Rational Thought

Continued from here and then here...

Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy.

I had tried every possible method to convince my husband to get better. I had worked for a year to try harder and beg more. I put my foot down countless times in anger. Trying to convince myself that this time it would make him stop acting out. And, of course, none of that worked.

Never once did I consider surrendering the situation to God. I know now that I never had any control to begin with, but at the time, I acted as though I was self-sufficient. Besides, even the existence of a higher power was, at best, a shaky concept.

So imagine my surprise when I decided to give up on my marriage, to stop trying, that my husband found some sobriety. His newfound recovery didn't make sense. I had made my decision. Me, myself, and I had assessed the situation, decided there was no hope, and resigned. And I was wrong.

It was really, for me, the first time I really had to wave the white flag and admit that I was not in control. Of outcomes, of other people, of situations.

The only possible way to explain what I witnessed in my husband is that it was a miracle. I couldn't rationalize it.

And it not only blew my mind, it made me angry...

Spiritual Darkness

Continued from here...

I got so lost in trying to sort through what was right and wrong in my own situation and focused so much on trying to "do it right" and make my marriage fit in the Catholic rule books. I wavered between feeling like I had to get an annulment to feeling like I was an evil sinner by being on birth control to feeling like Church doctrine was useless. It was after many sessions worrying about the rules, and feeling in between a rock and a hard place, that my therapist said, Eleanor, the rules make sense for couples of healthy mind, body, and spirit. You are doing the best you can in circumstances that don't make sense right now. Don't focus so much on the rules, focus on your safety, security, and healthy boundaries. Do the best you can, and you will find the answers you need.

I took my first deep breath in months after hearing those words. I tried my best to heed her advice and focus on my own healing, knowing that the answers would come in time. But patience and tolerance of mental discord are not my best qualities. So it was a rough road.

Little by little, I tried to accept a future that might include no more children. And no more marriage. I tried so desperately to accept that I was experiencing a spiritual darkness rather than trying so hard to reason my way out of it. I started working to appreciate even more the gift of the child I was able to have. Learning from my 12-step group to practice an attitude of gratitude. Not easy. And I failed a lot. But I did start to experience more joy, even in the midst of darkness.

And then my reality started to change. The husband I gave up on started to reappear. And he was calmer. His face more solemn and less angry. His behavior more predictable, and his presence more safe. Month after month of consistency, apologies, and accountability.

And that's when everything got scary...

A Fragile Conversion Story

Sometimes the experiences I hold most dear are the most difficult to share. At the risk of feeling vulnerable, this is the story of a conversion that is in the making.

When we were first married, we agreed that I was not going to use contraception. We successfully used natural family planning techniques to avoid pregnancy. Unfortunately, I used it as an excuse to avoid intimacy, and Husband used it as an excuse to resent me.

When D-Day happened, I was angry at a lot of things, including the Catholic Church's teachings on sexuality, at least what I knew of them at the time. I felt as though natural family planning left me exposed and used. In addition to closing off sexual intimacy with my husband for obvious reasons, I also closed off fertility completely by going on birth control. I had always wanted to be open to life and have several children if possible, and we had been discussing trying to have another child right before D-Day. I was bitter and resentful for the loss of that dream. I blamed our marriage troubles and the addiction, in part, on following church teaching on sexual intimacy.

I remained bitter towards the Church and kept my fertility shut off for almost three years. I thought that only a miracle would convince me to change my mind.

To be continued...

Say It Out Loud

When I'm having a difficult time with something, my natural tendency is to turn inward. To shut off communication, "hide out" doing projects, or get lost in the world of imaginary play with my son. 

So let me tell you a little secret that took me years of therapy to figure out: Always turning inward doesn't really work that well as a long-term strategy for dealing with conflict in relationships.

It's been a week of transition for our family. Transitions are hard for people without significant life stressors, so that means that for a recovering addict, they are nearly impossible. Thankfully, this transition has been less bumpy than in years past. But still pretty bumpy. Filled with the kind of crazy-making behavior to which many wives of recovering addicts can relate.

I'm learning that I don't have to always silently suffer through the headaches, stomach pains, and insomnia that are often the side effects of turning inward.

I can turn outward because I am healthier. I can share my emotions with a safe person. And against all odds, my husband happens to be on the safe person list at this point in my life.

I can say that I'm feeling empty this week. I feel vulnerable, hurt, and lonely. These used to be such terrifying emotions to let myself feel, let alone express to another human being. I thought that they ruined everything. They signaled the inevitable demise of whatever relationship with which they were associated.

But they are starting to become a regular vocabulary of emotions for me thanks to my handy emotion charts and lots of practice. They are a little less scary. These types of emotions don't indicate that my marriage is doomed, or that either one of us is a failure.

They just mean that we're going through a transition.

Watching The Minutes

I should be sleeping by now. The minutes on the clock tell me that it's past midnight. Where did my rock star sleeping skills go? I used to nap every weekend and get nine hours of sleep each night.

No problem.

I know exactly when I had my first real bout of insomnia. It was two days after D-Day. I stayed up for almost three days with only a few hours of sleep before my body finally gave in.

Is it the nightmares, or better yet, the fear of nightmares that keeps my eyes open? Sometimes. I had nightmares before D-Day. It's always been a thing for me. But now they are more vivid. More jarring.

Is it fear or anxiety? Maybe. I still have fears and anxiety, but I can't remember a time in my adult life when I have felt as much peace as I do lately.

Is it trauma residue that needs to be explored? Possibly. I think that for me, there will always be healing and growing work to do.

Medication helps sometimes. I've tried most sleeping concoctions out there. I don't drink caffeine in the evening, I have a comfortably cool bedroom, I have a fan to drown out noise, I listen to relaxing music, take a bubble bath, drink hot (decaffienated) tea. I thank God for the gift of serenity and pray that God will show me what it is that I need to discover through this particular challenge. I ask for the gift of nightmare-free sleep.

And then I lie down in bed and watch the minutes.

From The Mouth Of My Babe

My husband and I are both working hard to create a healthy partnership and a safe and loving environment for our son. I'm so grateful to be in this place, despite all of the heartache and setbacks.  But like most couples, we sometimes fight the same battles over and over again without resolution. The division of household chores is one of them.

I recently assigned my son regular chores with a very small allowance to teach him about family responsibility and help him understand how money works. So when I overheard the following conversation today, I had to giggle.

Son: Daddy, what are your family chores?
Husband: Ummm, I sometimes do the laundry.
Son: But why don't you do more chores like me and mommy?
Husband: (looking over his shoulder towards me) Busted.