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 I start feeling anxious, depressed, irritable, withdrawn, and slightly crazy.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.
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