Contact Wounds

 My sister reached out to me this morning to tell me that her very good friend just discovered that her husband is likely a sex addict. She asked me if it is possible to experience second-hand trauma by walking through trauma with others, first me and now her good friend. She is struggling today to keep up hope that there are good men in this world. I fucking hate how vast the effects can be of one person's addiction and choices, infecting an entire family. No one deserves this. Certainly I did not deserve what I experienced, and I will likely spend the rest of my life healing. But the anger I feel at the ripple effects of my ex's actions. It burns so deep. Hurting me is one thing. But hurting me so much that my sister, by simply supporting me over the past decade, now struggles with PTSD symptoms as well? It sends waves of deep rage through my bones. 

A Letter to my Ex-Husband

It's been 8 years since I last posted. I forgot all about this blog that helped me through so many impossible situations. I could talk to others who were going through the same thing as me, but anonymously to protect my then husband as well as myself. The past 8 years have been filled with sadness, longing, happiness, and forgiveness. And an unnecessarily contentious divorce. I went from doing the bedtime routine and tucking my children in every night to locking myself in my home office turned bedroom at night for protection to moving to a new house to shared custody to financial ruin, and now....to peace that I've never felt before in my adult life. This is a letter to my ex-husband.

Dear Ex-Husband,

It's been more than 2 years since I filed for divorce. And more than 3 years since I decided that I couldn't possibly spend another ounce of energy trying to save our marriage. I remember the exact moment where I knew that I had no more to give. You had knee reconstruction surgery a few months earlier. I had set timers on my phone throughout the night to make sure I got you all your meds at the right time, filled your ice bucket just the way you wanted it, got you all of your meals in bed, did everythng in the house on my own, including cleaning up a disasterous basement flood. I wanted you to feel loved and cared for just how I would want anyone to feel after major surgery.

I had discovered a few months before your surgery that you had been lying about binging porn. I sobbed, told you I couldn't do it anymore. But then, as quick as I said that, I lost all fight in me and gave in. I told you I would just have sex with you any time you wanted it because I wanted you to stop being cruel to me, and I already hated myself, so why not add to the misery? After your surgery, I was reluctant to have sex, and that must have been what set you off. You gave me the silent treatment, which triggers feelings of abandonment and panic. So I reached out and asked what I had done. 

You told me that you did not think that I took good enough care of you after surgery, and that I was selfish to not want your mom to come to our house to take care of you better. You said that you were embarassed because once, when someone asked you if I was doting on you after surgery, you had to "shamefully say no, she's just taking care of the hourse and kids". You said that the final straw was that I expressed reluctance to join you at your parents' house for Christmas. I cried, and the only words I could get out were "I will do better". You were pleased. I packed all of us up and drove us to your parents for Christmas. I served you dinner and took your plate, just like your mom did for your dad and your sister-in-law did for your brother. I laughed at your jokes. I faked a smile. And that night, when I lied down next to our son to go to sleep, I took too many sleeping pills to turn off my brain in hopes that I might not wake up the next morning. But I did wake up. And I drove you and the kids back home. As I drove those 5 hours, I realized that if I wanted to live, I needed to stop living for you and live for myself and our kids. I never kissed you again after that, never had sex with you, never had a vulnerable conversation, never googled yet again "how to tolerate a dead marriage".

I filed for divorce several months after that, after praying and begging God to help you do something, anything, to make it possible for us to stay living in the same house. Not because I wanted to stay in the marriage. I did not. But I thought at the time that children having to live in two houses was the worst possible outcome. Ultimately, though, I realized that our children watching their mother be mistreated was worse than them living in two different hourses. When I filed for divorce, you harrassed me at night via text, you bullied me, proclaiming that you are getting the house no matter what, and as you had threatened me to do 10 years earlier when I had wanted to file for divorce, you used your parents' money to fight me for custody of our two amazing children.

As I come out of the fog and into my new life, there are some things that I want to say to you.

Remember early in the divorce proceedings when you wrote that I had "chronic health issues" and "chronic fatigue"? I did have those things while I was married to you. Gastritis, gluten intolerance, GERD, chronic migraines and fatigue, depression and anxiety. Do you know how many diagnoses I have now? None. I haven't had a single episode of feeling like my stomach was on fire, not a single migraine, I take no medications for GERD, and I don't need sleeping pills to sleep.

Remember how you thought that I "did not engage with the kids"? I was reluctant to tell you that the reason that you didn't see me joining in when you were doing something with the kids is because I was afraid. You were the star of the show, I was in the background trying to just be good enough and do the right things that you would approve of. I am and have always been sensitive to teasing. It was too much pressure, so I opted out. I'm not sure you ever in all of our years together heard me belt out a song while dancing or do anything remotely that carefree or silly. But the kids now know the words to 90's pop songs that I belt out while cooking dinner and dancing in the kitchen.

Remember how you told me that I did not know how to garden properly? You should see my wild and creative organic backyard gardens now. There are murals on the walls of the garage, the kids painted the fence in rainbow colors and get to grow whatever plants they want, and the flowers...I wish you could see the flowers. They bring me so much joy.

And remember those moments where I just sobbed to you, begging you to be honest with me, to choose me, to love me and only me? I am in a relationship now where I do not have to prove my love. My quirks, my creativity, my intense hobbies, these are positive things in someone else's eyes. We have open, honest conversations, we cry with each other, we work as a team to lift each other up instead of tearing each other down. Sex is not the core of our relationship. Friendship is.

One thing that has always been especially hard for me is knowing that you will never truly understand what it was like for me to live a life where I really did not have access to my own reality. I never knew and will never know what was real and what was deceit in our marriage. I do not know how many times you cheated on me, lied to me, or deceived me. I do not know which times you meant it when you said you loved me, or if you ever meant it at all. I do not know if you married me just to use me for your own gain. My past with you is a giant question mark, and that is something I have to live with every day. The only thing I have to go on is the words you spoke to me. You told me that you thought I was clueless, I was boring, unengaging, didn't give you enough attention. But what you didn't know is just how much effort I put into just trying to survive each day.

I do and always will wish for you happiness and healing. Not for your own sake, but because our children deserve so much more than what they witnessed during our marriage. I will work every day from now until the day I die to heal the broken parts of me so that I can help our children heal the broken parts of them. 

Sincerely, Eleanor