Cancer of the soul

My husband has a childhood friend who is dying of cancer. It is heartbreaking in every way. He has three young kids, a wife that adores him, and is a good man. They've tried everything, and it has been a long battle, but it looks like it may draw to a close within the next year.

I can't even begin to imagine the pain, heartbreak, and desperation they feel. I know their testimonies have been strengthened. I know they have given it everything they have and they have a long road ahead of them still. It isn't fair. Not in any way.

The one, small silver lining is that they have learned to appreciate the present and never waste a moment. They are busy making memories together. In fact, there are a number of charitable groups that have provided them with trips to Hawaii, Jackson Hole, and more, just so they can make memories as a family. People have organized fundraising softball tournaments and dinners. Neighbors stop by and bring dinner, tend their kids, and provide a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. They have felt an outpouring of love from their community, and they deserve it.

For the record, I would never want to be in their shoes. Ever. My heart truly aches for them as they experience the ongoing pain of chemo, tests, bad news, and the constant passing of time.

The thing is....sometimes I feel like my home is being invaded by a spiritual cancer. This addiction crept in long before either of us realized what it was. It grew in secret and isolation. It's ugly symptoms took over and changed everything, and we're both left feeling hopeless and scared. It eats away at love, trust, intimacy, confidence, and our entire family life. It is destroying our souls.

There is no cure.

We weep behind closed doors. We petition the Lord for help. I spend hours scouring the Internet, trying to find some bit of information that can help. Maybe this therapist? Maybe that book? Maybe a new program? We try to live a "normal" life and put on a happy face at family events so nobody will know about this soul-cancer. We joke around with friends as if stealing the bedcovers is the biggest sticking point in our marriage.

After a new lie is discovered I look around in despair at my messy house, my demanding children, my church calling, and my part-time job, and I die even more inside. My head and my heart are a mess of emotions and pain. Trying to fix waffles for my kids, while keeping my back to them as silent tears stream down my face, drains the last bit of energy that I have. I wish desperately that someone would show up on my doorstep with a casserole, some cleaning supplies, a fun game for my kids, or even just a hug.

But no one comes. The shame of this addiction silences my cries for help. The fear of judgment, the fear of not feeling safe, my pride - all keep me from telling people what is really going on in my life. I even sugar-coat things for the ladies in my 12-step group, because I feel like my pain and my challenges don't compare to some of the things they've endured, so how can I ask for something from them? I feel alone, even though I know there are others in my shoes.

All my memories with my husband are tainted. Everything, even the birth of my children, is changed by the knowledge of his lies and betrayals. I wonder if we can ever make new memories, clean from the darkness this addiction brings.

There is no cure for this...but there is healing. I am trying to heal. It feels like a fight. Some days it feels like too much, some days it feels like there is hope. I am trying to learn to live in the moment, not in the pain of the past or the fear of the future. I am trying to trust my God.

I am grateful we are not dealing with a devastating physical disease that could alter our lives forever. Please make no mistake about that. But sometimes, I wish that cancer of the soul would be recognized and supported, too. I wish there were no shame or judgment around it.

I wish someone would come to my door with a hug and a listening ear. A casserole wouldn't be bad either ;)

Lately

I've been thinking a lot about posting over the last few weeks, but I just haven't been able to do it. When I sit down to write, the words don't come. Same with my journal. There's no words willing to come out of my fingertips. Lately I feel like I feel everything, and I feel nothing. It seems impossible to package things up into a bundle of letters and words and sentences.

A couple of days ago the husband hit the 30 day sobriety mark. He talked about it a lot and gave me high fives and was really happy. Which was great! I was happy for him. But...why was he so happy about it this time around? I didn't get why it was different. Haven't we hit 30 days a bunch of times since we started pursuing recovery last fall? I was certain we were in about a 6-8 week relapse cycle.

I brought it up to him. And once again, we're living separate realities, unbeknownst to me. Aside from his first sobriety streak last fall, he can't remember ever having hit 30 days.

Ummm... what?

Over the last several months we've done the relapse cycle thing. Every time I discover something and call him out, he "comes clean". He makes speeches about honesty and commitment and on and on. And now he tells me he still wasn't totally honest. He was living with one foot in recovery and one still in the addiction. But, can he remember what was actually happening? Of COURSE not. He has no recollection of any of it. It's just this big guess as to what real life has been the last 6 months.

And naturally, he doesn't think it's that big of a deal, because look at how good he's been doing the last 30 days! Wheeee!!

I feel like I've been run over by a dump truck. I feel as traumatized as I did the first time I discovered any of this years ago. Because even though I realize he was lying to me for so many years, I kind of knew he was. It was the status quo. It sucks, but I understand he was just totally in his addiction.

But this time, we had a deal, you know? I thought last fall was a fresh start for us, in a way. I knew it would be tough. I knew there would be ups and downs. But I thought we were on the same page. I idiotically believed him when he said he had told me everything and he was committed to the truth and making me feel safe. I once again gave him the benefit of the doubt that he wouldn't really hurt me like that. I believed him! It's almost laughable now!

I can't believe anything anymore. I can't trust anything. I don't even know where to go from here. I alternate between feeling intense pain and absolutely numb.

I've been doing a lousy job of working my steps the last few weeks. A combination of busy-ness and change of schedule, plus laziness and wanting to live in denial that this is my life. This is the kick in the pants I need to get my head out of the sand and start facing reality again...whatever that actually is.

Grateful for gratitude

A recurring theme in recovery work is gratitude. Same thing in the church. A general authority gives a talk on trials and mentions gratitude as part of it. What?

I'm realizing, though, that all these people are on to something. Gratitude is a silver bullet that dispels the feeling of despair. It keeps a bad day from becoming a bad life. It keeps a bad moment in perspective, you know? Is it weird to say I am thankful for gratitude? Cuz I am.

Sometimes gratitude is a choice, and sometimes I feel like gratitude floods my veins when I least expect it. It is hard to choose gratitude in a bad moment. When your husband lies to you again and your world feels completely unsafe, it's hard to feel grateful that the sun was shining when it happened. But the times I've been able to do that, the stings of life are slightly less painful.

Today was one of those days where the gratitude seemed to spontaneously fill my heart. We got invited to a party to celebrate the end of the school year. I was nervous because we moved in just a couple of months ago and I hardly know anyone here, and I tend to be shy as it is. I didn't know who was hosting the party, but I thought it would be a great way to go and meet some friends.

As I pushed my toddler in the stroller and watched my new kindergarten graduate ahead of me on her scooter, I felt so grateful. The weather was perfect. I have these two beautiful, healthy, happy kids as my sidekicks. We live in a nice neighborhood with good people that are reaching out to us. I realized that even if my husband relapsed a couple of weeks ago...even if we had some of the worst fights we've ever had...even if my future is uncertain...that doesn't mean I have a bad life. My life is so full. I have so many other good things to be grateful for. So many good, kind people to fill it with. How lucky am I?

The older I get the more intense the highs and lows seem to become. Life gets pretty hard at times. But then other times it is so, so good. I'm trying to relish those times, be grateful for every little moment in them, so that when the trials come I can draw on the good memories and associated warm fuzzy feelings, and hopefully see the other good things around me too.

Healing steps

Over these many years of being aware of my husband's problem addiction, I never felt able to talk to anyone about it. It was my private, shameful struggle. How could I explain it to someone without them pitying me, criticizing me, blaming me, or telling me to leave him? None of those things helped. I was on my own.

There were times I wanted to talk to my bishop about it, since I felt like that was the one person obligated to listen to me. My addict husband wouldn't hear of it. He didn't want me advertising his secret. Probably even more, he couldn't accept that porn was not ok for me or our relationship. He wanted me to just get over it and be ok with it. If I pursued help, that meant I was serious about things not being ok.

This week I took ownership of my story and my recovery, finally. I had been feeling prompted to meet with my bishop, so I did. It was scary. I've never really done that before. Even worse, I had never even met my bishop! We moved into our ward a few months ago, and due to our church time and the size of our ward I've never spoken a word to our bishop. This totally wasn't how I wanted to get to know him, but hey, what can ya do?

The husband knew I was meeting with him and was supportive (yay for recovery). I've heard horror stories about meetings with bishops not going well - being blamed, chastised, or blown off. I was prepared for things to not go well. Thankfully, they went fine. It wasn't earth-shattering necessarily. My bishop seems to be a man of few words generally. But he listened and tried to empathize. He encouraged us to get some counseling and offered to have the ward help pay. He gave me a blessing. He asked us to meet with him together the next week. It was good. I felt good, because I felt brave.

Last night the husband and I met with him together. It was another brief meeting, but it was good because we went together. It was good because my husband had a good attitude. He was open and willing to do this as a team. At one point, he even volunteered the info of when he last acted out and what the bishop would like him to do in terms of sacrament and temple attendance. That was a surprise for me! We're going to get some counseling. We're going to have the bishop to be accountable to and to help us.

Keeping secrets is the worst. Keeping a secret that isn't even your secret but somehow becomes your secret is especially painful. Letting a secret both drag you down and tear you apart as a couple is ridiculous and heartbreaking. It doesn't have to be that way. Now that we've finally started TALKING, to each other and to other people, it feels like this secret isn't as powerful and shameful as we thought it was. Still, we have a long way to go, but I feel proud myself -- and of us.

Day by day

This last week has been the epitome of a roller-coaster week.

The previous weekend seemed nice with nice Mother's Day surprises.

Monday I discovered the porn viewed over the weekend and hidden from me, with multiple boundaries broken.

The next several days were spent in a rage. I sunk into a pit of despair. I seethed with anger. I stewed over how I was going to make it as a single mom.

Wednesday I let him in, just the tiniest bit, and we watched an addiction webinar together and tensely talked about a few things.

Thursday he messaged me to let me know he had acted out again. I tried to respond appropriately, but that night when he came home from work, it was the full-blown addict. No air of humility about him or gratitude that I was understanding earlier that day. He came home on the offensive, lashing out in his guilt and stress. He criticized, belittled, blamed, and acted arrogant and selfish.

I lost it. LOST. IT. I was angry about him acting out. I was even angrier at his entitled, selfish attitude and that he was attacking me unfairly. I yelled, I threw oven mitts, I smashed utensils on the counter. I shoved him once. I told him to get the divorce papers. I hated him. I felt utterly broken that night as things continued to worsen throughout the evening. I had asked him to leave, he didn't.

Friday morning I couldn't even bring myself to acknowledge him. But at some point, I felt pangs of guilt for my rage the day before. I emailed him to say sorry for my poor behavior and to explain some of my feelings. He promised he would be gone that night.

That night, he came home a different man. His eyes were soft again, not cold and steely and distant like the day before. He took care of the kids. He was helpful. Then, at about 9:30 pm, he packed a bag and got ready to leave. But....my anger was gone. What on earth was wrong with me? I wanted NOTHING to do with him ever again just 24 hours before. What had changed? I didn't want him gone really. I knew he didn't want to leave, but he was trying to respect my wishes.

I asked if he wanted to talk. He instantly dropped everything and came to sit beside me on the couch. We talked in kind tones. We were honest about our feelings. We came up with a plan to avoid angry outbursts in the future. He listened. He reached for my hand, and I let him. The "real" husband was back. I didn't make him leave that night, but he did still sleep in the basement.

Saturday was busy getting ready for a couples baby shower we were hosting that night. Things almost felt...back to normal? That wasn't right, was it? That's not how it was supposed to be. I didn't want to see him ever again, right?? But that day I was reminded of my own humanity and tendency to sin, and I was humbled.

Sunday I felt raw, needy. I needed love. I needed it from him - the very man that has caused so much fear and hurt. I turned to him and wanted him. It still feels crazy to me, but it feel like the right thing too.

I don't know what the future will bring, but right now, I'm trying to live one day at a time. It is confusing when each day feels so different. I don't know if the way I'm feeling is "right" or "wrong". But is there a right or wrong? It's just how I feel. I can't really control it, I can only respond to it in the healthiest way I know how.

Husband has a new sponsor that actually seems to be doing something. He started writing in a journal. Hopefully, this is a more permanent change. But, if it is not, I know what I need to do, and he knows what will happen also. Until then: one day at a time.

Red hot

My daughter has a book called "Today I Feel Silly". It is a cute story that chronicles the many moods that we go through: joy, anger, confusion, silliness, sadness, frustration, excitement, etc. In my experience with Betrayal Trauma, some days I feel like I cycle through every emotion at least once. It is exhausting.

Today, though, I just feel angry.

Deep, red-hot anger. I feel it churning in my stomach, creeping up my spine, and eating away at my brain. My muscles have been tense and twitchy. My breathing has been shallow.

Dealing with an addict is the most crazy-making experience on the planet. It's like dealing with a giant two year old - someone only in touch with their reality, their desires, and what they want. Someone prone to mood swings and being irrational. Except, the problem is, their adult mind is developed enough to know how to lie and manipulate and get what they want. It's an endless exercise in insanity.

I'm angry about all the lies. I'm angry that this is what my life has become. I'm angry that I feel like a victim. I'm angry that I've been used. I'm angry that I'm the only one really working hard at recovery. I'm angry I'm the only one that has been faithful. I'm angry about all the broken promises and all the manipulation.

And the part I'm really not proud of: I want revenge. I want him to hurt the way I've hurt. I want him to know betrayal and fear and how it feels to be used and criticized, to feel worthless and unloved. I want to tell everyone we know exactly what he's done...and is still doing! I want him to feel for once in his life, without an escape.

I think I've completely gone off my rocker. I don't know what is happening to me lately. It's like every ounce of rage and hurt and sorrow over the last 8 years is bubbling to the surface and I feel out of control. I've stuffed it down and pretended it away for so long that now it is coming back with a vengeance. I'm worried it's going to eat me alive.

Maybe when it's all said and done, it isn't him who destroyed our marriage -- it will have been me.

PTSD, Porn, and Boundaries...Oh my!

Ooooohh boy. Where to begin? How can I even begin to sum up the last couple of weeks.

We had a hellish week, complete with the stomach flu and speeding tickets and even a load of white laundry stained pink (it's the little things that send you over the edge, amirite?!) I was feeling...off. And not just because of all the bad stuff. Because I could sense where we were in our cycle and our pattern, and I wasn't feeling safe.

We reached the point where husband thinks he's doing great, all is well, and then the communication starts to die down. Recovery stops being a point of focus and discussion. It's done when things are convenient. And that's when things start to get dangerous. Based on past experience, I know it is only a matter of weeks before the slide into relapse. What will be the trigger that sends him there?? I start feeling anxious, depressed, irritable, withdrawn, and slightly crazy.

So we talked about it, and it really didn't go anywhere. His response was exactly what I expected: "I don't understand what you're upset about. I've been feeling really good lately and doing well. I can see you being upset if something happened, but nothing has!"

He tried to be "understanding" at first, but after a day or two things really unraveled. The communication stopped. When I tried initiating a conversation, things blew up. I mean BLEW UP.

Anyway, I had some really major realizations slap me in the face. I thought maybe it was time to separate. I prayed, and I prayed some more. I wanted to be SURE with a big decision like this. I mentioned it in my share during S-Anon (and the lovely ladies were so kind and supportive). I went home and talked to him. And then...I chickened out. Shocker? Nope. Instead of telling him he needed to move out now, I had a last minute decision to tell him he had the end of the month and I needed to SEE real changes, not just hear promises. He wasn't happy, but whatever. He promised things would change, things would be different. That night I tried sleeping on the couch again, but I was exhausted and my head and body hurt, and the baby woke up at some point in the night. After rocking him, I climbed back into my own bed next to husband, because a good night's sleep was more important than anything else.

And then...things kind of stayed that way. I kept sleeping in our bed, but I stayed guarded. Husband went to his meeting on Saturday, texted and asked a new guy to be his sponsor, and made me leave the house that afternoon so he could prepare a super elaborate Mother's Day dinner that he did with our friends. All very nice. Sunday he had to speak in church, which he was super stressed and terrified about. Sunday morning he tried to initiate sex, but I turned him down because I didn't want to be used to alleviate his stress, as that is one of his biggest triggers and I knew he was stressed and nervous about his talk. Turning him down stressed me out, but he made this little speech about how it's all about making me feel safe and it was ok. We ended up having sex later that night, which I wasn't 100% about, but whatever.

Fast forward to Monday afternoon. My toddler has the Kindle and hands it to me. I randomly decide to check the browser history, even though there's never anything in there. Except this time...there it is. Porn. Graphic porn, viewed about 15 minutes after I left the house on Saturday. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. All the wind was knocked out of me. I immediately felt cold and started shivering. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. My mind was racing. All my senses seemed to be going haywire at once. I wondered if this is what PTSD felt like?

The husband was on his way home from work. I debated what to do. Prompt him and give him a chance to come clean? Spit it out and keep it short and sweet? I decided on the second option. He came home all nice, tried to give me a hug, and could immediately tell something was wrong. He asked me about it, I told him we needed to talk upstairs.

I told him I found the porn on the Kindle. He froze. I gave him a chance to explain. He had nothing, and then started to get defensive. He knew he was trapped. I ranted for a short bit. I left the house and went shopping and drove around. I secluded myself in our bedroom while he slept in the basement.

He sent me an email and text to apologize. I didn't respond to either. He created a Google Doc to act as his journal and added me so I could read it whenever I want. Stupidly, I have read it, even though I know I just need to detach. I feel like it's just another show, another manipulation tool. He talks about missing me, being afraid I'll leave him, wanting me to quickly see the changes he's making because he needs me and my friendship and love.

I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I know as soon as I soften, as soon as I stop enforcing my boundaries and "let him off the hook" for this one that he'll stop writing in that document and stop pretty much everything else too. Nothing will change. This cycle will continue. I HAVE to be strong. I have to stick to my guns and follow my gut. I can't be an enabler anymore. This is so hard. Probably the hardest thing I've ever done, but I HAVE TO DO IT.

There is more to write, but that will be the next post. This is way too long as it is and it is way too late.

Lost

Today I am lost. Today I hurt. Today is a bad day.

I've been majorly struggling lately. I've tried to reach out to other women in my group. I've tried surrendering and praying this away. I am suffering. The pain of this addiction has been too much. The sharp knowledge that I was hardly more than body parts that served a function throughout my marriage has been too much. I wanted desperately for my husband to love ME. Who I was, not my body. I tried to be perfect so he would finally see the real me and love that part of me. I killed myself trying to be everything I could possibly imagine he would want. I gave him everything.

He couldn't see any of it because his mind has been too clouded by lust for a parade of endless women.

I tried talking to him about it finally, and it didn't work. He interrupted, minimized, told me how to feel, told me to get over it, played the victim...and I lost it. The last few days have been a series of grenades going off as we've tried to talk. I've slept on the couch the last two nights. Last night I said the F-word for the first time in my last. Last night I also told him I hated him (because in that moment, I did).

I feel like I've truly lost my mind.

He tried to apologize. He made more promises about changing, which is what set me off in the first place. I can't take any more empty promises that he doesn't follow through with. It is slowly killing me. I don't feel safe or sane or ok anymore. But he made the promises, and although more cautious, I hoped I would see some action.

Then, today, a friend sent me a link regarding recovery that I thought about sending him. Before I sent it though, I paused. What if he isn't in a frame of mind to read this? I had told myself this morning I would detach, that I wouldn't check up on him. I decided to check his YouTube viewing history anyway. And there it was...a nice list of his favorite types of videos.

He sent me a text telling me to call him. I thought maybe he would actually 'fess up for once. He just wanted to discuss some item of business. I asked him if that was all he wanted to talk about, he insisted it was but wanted to know why I was asking. After I hung up, I realized I should take a screen shot of the evidence, just in case.

I was too late. He wised up after I tipped him off. It was deleted.

I haven't heard a word from him since.

WHAT DO I DO???????

How is this my life? How did this happen?? I don't want to be a single mom. I don't want to tear my family apart. But is there any other choice? The man has a list of excuses a mile long as to why he can't/won't/doesn't need to do certain recovery things. I know where his heart lies. But what am I going to do about it?

I've tried praying today, but nothing seems clear. I feel like I need to make him leave. But when? For how long?

I can't do this.

I've never been good at this stuff. I can't be the bad guy. I can't stand up for myself while the other person calls me crazy. I can't put my kids through this.

I don't know who to call for help. My biggest support people are online, most of them in another state. I want to tell my family, but I too scared.

I can't live like this anymore. I can't believe this is my life.

The magic of self-care

You know what the easiest and most difficult thing in the world is?

Self-care.

This concept was completely foreign to me for years. I am the master accommodator. If somebody asks me what I want, my first response is always, "I don't care, what do you think?". Your needs first, my needs last. Always.

I can't tell you how many times I maybe did have an opinion, but someone else had a different one, so I just dismissed mine. This happened so frequently that after a while, I really didn't have an opinion anymore. My mantra became that whatever made so-and-so happy made me happy. And a lot of the time, it really did. If the person I was close to was happy, that meant I did a good job. That meant that I had value. 

Codependent much?

I've been an accommodater my entire life, and I'm not really sure why. I remember when I was 10 years old, I got sick. Like, REALLY sick. I spent a good month or two incredibly ill, until I finally was admitted to the hospital where I stayed for a week. After getting released from the hospital, it still took another two months to fully recover. I had contracted an intestinal bacteria that nearly killed me. It was a terrible ordeal.

The thing was, a few weeks before I was admitted to the hospital my mom had surgery. She couldn't drive for over a week and had to spend some significant time recovery. I didn't want her to worry about me, even though I was seriously ill. I'd put on a happy face so I would go to school, and then I'd spend almost the entire day sleeping on my desk (NOT normal for a straight-A student like I was). During recess I'd go to the library and lie on the couch there, trying not to die. I didn't want to call my mom, because she couldn't drive to pick me up. She'd have to find a neighbor to help out. I didn't want to be an inconvenience. Pretty soon I got too sick to keep up the charade anymore and I spent a week at home and then a week in the hospital. Years later I told my mom about how I tried to pretend everything was ok so no one would worry. She burst into tears. She felt just awful that I had suffered so much.

Seriously, what 10 year old does something like that?

So imagine what happens when a natural accommodator marries an addict. Addiction is self-centered, arrogant, inconsiderate, controlling. Selfish. An addiction will take everything.

After 7 years of living with an addict, I completely lost my sense of self. I lost the ability to make myself happy and to find value in myself. I felt that what I wanted and needed and who I was was secondary to making my addict happy. If I could make him happy, maybe he would finally see me for who I really was and would love me. I felt that self-depravation would make me a better person somehow, when really, it only made me miserable.

On my road to recovery, one of the most important things has been to find ME again. What I like, what I need, what I love about myself. I've felt promptings from the Spirit that God didn't send me here to be a doormat. He sent me here to be ME. It's time to find that person again.

Reconnecting with myself hasn't been easy, but it has been so rewarding. One of the keys to doing this is self-care. Taking a step back and reflecting on how I'm really feeling, and then DOING it! Things like resting instead of doing the dishes because my back hurts and one of the kids was up in the night, leaving me exhausted. Stopping to grab a sugar cookie because I had a craving that just wouldn't quit. Inviting friends out to lunch. Taking a few minutes to stretch and meditate instead of mopping the floor.

Simple, right?? But SO hard at first! The feelings of guilt that I was being selfish were almost too much. But as I actually went through with taking my feelings into account in addition to others, I became happier, and I became more able to devote myself to others without resentment.

As I've begun to consider my own needs and feelings, I've made a magical discovery... I am a person of worth! I matter! And it's ok to ask for the things that I need once in a while. I still like to make other people happy, but I no longer feel that depriving myself of my own happiness is worthy of praise or makes me a better person.

And that has been the starting point for my own recovery.

Mourning the loss

One of the things I didn't expect when I began this recovery journey is a sense of loss that I had to grieve.

Several weeks ago we went out to dinner with a couple. This couple happens to be the adoptive parents of the baby boy my husband fathered before we were married (we'll call him "Ben"). By a weird twist of fate, the adoptive father was also in my husband's mission. They are a wonderful couple and live near us and my husband has been grateful to have been included in some of the events of this little boy's life.

This couple wanted to meet with us to get his feedback from the perspective of a birth parent as they try to start the adoption process again. During the dinner much of the conversation revolved around our kids. This other couple talked a lot about Ben and what a kind, sensitive nature he has. He is the first to notice when his mom gets a haircut, he is the first to notice when another child is unhappy. He gets up early so he can watch the sun rise (he's 9!). He is also very competitive in sports, and takes it hard when his team loses. He has a sweet and tender heart, and is incredibly in tune with the Spirit.

On the drive home my husband mentioned that when he was a kid he used to take pictures of sunsets all the time. He wrote sweet notes to his mom and took her on "dates" after she got divorced. Ben inherited much of my husband's personality and seems to be much of the same child he was.

The thing is...where is that boy now? I love my husband, and he has many good qualities, but I would never describe my husband as sensitive or emotionally in-tune. Instead he has been distant, defensive, frequently angry, and emotionally numb much of the time.

This addiction has taken so much from me and our family. It has turned a sensitive and kind boy into a man who is a liar and manipulator. One who would yell at me if I wanted to talk about feelings. One who would say things to intentionally hurt my feelings with the purpose of driving me away. One who used me as a sex object.

Sometimes I wonder if a few dirty pictures are a big deal (when really, it wasn't a "few" at all). When I look at the change that happened to my husband during his adolescence and shaped who he is 20 years later, it is a big deal. It stole my husband's spirit. Nothing about porn or addiction is ok.

Now that my husband is pursuing recovery and has longer stretches of sobriety, I've seen glimpses of the boy who once was. When my husband is sober for a length of time, he sees me for who I really am. He wants to talk with me, listen to me, and love me. He sees the beauty in our children. He enjoys the little things of life again. But every time we deal with a relapse, I have to mourn the loss all over again.

Things I've learned lately...

1. Relapses are hard

2. Even worse than the relapses is the loss of my "real" husband. I had the first extended glimpse of him in 8 years for a couple months there. Turns out he's even better than I hoped! The pain of waking up one day to find the return of a critical, emotionally withdrawn, arrogant man who is unwilling and unable to listen or reason or feel empathy is overwhelming.

3. Getting back on the horse is really hard

4. Forgiving never seems to get easier

5. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love me, and they want what is best for me. They really do.

6. S-Anon is a blessing

7. My prayers are heard and answered when I need it most, especially when I let go and trust God. The answers are never big or overwhelming. I never know what I should do with my whole life. But I get a still, small answer in my heart that will help me today. And it has always been right.

8. My gut is also always right (maybe part of that is the Spirit helping me?). I am thoroughly amazed at how much I am learning to trust myself and my intuition.

9. Sleeping alone can sometimes be kind of nice.

10. I am stronger than I feel like I am.

11. I am learning how to depend on myself and not my husband to know what I want and what is best for me. I am learning what I actually like again. I am becoming re-acquainted with myself, and while I am far from perfect, I kind of like the person I'm becoming.

12. Confidence to trust yourself and confidence to be alone can bring confidence in other areas of life too.

13. Giving up "control" is scary and hard but it brings peace. Detachment seems difficult and scary, but it is also a blessing and brings peace.

14. I can't change my husband. I need to repeat this 5 times a day. I can't make him choose recovery.

15. I can make choices for myself, though.

16. If I don't put effort into working my recovery, I gradually end up back in Crazy Town.

17. I need to find my own support system. Still working on that.

18. I am more than my husband's addiction.

19. I need to be patient.

20. I can do hard things. (Well, still learning to believe that one...)