Swimming in grief

A hard couple of days. I am really grieving the loss of what I had with my husband. I had felt so loved and cared for, even if it was mixed with all his lies. And also grieving the loss of the future we had talked about - being that little old couple walking down the street holding hands.  Why didn't he save us? I had no control, no power. But him? He could have called someone after the first porn slip. He could have called a therapist after the first hand-job massage or even after the first prostitute. He had so many chances to save us and I had none. And he didn't. Why didn't he? Why didn't he save us when he had the chance? I grieve the loss of that chance. And why didn't we stay in therapy, where resentments would not have had the chance to fester? There are so many questions like that. What was the moment where something could have been done differently so that he would not have done the things he's done? I would give anything to go back. But now there's no turning back. What's done is done. All the lying, all the betrayal. 

And why didn't we have cash withdrawal alerts on our accounts? Why didn't we have porn blockers and computer monitoring software. We had none of that. Because I didn't know I had to keep on top of this after all the therapy and work and pain we went through. I never thought he would have sexual contact with anyone else again after all of that. I didn't remember "once an addict, always an addict." Life was good and we were busy working full-time and raising a family and doing all the things. 

I don't want this life I have now. I want the life I thought I had. The life with my loving, smart, funny, creative, talented husband with whom I was going to grow old and play with grandchildren. I'm grieving all the things we will never do together again - hugging, kissing, making love, watching movies, going to the beach, sandcastles, laughing with each other, sharing our passions and dreams, traveling, playing games, our New Year's Day party, hand-made sushi dinner, singing at the piano, Christmas in Maine, family pile on the couch. So many things that made my life rich and wonderful will never happen again. 

I have magical thinking. Like if I just sit in the car and don't come out of the garage, the life I had will be there, outside the doors. If I just don't go out, I can believe that nothing has changed. I sit in the car and cry.

I have so much anguish. My life slipped away without me knowing until it was too late for me to be able to do anything. I lost everything in an instant - that instant when he admitted he was fucking prostitutes again. Sudden like death, and it is hard to come to terms with and I have so much grief.

We started couples therapy last week to prepare for disclosure. Again.

All the lasts

I don't remember our last hug. It must have been that day, because we hugged every day. But if I had known it was going to be the last one, I would have hugged you longer and tighter.  I would have breathed in that moment so I could remember how it felt. And then maybe I could dust it off, later, when the years had worn away the pain, and feel just the love.  Even if you didn't really love me, if you couldn't really love me, I felt loved. And I got to feel what it was like to love freely again.  At least for a while. It was what I wanted. I wanted us. Did I fool myself? Does it matter anymore?

Once again, I can't believe this is my life

Sitting at my desk trying to work, I can't believe this is my life - having to endure the absence of all the things the Addict provided, because he provided so much: love, physical affection, fun, support, intellectual stimulation, quiet companionship, humor, shared interests and activities, and more.  SO MUCH is missing in my life now. I still have good friends, loving family, physical safety and security. I  have activities and pursuits, curtailed as they are by the pandemic. But the love, care and companionship that nourished my soul most profoundly are missing. In their place: a deep, deep pain.

It has been 18 days since the Addict moved out. I have a terrible memory, but I think that is the longest we've been apart since we've been married (24.5 years).  I want so badly to just get a hug from him, to feel again how I felt in his embrace, just for a few minutes. We were always very physically affectionate. The lack of contact is extremely hard to bear. It was sustenance. 

A hard day trying to keep it together for work

Having a lot of sadness today. I think I'm struggling with wanting to connect with the Addict, who has been my primary intimate relationship, not just physically, but emotionally, intellectually, spiritually, maybe psychologically - he was truly a soul mate, for lack of a better term. That primary intimate connection was abruptly severed, almost like a sudden death, and nobody else can fill it for me right now. I don't know anybody who shares my most basic values and comes close to being as consistently interesting, funny, creative, supportive and on my wavelength. He really checked all the boxes for me. (Even though he apparently lacks integrity and honesty, he understands the importance of these things intellectually.)

It's not that I don't know who I am without him, I just feel incredibly sad and lonely missing him. And at the same time, I feel like I have to protect myself from him and hold my boundaries. He has gotten away with too much due to my compassion, willingness to forgive and effort to hold a space for him to grow and change, which has required a LOT on my end. And at some level he knew that he was getting away with it because of my willingness to repair. And maybe I have to face the fact that he is not capable of being the person I want to be in relationship with. After 34 mostly great years, that's really painful to confront. I feel a gaping, empty sadness in my body.

I have a lot of big projects at work, and it has been hard to focus. I feel like I'm falling behind, but it's hard to stay motivated to push myself when I'm feeling so down. I usually  just want the work day to end so I can stop trying.

Insomnia

Can't sleep. Can't stop the thoughts, the questions, the pain in my heart.  I used to fall asleep easily, but now I have trouble. I  can fall asleep on the couch, but when i get into bed, the thoughts, questions and pain come back. Maybe it's because I'm alone in this room I used to share with the Addict. I got a new mattress, but my memories are still here. Memories of us, together, in this room.

So lonely

12:27am

I  am so lonely. The Addict was my most intimate relationship on so many levels - my very best friend. I miss his humor, his intellect,  his advice and thoughts. I miss pressing up against him in bed at night. I miss the relief of hearing him come home, knowing there would be hugs and kisses and snuggles. I miss foot rubs and breakfast and dinner. I miss talking to him and being close to him.  He was my safe harbor in the world. I could handle just about anything, but when I couldn't, he was there. 

How can I miss him when he was also lying to me and fucking prostitutes at the same time that all of this good stuff was going on? I don't know. But I do. I miss the person I thought I was married to. It's the same painful despair I had in 2007. And he told me once that he had become the man that I had wanted back in 2007. Maybe, for a while, he was.

I was thinking today  about his denial when I figured out he was going to the massage parlor. He gave me the same story - "Yes, I took out the money, I went there, but I didn't go through with it." "That doesn't make any sense," I said. "Why would you do all that and then stop at the last moment?" And then he said, "You called." And of course, that was a lie. And that was the night he actually fucked the prostitute at the massage parlor.

I wish this was not my life. It hurts so much right now, and the sweet respite of my love is never going to be able to comfort me through this awful time. My safe harbor is gone. My source of love, comfort and security is the person who has hurt me the most. And the saddest part is that this is the second time I'm going through this  loss. I feel like such an idiot, on top of all the pain.

I think the Addict is an incurable compulsive sex addict. All the cash withdrawals point in that direction, even though he claims it was only about 11 times over the past 10 years and only 3 of those times was fucking. But that's a lie. 

I'm scared of disclosure, because I'm going to find out a lot, I think. But I want and deserve the truth. Last disclosure was only a couple of bits of new info -  I had figured out about all the prostitutes by the time we did disclosure. But this time I feel like I'm going to find out about 30 - 40 more prostitute visits. It makes me sick to my stomach -  not the fucking of prostitutes, which is gross, but the betrayal of my heart. And I have the hollow pain in my chest. My heart is broken. 

Final results of STD tests came back and I don't have anything. That's a relief. Just have to watch for HPV at my next pap smear.

1:07am

I wish the crying would help me sleep, but the painful waves of sadness are keeping me awake.

Obliviously selfish

I am heavy with despair. I just cannot process what the Addict has done. Last time we went through this, he had no tools, no recovery, no therapy. He had not seen me in the deepest depths of anguish and pain caused by his choices. He had not seen me in a soul-crushing, existential crisis. We did not  have years of rebuilding trust after facing the crisis of betrayal.

But this time he had all of that. He had the tools, he had years of therapy and 12-step, he had people to contact, he knew the warning signs  - middle circle, inner circle - and he know how destroyed and heartbroken I was as a result of those choices he made. So why, why, why did he make THE SAME CHOICES AGAIN???

Here's why: he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He wanted the awesome, if imperfect, loving wife who so many thought him lucky to have, who raised his son with him, who made a lot of the money, who took care of the finances and who supported his creative endeavors - he wanted all of that AND he wanted to get his fucking rocks off with prostitutes because HE THOUGHT HE COULD GET AWAY WITH IT.

He thought he could have it all and that I would be none the wiser. He didn't care about the spiritual damage he was doing to our relationship and to me. Because he could get away with it. He could fool me. He was fine with taking away my agency, my choice, the choice that I had made to be in a monogamous relationship with an honest man.

That is the ugly truth. And I am heartsick at the fact that he would do this to me, that he could do this to me, and that I would be dumb enough to let him, giving him space to grow and change and be a different person.  He would say it  didn't have anything to do with me. And to that I would say HOW CAN YOU  BE SO FUCKING SELFISH. Of course it has something to do with me. We are married and in a fucking committed relationship. So how could it not have anything to do with me? Only looking through a lens of SELFISHNESS. 

He thought he deserved a little something on the side. I remember - that's what he admitted the first time around. 

What a fucking waste.

Once an addict, ALWAYS AN ADDICT

I don't know when the Addict stopped going to SA meetings. And I don't know when he stopped going to AA meetings. I stayed out of his recovery because that is what our programs told us to do. But I know I knew at some point he wasn't going. I allowed myself to forget that addiction does not go away. And I wanted to provide space for him to be something other than what he had been in the past. But the truth is, an addict is simply managing their disease somewhere on the spectrum of successfully to unsuccessfully. Every day for the rest of their life. I allowed myself to believe that the Addict was okay without a daily SA or AA practice. He read and spoke about Buddhism, and that seemed like a good practice to me. I see now that this was a form of not taking care of myself. But it's confusing, because I'm supposed to stay out of his recovery. And I didn't want to assume the role of mother or dictator in our relationship. But my therapist suggests that, with couples dealing with sex addiction, there can be a middle ground where the two come together and share what's going on with themselves. The Addict and I did't have such a practice. At least, not after therapy stopped. And that was a mistake. I was too confident and comfortable in the progress we had made. I lost sight of the fact that recovery is a LIFE LONG pursuit achieved ONE DAY AT A TIME, not a destination that can be arrived at. The Addict bears equal responsibility, or maybe even more, because he knew the path he was on and did nothing to stop it. Never once in the past 15 years did he acknowledge to me that he was struggling, except for the 3 or 4 times I caught him lying about drinking. He would rush back to AA full of promises, to quell my fear-driven freak-outs I suppose, but that effort would always dissipate. And I never paid any mind to it, in part because his recovery was supposed to be his business, and in part because I think I wanted to believe that he was no longer a sex addict. 

So I chose to be in a relationship with an addict, and then I allowed myself to forget. I felt happy and loved and stopped being vigilant about taking care of myself. Not entirely, not even mostly, but in very important ways. 

I feel like I'm back at the beginning in so many ways. Although, I can  also see how I've grown, and that is some comfort. But it's really depressing to be having this struggle again.

What could I have done?

I know this is not healthy thinking, but I keep wondering what I could have done differently to keep this from happening. How could I have been a better wife and partner? More present? More compassionate? A better listener? Less of a perfectionist, less demanding? And I know none of these failings justify the Addict's decision to lie and betray me in all the ways he did. But, alone in the middle of the night, I still wonder.

A nightmare I could wake up from

Just awoke from a nightmare. My heart is still pounding. I dreamt that the Addict and I were driving on a freeway in Seattle at night. As we were on a ramp transitioning to another freeway, we were clipped by a speeding black car that spun in front of us and hit the guardrail. To avoid colliding with the black car, the Addict steered hard to the right, but we spun around and the back of our car tipped over the edge of the road into a ravine. I could feel us sliding down and I could see the trees in front of me in the dark ravine. "Should I jump out?" I yelled. I didn't hear any response but I could sense he was in the car with me. When we came to a stop I jumped out and yelled for him, but no response. I kept screaming his name and I could not hear him or see him. I stumbled out of the woods still calling for him. It was raining, and there was a road and some cars were passing and a few people on scooters. I was terrified and I wanted help, but I was afraid to flag down cars because I was afraid they would hurt me and I felt so vulnerable and helpless. 

I'm so glad I woke up, because that was really terrifying. I felt so frightened and vulnerable.

I've been reading the book of the first year of this blog, going over the first experience to revisit the learning and growth and strength that I found as I worked through the trauma of the first betrayal. There is a lot there that is hard to read, but it's good for me to get present to all that has happened so I don't shy away from it as I make decisions. 

One thing I'm struck by is how immediately forgiving I was last time and how careful with the Addict's feelings, while dismissing a lot of my own feelings. At one point, I wrote something about how I felt, but then went on to say that it was irrational, so "I immediately invalidated it." I wonder how much discounting of my feelings I did during that process because I could intellectually understand certain things and so therefore felt that I didn't have the right to have anger or pain, or felt indulgent when I did so. That is what I do. I minimize my own experience (because I can "handle" it) and don't allow myself to feel angry or upset. I look for explanations for what someone has done so I can have compassion and understanding. Not always, but a  lot, and especially with the Addict. Because I wanted to rebuild, and you can't rebuild without compassion and understanding. But it left some things unprocessed for me.

Ever since 2007, sex has been fraught for me, even during the hyper-sexualized period right after my initial discovery. I have never completely been able to be fully present because of thoughts on my mind. Either thinking about him fucking other women, or not wanting to be a fantasy object like those prostitutes - a vehicle for his desperate desire to achieve some unattainable peak experience. And, for the past several years, I've been having pain during intercourse because I've passed through menopause and my body has changed. So intercourse had  become infrequent again. Once every 2-4 weeks, although we did other things. But the amount of sex we'd been having had definitely slowed down. And I can't help but wonder if that's why, or at least part of why, he felt entitled to get hand jobs, blowjobs and intercourse from prostitutes.

Went for STD tests today (chlamydia, gonorrhea, HIV, hepatitis C, hepatitis B, syphilis; no HPV because that can only be tested for during pap smear, so I'll find that out later).

Feeling it all

My emotions have been all over the place. On Tuesday, before therapy, I felt like I was barely holding it together. I had many work meetings and was just praying that I didn't seem weird or fall apart. 

But by the time I got to therapy, I was feeling nothing. No anger, no sadness. Not empty or numb. More like shut off. 

This morning the deep sadness is creeping back. Everything feels heavy. 

I've been doing a good job of not drinking to numb my feelings. That's a win.

I am having such a hard time coming to terms with the fact that, for a few minutes of pleasure, the Addict chose to throw away everything we had worked so hard to rebuild - that was so hard for me to rebuild after what he had done to me. How could he possibly make that choice and love me at the same time. I don't think it's possible. And I guess this is what addiction is. The drug is more important than anyone in your life. Having an orgasm was more important to the Addict than our 34-years of life together. And it was a good life. He told me so, many times. We still held hands everywhere we went together. 

I am sad. I am lonely. I don't know what to do. I feel like any sane person would be long gone. But it's so hard to turn my back on the last 34 years of my life when I know that some part of the Addict is truly the man I love. But maybe that's a delusion I'm holding on to. Probably.

The Addict moved out today

It's hard to believe that on Thanksgiving, less than 8 weeks ago, I thought I was happily married to the love of my life, and today that person came and picked up his things and moved out of our house.

A fucking heartbreaking day. I am facing a life I never envisioned or wanted. Everything has changed. Every memory of our history and our family that I have will now be a memory of something I don't have any longer. Every day I wake up alone. I don't hear him coming through the door. I don't have that heart-leap of joy when I see his face. I can't look forward to snuggling on the couch and watching our favorite shows or having deeply interesting conversations or laughing at goofy stuff. 

I feel like I'm being washed down a fast-moving river with nothing to cling to and no way to get to shore. And the life I had and loved is getting farther and farther away. I have a hollow pain in the middle of my body that is always there - an aching emptiness. 

My girlfriend took Mom and me to the beach today so we could be out of the house when the Addict came. It was a beautiful day and the ocean waves and air really helped me to not focus on the fact that my partner of 34 years was packing up his things, taking our mattress (I had asked him to because I felt like it had prostitute DNA in it) and leaving. This is a day I would never have imagined 8 weeks ago. And before he confessed to the prostitutes 8 days ago, I was thinking of our separation as possibly temporary while we went to couples therapy to process his lying about drinking.

When we got to the beach I had to do deep breathing to keep from crying. The beach has always been one of our favorite places to go, and we've spent countless wonderful days together with Son building sand castles and playing in the surf. All those memories. 

As I look forward, thinking of life without my love by my side is overwhelmingly sad. But I have not been  cared for, honored and respected in the way I deserve and I can't submit to any more of it without killing my soul.

Looking back on how he lied to me when I asked him about the evidence I found that indicated he was going to massage parlors, I can see that he was gaslighting me. "I have been ashamed for lying to you about drinking and ashamed for thinking of acting out sexually on occasion so I have not been vigorous in my denials of your assumptions." He was trying to make me feel bad for not believing him when he told me that he had only thought about fucking prostitutes and had taken out the money but he didn't actually go (the EXACT SAME thing he told me in 2007). "But it doesn’t matter what I say. You have decided that everything I have ever said has been a lie." He told me he had been in a shame spiral all week and continued to deny that he had had sexual contact with anyone. 

That is the part of him that can never love me or care for me, no matter how much the rest of him wants to.  This part of him is a cold, ruthless liar. And his lies are emotional and spiritual abuse. The trust I thought we had rebuild over the past 15 years was a lie. My guts are churning and my heart is shattered.

Thanks to the lessons of Round One, I can and I will survive this. But the fucking pain is searing.

Constant pain and anger

The last time this happened, back in 2007 -  Round One, as I've been calling it -  my son was 5 1/2. Because of this, I took a pause and thought about what my desired outcome was. And I realized I really  wanted to heal my relationship so that we could provide a home for son. The Addict was a great dad and, in many respects, a good partner. And  all the therapists seemed optimistic that we could accomplish this healing and rebuilding if we were committed to it. And I believed the Addict was, and maybe he believed it too. Who knows. So, in dealing with my feelings, I was careful not to break the Addict's spirit. Our family needed him to have a chance to  recover.

This time is different. Son is away at college, so I don't have any agenda except self-preservation. I still don't want to break the Addict, because Son still needs a dad, but I've been much more forthright about my anger and pain. 

In June 2007, texting wasn't a thing. But now, I can get my thoughts and feelings out in a coherent, written form and still keep a distance, and it has been helping me. 

Me: Some thing that really hurts me is I wonder why did you want to have sex with these other women? Why didn’t you want to do it with me instead? And I wonder, with all this recovery work you’re doing, if you’re looking at why you feel entitled to put your dick in other women’s mouths and vaginas when it is soul-crushing to your wife who loved you. Are you looking at that in your recovery?

After witnessing all the pain and anguish and existential chaos I went through, how could you choose to again do the very thing that hurt me the most? That level of disregard for someone you have already put through such torment is sociopathic.

I go to sleep crying and I wake up crying because it hurts so much.

He read this and texed back that I was in crisis, and that I should call my therapist immediately. 

But I've been through this before, and I learned a lot. I know how to take care of myself, how to call friends, read 12-step literature, write, not drink too much, attend meetings, all the things. I won't be self-destructive, because that's  just allowing him to take even more from me. And I  still have Son's well-being to consider. I know what crisis feels like, because I've felt that, too.

Me:  I am not in crisis, I am in pain. It’s a searing pain that does not go away. I have respites but it is always there. It is like a full body burn. All the damage is done and all that is left is to feel the pain through the long healing process. Last time I was in crisis. Last time it was an existential explosion. This time it’s all just pain and anguish. And I just have to feel it. No way through but through.

And that's really how it feels. The emotional and spiritual pain is constant. Sometimes it is more, sometimes it is less, but every moment I'm feeling loss and grief to some degree. And there is nothing to be done but feel it. There is no going back in time. There is no fixing  it. I  just have to feel it all and get  support.  

It has always  bothered me that the Addict will never fully understand the impact his decisions have had on me. There is no way he can know the existential pain, because for him, there are no gaps  in the story of his life and everything was how he wanted it. He made all the choices. But it left me with no choice. I could not take any steps to protect myself. I could not decide for myself whether or not I wanted to be married to someone who was fucking prostitutes because I did not know, because  he lied and lied and lied and lied. To my face, without batting an eyelash. And he stole tens of thousands of dollars of our money to support his addiction. His lies took away my agency, which is a soul-damaging thing. 

I had no say in the decisions he made, which have torpedoed my life. Yes, I'm choosing separation, but the alternative is to continue  to stay in what is essentially an abusive relationship and that's where the learnings from last time come in. Fuck no to that.

Today's stream of consciousness

I wake up in the morning and lie in bed alone. This will likely be the rest of my life - waking up alone. It makes me sad and angry to have to be getting accustomed to a life I never envisioned.

Husband posted his need for a place to live on FACEBOOK. "I'm sorry to say that I need a place to live, just me. Blah blah blah."

I found out about this when a mutual friend of ours texted me. "I don't know what's going on, but I saw Husband's post on Facebook." Offering all her love and support, nice, but WHAT THE FUCK??? 

"I just posed it to my friends," he says. He has 1200 friends on FB, including most of my family. So now god knows who knows about this very personal, painful experience that I'm going through. 

So, in that moment, I formulated my response to those who contact me about this: We have been dealing with significant issues around Husband's addiction, lying and infidelity for 15 years. I have recently discovered that he has been unable to stop those behaviors, so we have decided that separation is best at this point. It's a very painful time, and I appreciate your concern.

For family and inner-circle friends, I add "infidelity with prostitutes" because I'm done helping him maintain his cool-guy, fun-guy, smart-guy, awesome-guy persona. He's a lot of great things, and he's also shitty, I-fuck-prostitutes-and-FOR-DECADES-betray-my-wife-who-loves-me guy. We deserve the full picture, don't we?

When I confronted him about the Facebook post he texted, without any sense of irony, "Didn't think of ramifications for you."

I go back and forth about what I want. My love for him pulls me toward wanting to work it out (again). But my self-preservation instincts are screaming for me to get the fuck away from him. I mean, he's been lying to me over and over again since at least 2012 about drinking. I kept trying to accept that perfection isn't possible and to hold a space for hime to change. I never thought to check our bank accounts  for missing cash because he witnessed my agony in 2007 and we spent years in intense therapy and 12-step programs. So I thought that at least fucking prostitutes was in the rearview mirror of our lives. I was so happy each time I realized how many years had passed since he'd fucked another woman. Now - it's been two months. So disgusting.

And I feel defiled by it. I feel disgusted and disgusting. I need to go for an STD test. AGAIN. 

Husband is a MONSTER - not all of him, but part of him. That part can never love and care for and protect and honor me. And that is what I have to learn to accept.

God, PLEASE grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Life after us

I really don't know how I'm going to do this. How can I never see Husband again? How can I live my life separate from his. I had envisioned our lives together, growing old, holding hands. I am heartbroken.

I'm an adult woman, so I know my life can go on. I have a job, I know how to take care of myself. My life is not going to fall apart. 

But my heart is the thing that is having a hard time. Husband was my good place. The happy place for my heart. I loved the sound of the door when he came home from being out because I knew I'd see him. I looked forward to spending time with him, talking to him, going to the movies, traveling, reading his writing, playing tennis with friends, walking the dogs, going to the beach and endless other mundane to amazing things we do together. 

Knowing that things can never be that way again causes me so much anguish. 

So much of him loved me and I miss that love, that presence of love and intimacy and connection in my life. But there was a part of him that didn't love me - that couldn't love me. And that's the dangerous part. That's the part that throws away every promise, commitment, vow, concern and care and does what he wants. Why? Why does he have to have that part? Why can't he be the person I thought he was without that awful, dangerous part that is willing to hurt me in so many ways??? Why??? Why is there no answer to this question????

I don't want this life I have to have without him. But there is no other life. My life after us. I know there will be a lot of good there. But right now it just hurts so much it's hard to imagine.

Dealing with normal when nothing is

The pain comes in waves as a sudden hollowness in the middle of my body as I try to look normal in Zoom meetings for work. I suddenly become present to all the loss and grief. I take a deep breath as my body processes the feelings and try to pay attention to the meeting. I am distracted. I can't remember what day it is. I forget what I'm doing. 

It still hurts

Last night, I asked Husband to leave and today he is gone. Lying alone in the dark I feel a painful gaping hole in me, like something was ripped out of my chest. I don't have words for the grief and sadness feel. So much that was foundational to my life has been taken from me. Why did I trust him again? I fooled myself because I loved him and I felt loved by him. I am lonely because my most intimate relationship is gone. I have great friends, but it's not the same. A piece of me is gone and it hurts so much. I am overcome with grief. 

This time is different

I am hurting—deeply—but I’m not hollow and annihilated. My heart aches with sadness and grief, but the world is not devoid of color and purpose the way it was the first time. I do not wake up dreading that I am still alive. 

And for the first time in nine years, I have the freedom to choose again, with full knowledge of what it is I’m choosing. Because I did NOT choose to be betrayed again. I did NOT choose to have sex with Husband after he fucked prostitutes (during COVID with high-risk people in our household, including me). I did NOT choose to stay with a liar. I chose someone in recovery, someone who had chosen honesty as his principle, someone who had seen me destroyed as a result of his actions, seen me in the deepest anguish, and who had worked hard to get well and be able to be in a healthy  relationship. THAT’S what I chose—or thought I chose. 

But Husband has a part of him that feels entitled, that feels he deserves to do what he wants despite the deep betrayal and the many times I’ve asked, begged for honesty and monogamy (in my mind, monogamy goes without saying because we’re married, but I did say it.) 

That entitlement is where his humanity ends. 

And that is why he treats me this way. He says he loves me, but he was not loving. Any loving acts he did were only covering up the lies he was living and forcing me to live. 

I don’t see how he could ever do do enough heal the pain and anguish that I am feeling.

The truth about being married to a sex addict

Husband confessed tonight that, since 2013, he has been to massage parlors 11 times and had hand jobs and blow jobs and that three of those times he had sex with the prostitute, including most recently on November 8 of 2021. 

I am done.

I do not regret the past. I grew tremendously and gained a Self that I didn't have before because of everything I went through circa 2007. And we provided a loving home for Son as he was growing up.

Ninety-five percent of Husband is amazing. He is funny, talented, smart, creative and loving. But five percent of him chooses to betray his wife, knowing full well how much pain and anguish this has caused me in the past because he thinks he deserves it and he can get away with it. I can't live with that part.

I'm heartbroken because I'm losing my Person; my soulmate, my confidant, my harbor, my most intimate best friend who gets me and loves me and appreciates me and who is an amazing father and a great partner whom I loved and admired and respected. 

But there is a part of him that feels entitled to have what he wants, despite the fact that he is betraying me, hurting me, leaving me feeling worthless to the most important person in my life. He thinks he deserves it and that he can get away with it. 

I will not live with that.

I wanted things to be different because I loved him deeply. But I am done, because I deserve better.

I asked him to move out tomorrow.

It's quiet

 And I wake up on the first day of the new year alone.

Boundaries: A Users Guide, Chapter I

Today is not what I would have hoped for, nor what I imagined as recently as this past Thanksgiving. Husband and I are separating. He’s moving out after son returns to college at the end of winter break. 

I found out on Nov 29 that Husband was drinking and lying to me about it. It has been going on for months. I noticed a few times that liquor was missing but he said it wasn’t him. (He is a recovering alcoholic, but I still drink alcohol and we have it in the house.) I thought I'd smelled liquor on his breath a few times, but he denied it. I noticed gum and mouthwash, but didn't put two and two together (although somewhere deep inside I must have). But I discovered a bottle of vodka in the trunk of Husband's car after he asked me to open the trunk because he thought he'd locked his keys in there. When I opened the trunk, there was a bottle of vodka, one-third full. Of course, he denied that it was his. “I haven’t had a drink in 5 years.” 

"Then how did it get here?" I asked. 

"I don't know," he lied. 

I asked point blank if he was drinking and lying about it and he denied it. But I knew something wasn't right, and I kept digging for the evidence and he kept denying. Some of the hard-earned lessons I've learned are to trust myself and to believe that I have the right to ask and dig when thinks don't seem right to me until I'm satisfied with the answers. No more giving the benefit of the doubt, no matter how much he loves me or I love him. 

"The bottle was in a holiday grocery bag, just like the other groceries you brought home today. Why is that? It doesn't make sense if you didn't buy it today." 

"I don't know," he lied.

I knew he was lying and he knew he was lying. After about two hours of me giving him openings to tell the truth--while I continued to look for other explanations for the answers he was giving that didn't feel right, searching the trunk, asking more questions--he asked me what I was trying to find with all this searching. "I don't believe what you're saying, so I'm looking for a receipt." He pulled out his wallet, looked inside, and turned out his pockets. Nothing. And so I went back out to the car one last time. As he sat beside me while I looked at receipts that I picked up from the floor of his car, he said nothing. Even when I found the receipt from the day's grocery shopping that listed the bottle of vodka I'd found in the trunk, he said nothing. 

"I hope it was worth it," I said as I wadded up the receipt and threw it at him. I felt cold, detached and devoid of love for him. 

We had out of town guests coming to stay with us in a few days and then our son coming home from college for winter break, so we decided to white-knuckle the holidays and deal with this after Son returned to school, so as not to ruin his Christmas.

The Addict has relapsed with alcohol many times over the past years, each time but I had never thought to look at what he was doing online. This time, on Dec 28, I checked his computer and I found that, in addition to regularly buying alcohol and secretly consuming it, he has been looking at porn again for years, and that he had visited AshleyMadison where married people look for affairs and also the escort website he’d previously used to hire prostitutes. He also has looked for erotic massage, and I believe he actually had one in November because I could see his searches on the computer and withdrawals of cash near the massage parlor he was searching for. He denies that he's had any sexual contact with others. He claims that he did look for a place and did get out the cash and did go, but that he didn’t go through with it. I’ve heard that one before. 

Everything I'd tried to put behind me to give him the chance change and grow, to be the person he's said he wants to be and has worked hard to be--all of the pain of betrayal came rolling back over me. I fell into a couple of days of doing lots of investigating and cross checking of website activity and bank statements and anything else I could get my hands on. I wanted to know. I wanted the truth. I can't believe what Husband says, so I was looking for supporting evidence that when he told me he hasn't has any sexual contact with anyone else over the past 14 years that at least that was true. 

But what I realized is that I'll never know. I'll never know. I can't believe what he says, and there can never be enough evidence. 

I’ve been crystal clear about how much pain his lying causes me and how deeply painful the sexual betrayal has been. I honestly don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. I’m incredibly sad, but, unlike 2007, I’m not annihilated. That's a win for me. I have not lost my Self with this new discovery of betrayal.

Despite everything we've been through with his addictions, after doing years of intense therapy individually and as a couple, I have been open to him being a different person and I have worked hard to put the past in the past. (And it has been hard.) Over the years, trust has grown and he has again become my best friend, the person in whom I seek comfort when I'm down or frustrated, the one I have the most amazing conversations with and the most fun with. He's my biggest supporter, always encouraging me to do the things I love in live. We enjoy many of the same things, we laugh a lot together, we hold hands when we're together, he gets me and appreciates me and loves the good and the bad of me. He makes me breakfast and dinner every day. He is a 50/50 partner in the tasks of life, and he's an amazing father. That's what makes this confusing and so painful. Being with Husband is not all bad, it's not all pain. It's mostly everything I could ask for.

It should be simple. He lied. He cheated. He's out. That was the boundary I set after the last drinking and lying relapse in 2018. But with that decision I lose SO MUCH. I feel grief over the impending loss of love and friendship and family and a future growing old with someone I love and have decades of history with. Not to mention loss of our house if we divorce and have to sell everything to split it up between us.

So much of it feels irreplaceable. I'm 57 now. There is little chance that I'm going to meet an amazing man who loves and supports me the way Husband does and build 35 years of shared history with him--history like making a child together, moving through phases of life from our 20s to our 50s and all that goes with that. Not to mention that it doesn't really feel worth the effort, considering how much effort I've put into this relationship. I feel gripped with anguish.

But that's what boundaries are for. They keep you on the path you want to be on. Sometimes, they demand that you do things that you don't want to do in the moment, when you're hurt and vulnerable and confused. I don't want to lose everything we have together, but I also know I don't want to keep going through this pain. And I don't want to lose my Self by sacrificing my boundaries. 

If you want something different, you have to do  something different. So I told him I want a separation. I'm heartbroken and grief-stricken and lonely. But I want something different, and there is no other way to get that. Where I find myself now is proof of that, to me at least.

Not the new beginning I'd hoped for 2022, as we enter the third year of the global COVID-19 pandemic.

A couple nights ago, after we watched a couple episodes of "Station Eleven," Husband started sleeping in the guest room. I think he thinks that makes me happier.