleeping pill. The nightmares have tormented me for years. Sometimes a sleeping pill helps, but sometimes it doesn't stop the torture.

I'm in a dark house. I see a bruise on my arm. I know where it's from, it's from the same place as the bruises that cover my legs and my back. I don't remember the beatings, but I am convinced that Husband has done this to me. He walks out of a dark corner, saying nothing. I try to scream to someone to save me from this monster, but I have no voice. I run out of the house and down the street, where I see my aunt. She's the only one who knows what I know. She knows where the bruises come from. Everyone else dismisses them and thinks I'm crazy. But she knows. I scream out to her, this time finding my voice. But Husband catches up to me, picks me up and carries me back to the dark house. I sob in the dark. More bruises appearing on my body.

My alarm goes off. I feel exhausted. Maybe it's time for another trip to the doctor.

So, How Was Your Day?

I'm toying around with an idea, and I'd love to hear others' opinions on it.

Husband and I have a difficult time connecting with each other. Surprise, surprise, right? But it's not just because of addiction. That's actually the only topic we can really have a genuine conversation about, other than conversations about our child (and thank the good Lord that we agree on parenting).

The rest of the stuff is hard. We will get excited about spending some quality time together, but then we don't really know what to do with ourselves. We have the "How was your day?" conversation, and then we talk about surface topics like the weather and our schedules. And then we're done. And I think it's as much of my problem with communication if not more my problem with communication than his. I clam up. I don't share anything. It's a problem we've both had since we've known each other, but these days, it's more of Husband asking me to communicate with him and me shutting down.

It's strange how that happens. I've been told in my professional life that I am an excellent communicator, very comfortable speaking in front of a crowd. But that's easy for me. I can talk for hours about my professional work. Because it isn't personal. It isn't a conversation about feelings. It isn't a conversation that involves vulnerability.

I decided to start reading a book on communication in marriages to help me understand how to communicate. And so far the book is great, but very difficult to absorb and even more difficult to practice. Usually I read when Husband reads his recovery stuff in the evenings, and then I go to bed without sharing anything with him.

So I'm wondering if maybe we should read a book together and talk about it as we read. I wonder if it wouldn't be so easy to shut down if I had some material in front of me to talk about with Husband. And even better if the material has to do with communication. But I've never done anything like this before. I don't know if Husband would be open to this, but based on his requests lately to have more time set aside for the two of us to communicate, he likely would think this is a great idea.

But I don't know. Anyone else read books together as a couple? I don't know why, but it sort of seems cheesy to me. Then again, most of personal communication to me seems cheesy because I'm not very talented in that area (like the formal dialogue we do in therapy, awkward!).

Any opinions?

Maybe I'm Powerless After All

As a follow-up to some of my thoughts earlier this week, I came to a realization.

Although I have admitted powerless over Husband's addiction, I have not admitted powerlessness over his choices in other areas. And, the root of the problem seems to center on money.

I am entirely too focused on Husband's financial situation. And I still enable him as well. I'm learning that I haven't set the appropriate boundaries. I am still clinging to the notion that I can control Husband's spending if I just get mad at him enough. And that statement is false. SO false. Nothing I say or do changes his ways. And his spending has increased as his sexual sobriety has increased. So I have fears that he is transferring one compulsive behavior to another. Regardless, I have to accept that I cannot control his money choices.

But, in accepting my powerlessness, I do need to set appropriate boundaries so that his choices do not interfere with my financial well-being or my child's well-being. I have enabled this for far too long by allowing him to pay what is much less than his fair share of household expenses so that he can chip away at his debt. But he has chosen to not chip away at his debt and instead has used the money for additional purchases. So it has to stop. Time for some healthy boundaries.

1. Husband makes a certain percentage of what I do. Therefore, he will need to contribute that percentage of money towards our joint household expenses, regardless of how much he owes in his name to other people.

2. I will not sign my name on any joint expenses, nor add my credit score to boost his ability to make purchases.

3. I will not ask him about his financial status.

The more I realize that many of my fears stem from my financially-chaotic upbringing, the more I realize how I have let Husband's choices keep me in the fear cycle. But today this will stop. I cannot focus on Husband and continue to move forward in my own recovery. I am wasting time worrying about Husband's choices when I could be using that time to pray and work on my own healing.

Confusion

Lately, I've wanted to write a lot about the character defects I see in Husband. I want to spew out lots of negative thoughts. I want to share details of his most shameful acts. I've written posts, kept them as drafts, posted them and then deleted them. Clearly, there is some indecisiveness at work here. Some days, I feel as though I am justified in criticizing Husband because that's just reality. There are things he does that drive me crazy. Other days, I feel as though I am focusing too much on things over which I cannot control when I zoom in on things I do not like about Husband. So I've been reflecting a bit on why.

Why do I want to criticize Husband so badly? Is it because of anger? Is it because of fear? A combination of anger and fear? Or, is it possibly because thinking about the bad things justifies the way I push him and everyone close to me away?

I'm coming to realize that this may have little to do with addiction and a lot to do with everything else. You see, Husband is currently in solid recovery. He regularly talks to his sponsor, works his steps, goes to meetings, reads literature, and works to repair the damage he's done to the family. He apologizes frequently, expresses his appreciation for me letting him live in the same house as us, and takes on most of the household duties.

I got what I wanted. Now what?

As it turns out, Husband's sobriety has not miraculously "fixed" our relationship. And I think that his recovery is actually bringing to light many of the issues we face as a couple that go much deeper. Like my need to escape anytime I feel that we are moving towards some greater level of intimacy.  Husband's lingering sense of entitlement, especially when it comes to material possessions. Both of us clinging to the notion that comfortably distant is the best way to be in a relationship.

Of course, Husband's past behavior has completely exacerbated some of our issues, but it's not as though the issues were not there prior D-Day.

I think that sometimes I want to focus on Husband's bad qualities as a way to justify not working on my part in the marriage. But I have good reasons to stay distant. I have been terribly hurt in the past. I have a reason to be wary of any kind of vulnerability in this relationship.

Ultimately, though, if I choose to continue to stay in this marriage, there are risks I will eventually need to take. Amends to be made. Intimacy to be restored.

I guess I'm just not sure I'm ready to move forward. Yet.

Running The Mad Out

I've been a runner since junior high. I started running with my mom to get healthier because both me and her were overweight. I continued running through high school, joining the cross country and track team. I was never fast, I always finished middle of the pack. But, I loved running. There was a time when I used it in an unhealthy way, just as I have used food in an unhealthy way, but for the most part, running has been my constant companion for stress relief through the years.

After high school, I started to train and run marathons with my mom. This was one of the only ways that we could connect in a healthy way at the time, and I cherished those long, exhausting runs with her. We continued to run races together until I got pregnant and running became too difficult. But I was determined to get back to my stress-reducing hobby after my child was born. And I did. It took me a while, and I was much slower than I was pre-baby, but I was back out running.

And then there came a time where addiction ruined running for me.

I trained really hard for a half-marathon, it was to be my first race after having my child. I put a lot of work into getting my body stronger, and although I was still carrying extra weight, I felt really great about how I was able to work myself back up to long-distance running. Husband was a little bit resentful while I was training. He didn't like that I got up early on Saturday mornings to go run because that meant that he couldn't sleep in and instead had to take care of Child. But when the race day came, my husband planned to come cheer me on with Child. He told me that he would be there early, with signs. Afterwards, we would walk to one of our favorite restaurants and celebrate.

I was feeling great the day of the race, and it went very smoothly, even though it was my worst time ever. I was so elated after the race. I felt strong, thankful, and happy. But I didn't see Husband, so I waited around near the finish line. Eventually, he showed up, flustered and angry. Child was with him, but he forgot the stroller and Child's bag, so he was tired from carrying Child to the finish line. We didn't have what we needed to stay in the area after the race and go to the restaurant, so instead we just went home. I was disappointed in Husband's lack of enthusiasm, but I also felt guilty because I wasn't really running to get praise from Husband. I was doing it for myself. So maybe it was prideful for me to expect Husband to make a big deal of it.

Fast forward a week, otherwise known as D-Day. As I sifted through years of deceit on the computer, I realized that Husband was late to the race because he had spent the morning feeding his addiction. He was angry and flustered because he didn't want to leave his addiction to come see his wife.

So I quit running. I couldn't run without having visions of who Husband was talking to and what he was saying while I was out running. It ruined all of the strength and emotional well-being I had gained training for that race. I didn't run for over a year.

When I kicked Husband out of the house a while back, I started running again. I decided that addiction was not going to ruin something that had brought me so much peace and serenity over the years. Addiction was NOT going to ruin my well-being and health. But I had SO much anger. So I would go and run until I felt like I got the "mad" out. I would run until I no longer felt angry. It was so empowering to gain my strength back, and I started to again love running the way I used to before D-Day.

My new house is in a location where I can run out my front door and go for miles on sidewalks and paved paths. I've gone for a run every day since we moved. I am going to be training for another race. I am going to replace my traumatic running memories with new ones. Healthy ones.