The risk of spirituality

I came across a phrase today: "The will of God will never take you where the grace of God cannot keep you."

Substitute Higher Power, The Universe, Love Intelligence, or whatever else you call the power in your life that's greater than you, if indeed you have such a thing. (If not, click here.)

I Googled the phrase, and found this poem, attributed to Anonymous:

The will of God will never take you,
Where the grace of God cannot keep you.
Where the arms of God cannot support you,
Where the riches of God cannot supply your needs,
Where the power of God cannot endow you.

The will of God will never take you,
Where the spirit of God cannot work through you,
Where the wisdom of God cannot teach you,
Where the army of God cannot protect you,
Where the hands of God cannot mold you.

The will of God will never take you,
Where the love of God cannot enfold you,
Where the mercies of God cannot sustain you,
Where the peace of God cannot calm your fears,
Where the authority of God cannot overrule for you.

The will of God will never take you,
Where the comfort of God cannot dry your tears,
Where the Word of God cannot feed you,
Where the miracles of God cannot be done for you,
Where the omnipresence of God cannot find you.

What I appreciate about this poem is that it suggests that even from the worst of situations and during the darkest of times, I need not despair.

During my darkest times, faith (inherently risky in that it requires believing without evidence) has been my biggest opportunity.

When I believe without evidence that all difficulties and challenges in my path are there to benefit me, anger, disappointment and despair can fall away.

When I believe without evidence that I will ultimately get what I need, in fact, that I already have exactly what I need to be happy and to progress as a human being, then forcing, struggling, resisting and hopelessness become unnecessary options.

After hanging on to skepticism for as long as my rational mind would permit, I've come to the conclusion that Faith is not a crutch, it's a shortcut. A shortcut to the surrender that results in peace and serenity.

All that's required is believing without evidence that there is a higher purpose for everything.

What if that's not true?

I don't care. Because from that perspective, my experience of life is better.

Emotional intimacy after betrayal

Maybe I'm no longer capable of being vulnerable enough to have a deep, emotional bond with Husband.

I've often said that deep trust is critical to deep love. But as I've been thinking about it, I realized that it's very common to deeply love people we know we can't trust. You can love deeply without attachment, without expectation, without an agenda, with an appreciation for all that someone is and is not.

So maybe the more correct theorem is that a deep emotional partnership requires deep trust.

I'd like to have that again with Husband, but a question remains before me like badly worn carpet: How do I open up to him without relying on trusting him?

My intellect replies that I need to trust myself to take care of my well-being, come what may. And I guess that's what I've done. I've sought help and support, learned about and drawn boundaries, taken responsibility for things that are within my control, tried hard to stay out of things that aren't mine to address, wrangled new tools. But all after the fact. After the searing, soul-shattering pain of being deeply betrayed by someone I thought I knew intimately and trusted absolutely.

So, if I must be honest, what I'm really searching for here is a way to avoid ever feeling that pain again.

Therein lies the shit. (Not the good kind.) Because to avoid pain is to avoid living. I know that, based on the life I have.

Everything is a balance between life and death, if I think about it, because if you're not living you're essentially dying. So one is choosing (if only by not choosing) life or death in every moment.

Do I take this moment and live, or do I let myself die a tiny death? And how many tiny deaths does it take to make a wasted life?

I don't want a marriage where there's no emotional intimacy, no attachment, no expectation. I don't want a marriage of loving detachment. That would be fine for many other types of relationships - friends, other family members, even a child, who is supposed to move away and become separate. But I don't what that with the person I'm drawing into my life to be my significant partner. I want attachment to deepen, and expectation to arise out of shared values, experiences and desires.

So many words that sentence us to suffering: attachment, expectation, desire.

But being attached and having expectations means living in denial of some things I've come to believe (all things change, the only thing predictable is that life is unpredictable, as adults we are solely responsible for our experience of life, the actions of others are completely beyond my control.)

How do I resolve those things?

Perhaps there is no need to resolve anything, and my longing for resolution is another manifestation of my inescapable absolutism, simultaneously blinding and crafty.

Perhaps faith is the only answer to me. Turn it over. Trust that my Higher Power is bridging a gap, doing for me what I cannot do for myself. Trust that I have everything I really need, and that everything before me, including Husband, is an opportunity.  Easy to forget when fear seeps into the cracks of life.  I need a structure that will help me remember.

Maybe my relationship with Husband is like a gym membership, and if I just get my ass up and go work out every day the results will be forthcoming.

We're all hurtling toward death anyway. What's it gonna do - kill me?

Choosing to get off the fence I didn't know I was on

As I listened to my unhappily married friend talk about flirting with other men, I found myself wondering why she stays on the fence, frozen, with one foot out the door. "Why don't you just choose and then dive in? Be MARRIED, or be SINGLE, but don't waste your life in an impotent version of both by not making a choice. This is your life! Time is moving even if you're not!"

This is an example of higher power doing for me what I haven't been able to do for myself.

Those thoughts were immediately followed by a realization: She is me.

By keeping distance in my relationship with Husband, I've been in stasis just like my friend. By holding myself back, by not being willing to be vulnerable, yet not willing either to leave, I've been caught in suspended animation between being in a relationship and not being in one, depriving myself of the fullest experience of what my life can be.

My friend also said some very wise things to me as we talked about the anger and resentment that continue to surface from time to time, and my nagging suspicion that if Husband truly valued me he would never have done the things he did.

"Stop punishing yourself over bad choices someone else made!" she said.

And that's exactly what I've been doing.

As Husband has been actively growing and changing, in addition to doing my own growing and changing I've been lingering with pain, anger and resentment over his past lapses in judgment (and perhaps sanity) and nobody is paying a bigger price for this than me.

The folly of this was crystal clear as soon as she spoke those words.

I realized that making the decision to finish suffering over these things isn't letting him off the hook, it's letting me off the hook!

A street is just a street. A building is just a building. A hotel is just a hotel. Without the energy I give them, these things are just objects. They can't hurt me. My own constructs are the source of my pain.

So all of this is leading me to the edge of a cliff I'm scared but now also compelled by reason to jump off.

I want to take a deep breath, and then get off the fence and be fully in my relationship.

I want to stop clinging to my pain, no matter how justifiable.

I want to dive 100% into creating a deep, loving, fully connected relationship with Husband, not knowing how it will turn out, not knowing for sure that I won't be hurt all over again, not sure of anything except that I believe Husband is in my life for a reason, and I'm willing to take this risk to have a life that is lived to the fullest.

I want to be in my life, not observing it from a safe distance.

This feels like a huge, huge risk.

But one of the best things I've learned from this part of my journey is that courage in the face of fear is a gift I can give myself, and I deserve nothing less.

A way to move forward

When I first discovered Husband’s secret life, I immediately turned to my go-to tool set: Think about where I want to end up, and do what I need to cause that outcome. Be reasonable. Be nice. Be understanding.

These things often serve me well, but they fell short of helping me say thing things that I really needed to say in those early days and weeks and months.

What I didn’t have when I discovered Husband’s betrayal were tools to express the deep anger and resentment I felt about what he did.

With years of therapy behind me, I’ve learned new tools and I’m better able to say what needs to be said, to talk about my feelings, including anger, and better at facing conflict and situations that frighten me. So when feelings of anger and resentment come up, I’m more able to talk with Husband about them.

But when I try to express the anger and resentment I feel today about those past events, it’s confusing to both of us. Husband doesn’t stop me, but I know it’s hard for him because he feels so different from the person he was. And it’s hard for me because I know, after years of therapy and recovery work, he’s a different man, and it doesn't feel like anything is being gained in our relationship by me purging myself of these things that feel like they need to come out.

What I realized after talking with my close friend (who also happens to be a therapist) is that the person I have unresolved issues and unspoken anger and resentment toward is gone. The person I need to yell at - scream at, curse at - has disappeared.

I don’t know exactly what to do about my issues with an absent perpetrator (especially as I don’t feel very satisfied by role playing, yelling at pillows, or writing unsent letters,) but it’s very helpful to distinguish because it clarifies a couple things for me:

• Husband’s recovery doesn’t invalidate my lingering unresolved issues.
• It’s possible to be angry with “old” Husband, while trying to live in the moment and have a loving relationship with “new” Husband; it’s possible to let them be two different people so I can move forward with the healthier person who’s in front of me now.

I’m still not sure how I’m going to resolve things with someone who’s no longer around to hear me out, but this perspective helps me separate the person Husband is today from the person he was, which creates the opening for me to live the life I have right now, less constrained by unresolved issues from the past.

Getting to the root

Tonight at my meeting I heard tools that I can use:

1) Return to morning practice of connecting with my higher power (so other things, for example my anger and resentment, don't become my higher power.)

2) Return to step work and reading fellowship literature

3) Look farther back in my life to see if I can identify where this quality of being unforgiving, and these feelings of and this clinging to anger and resentment originate. What am I afraid of?

In talking with others after the meeting I realized that I still do feel that if I was valued enough this never would have happened; I realized that anger and resentment feel safer than forgiving; and that I hate the phrase letting go because to me it means being a good girl and not being upset, because I know it's the right thing to do. (My mother uses that phrase, and yet she never lets go of anything. Perhaps I have no role models for authentic letting go.)

These are concrete things I can do, and it feels good to have actions to take instead of staying mired in a fog of anger, resentment, sadness, confusion, and emotional isolation.

We read Step 6, and it said "It takes a brave person to step unarmed into the arena of the unknown, desiring only to relate to God and others with honesty and intimacy for the first time."

I need to remember that this is why it gets hard sometimes: The life I'm trying to live requires that I put down my defenses, and that is scary, especially when I lose touch with higher power.

My journey is my own, but I'm not alone.

Wednesday, 10.12.11, 12:20AM - Like a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a non-answer to my questions, Pema Chodron showed up in my inbox just now:

"To stay with that shakiness—to stay with a broken heart, with a rumbling stomach, with the feeling of hopelessness and wanting to get revenge—that is the path of true awakening. Sticking with that uncertainty, getting the knack of relaxing in the midst of chaos, learning not to panic—this is the spiritual path. Getting the knack of catching ourselves, of gently and compassionately catching ourselves, is the path of the warrior. We catch ourselves one zillion times as once again, whether we like it or not, we harden into resentment, bitterness, righteous indignation— harden in any way, even into a sense of relief, a sense of inspiration." - From The Buddha Is Still Teaching, selected and edited by Jack Kornfield, © 2010.

The question of trust

When I was in my 20s, I was nanny to a little boy from when he was born until he was 3 1/2. After I moved away, we continued to visit for years.

Once his parents brought him down to a sea-coast hotel in California near where I was living. I came to the hotel one night to stay with him while his parents went out to dinner. He was still little - maybe only 4 or 4 1/2.

The hotel faced the ocean, and the terrace had a beautiful view. I scooped him up in my arms and walked outside to show him the beach and the stars. As we approached the railing he said in a simple, sweet way, "Don't frow me over, okay?"

I suppressed my giggles of amusement, put on a serious face, assured him that I would do no such thing, and together we enjoyed the nighttime view.

But what if I had thrown him over?

What if I'd broken the bond of trust established between us over the years and thrown him over that railing? Would he ever again let me scoop him up in my arms and take him out on the veranda to enjoy the view?

What is trust?

On the one hand, it can bond hearts over distance and time, stronger than vows, or laws, or even beliefs. But at the same time it feels as delicate as the wing of a cicada - easily broken with a careless gesture, rendered seemingly irreparable in an instant.

How can something so delicate be healed?

Longing to go back, longing for what was: Those things bring suffering.

Many broken things heal, but not all.

What use to the cicada is a broken wing?

Can a broken thing heal and become something new, and equally whole? Or does it always remain a compromised version of what it was?

I wish answers came as easily as questions.

It works if you work it

I've had a feeling lately. A feeling of choosing.

I find that I'm effortlessly choosing to not regret the past.

Not that being betrayed is a past I'd choose if I had a choice. But I don't.

And it's not a Big Deal, this choosing. No "doing the right thing," no looking for the silver lining or deep breathing needed.

I simply wake up having chosen.

Liberty Bradford wrote recently that "There is a turning point of acceptance one must reach on the path of grieving and recovery from trauma...We will all be survivors eventually."

I think that's true for me.

And I think on my particular path one of the things I'm accepting is myself, separate from any event, separate from the evaluations of others. I'm accepting that I am not lacking, that I am whole and complete in my flawed packaging. I'm accepting that I'm on the journey that is meant for me, and that pain, obstacles, and frightening situations are simply opportunities to deepen my relationship with myself and with my Higher Power. I'm accepting the value of faith to my life, and between two unknowable things, I choose to ground myself in faith over truth.

Some things I have faith in are that loss is an expression of change; that while things always change, the Self I have come to know, the Self that is both a single wave and the whole ocean, will always be whole; and that clarity, consciousness and joy are the products of leaning in to life.

Those are some of the things related to where I am and how I feel right now.

I'm full of gratitude for the life I have. And I'm not afraid of what the future holds, because I know it holds everything I need.

Of course, peace, like everything else, one day at a time.

"If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves. Are these extravagant promises? We think not! They are being fulfilled among us – sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them." (Alcoholics Anonymous, pp.83-84)

Family of origin and self esteem issues

On Wednesday nights, Son and I usually go to a hobby group together. Sometimes Husband joins, and sometimes Son and Husband go without me.

Husband is working late tonight, as he has been of late with his still-new job. So Son and I have gotten into a routine of meeting my mom for dinner before our hobby group.

I'd stayed up too late last night (watching Battlestar Galactica in bed on my iPad!,) gotten up early, and had a long day. As we waited for the check, Mom asked how my day was and I mentioned that I was pretty bushed. She thoughtfully offered to go to hobby group with Son. Since she'd accompanied him a few times before I didn't think he'd mind.

But when I told him Mom was going with him instead of me, he began to protest and continued to beg me to go as we made our way to the parking lot. I was surprised, and torn because as we approach the end of Son's single digit birthdays, I have a limited number of such opportunities left.

He continued to cling to me and whine (not too passionately, but stubbornly nonetheless.)

My mom absolutely couldn't tolerate it.

As I listened to Son's faux-whining and gave further consideration to my decision, she immediately tried to shut him down - I think in my defense, although I hadn't asked to be defended.

"It's okay, Mom, he just wants me to go with him," I said, soaking in the feeling of Son's arms wrapped around me in his attempt to obstruct my progress toward departure. But she kept offering alternatives and telling him to stop being upset.

I quickly lost my patience and told her the conversation was between me and Son, and to stop involving herself in a discussion that didn't involve her.

And then came the truly astonishing, revealing part of the conversation:

Son: You have to go, and that's that!

Mom: Stop that! She said she's tired. Do you want her to drive while she's tired and get into an accident?

Me: Mom!! Stop trying to make him feel guilty!! Stop trying to make him feel responsible for things that he's not responsible for!

Mom: Well he has to know the circumstances!

Oh my god, how instantly she can transport us to another universe!

Me: But that's COMPLETELY MADE UP!!! That hasn't happened, and it's not going to happen!

But she couldn't see it.

She doesn't understand that she was trying to make him feel guilty for wanting me to come with him to hobby group, and she doesn't get the concept that she's teaching him to feel responsible for everything that happens in the world.

If you want your mother to come with you to hobby group when she's tired, and then she does, and then she has an accident, it will be your fault for begging her to go.

She can't see that she's teaching him to try to anticipate how things will turn out and then shape his desires, needs and feelings around that, as if anyone can really anticipate the future.

She can't grasp that she's telling him that he has the power to keep his mother alive by not expressing what he wants in that moment.

No wonder I've lived most of my life unable to validate my feelings, needs and desires in a healthy way.

No wonder I feel responsible for things beyond my control, and believe deep down that if I'm just fill-in-the-blank-enough, all bad things will be averted (and then conversely if they're not averted, that some failure on my part must be the cause.)

It further amazes me that until recently I would have been unable to even recognize the unhealthy dynamic transpiring.

Aside from explaining my particular fucked-up-ness, this interaction is a succinct illustration of the fact that people who love you can mess you up just as much as people who don't love you.

Being really exhausted and knowing I have a full day ahead of me tomorrow, I told Son I really wanted to go home this time, and that I'd go with him next week for sure.

"Oh, fine!" he harrumphed, assuming a mildly British accent. "And you're going to make me late, woman!" (One of the many things I cherish about Son is his keen sense of humor.)

As we parted I called out to my son, "Don't let your Grandmother make you feel guilty!"

And then I turned to my mom. "Thanks, Mom."

"Well get some sleep!" she said. "And don't forget to get gas!"

Ackkkk!!!

God! 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!

Quick!!!

Another note to self: Life will look different from what you expect. Get used to it.

This article by Katia Hetter on CNN is a great reminder not to allow myself to be disempowered by any circumstance, along with some good next-steps for partners on the receiving end of betrayal.

My personal takeaways:

• Focus on the present moment
• Create something & take charge of my own joy
• Create an empowering context
• Look for my own truth
• Don't take the role of victim (i.e. If I'm unhappy about something, what can I DO about it?)

Do, Do, Do!

In conversations with my mother, I notice how easily she is stopped when something doesn't look the way she thought it would.

"I can't [insert desired thing here] because [insert obstacle here.]"

Mom: I can't have a studio because I don't have the money.

Me: Well, why don't you share with another artist?

Mom: I don't want to share a studio with another artist with no money! What if they can't pay their share of the rent??

Me: Okay. Why don't you share with an artist who is wealthy enough to let you pay $150 a month and they pay the other $600?

Mom: [Long pause.] Well...

And the list of obstacles and reasons why she can't continues from there.

Rather than looking for the window when she finds the door locked, she either walks away or feels victimized. Why doesn't she know how to fight for her dreams? I don't know. Why does she not even think to look for another path to that destination? Maybe she was never learned that is an option.

I see this in Mom and I know I've learned to do the same.

But awareness is my spiritual plunger, so...

Next item of business: Create something!

What to do with the things I can't change

When I met Husband in 1988, Mom and I were renting an apartment together. After Husband and I became a couple, he moved in with us and we three have lived together ever since, through 22 years, 2 more apartments and a house.

If Husband is my greatest teacher in the spiritual sense, my mother is his. This translates into a very difficult relationship between them. Not very pleasant for me, but, especially over the last 3 years, I've tried to stay out of it.

Husband had told me that he felt trapped, because he knows I'd never be able to ask my mom to move out. I empathize with him, but he's right. It's a cost to me to have her here, but the cost to me of asking her to leave would be greater. And Husband has been compassionate in not asking me to make that choice. But it's important to him that I know how stressful it is for him, that I know his feelings.

The other day as I listened to Husband complain about mom, I could see clearly how he could relieve a lot of the pressure himself.

My mother isn't malicious. At her worst she's passive aggressive, but many times she's just doing her codependent best to be helpful. Mom doesn't have a good set of tools for self-expression, and she's not aware of what an absolutist she is. She rejects anything that starts to feel like an authority figure (even her own decisions) and frequently undermines us as parents by siding with my son on subjects such as bedtime, consumption of sweets and treats, second helpings, etc... She generally focuses on the worst that could possibly happen. And she is very self-righteous, while at the same time vehemently declaring her disdain for self-righteous people. In short, mom lacks self-awareness on many levels. But she tries to be helpful, and she does the best she can. (I'm really trying to cultivate compassion in my relationship with her, to let go of what I think she should be and appreciate the best of who she is. I have varying degrees of success.)

If one gets frustrated with a cat for meowing instead of mooing, who is causing the problem?

I understand many of Husband's problems with my mother. I share some of them, and I also have my own. But something I know that both Husband and I recognize is that there is little if any chance that the things that bother us about mom will change. For all intents and purposes, my mother is an immobile object.

As I listen to his complaints, I see all the things he could do from his own side to alleviate his suffering - for example, not taking her behavior personally, not expecting her to put our son to bed on time when she babysits, not getting upset when she draws our attention to the latest child kidnapping or tragic death, etc. (I don't tell him any of this, of course, because thanks to therapy I'm trying to practice listening without offering solutions.)

"It's like there's this thing in my life that I really, really wish wasn't there, but there's nothing I can do about it," he said. "You know what I mean?"

I felt like a light switch flipped on in my brain.

"Yes! Yes I do!" I said to both of us. "I know exactly what you're talking about."

I realized in that moment that this was how Husband could begin to understand how I feel about his lies and infidelity.

And in the next moment I began to wonder if all the clarity I had about how he could alleviate his own suffering could be applied to me when something triggers me into thinking about the past, or when I have uninvited thoughts and images come into my head.

Husband patted my leg. "I know you do," he said. "I know what you're talking about."

So I've been thinking it through. When there is something in my path that is beyond my control, the thing I can do is decide how I respond. I can get angry with the cat or feel hurt because it doesn't moo, I can feel disrespected when I ask the cat to moo and it meows, or I can say "That is a cat, and it meows." In other words, here is something that I don't have the power to change, and there is nothing for me to gain by wishing it to be anything other that what it is.

Or very specifically, the events of my past are what they are. Triggers and invasive thoughts are an opportunity for me to practice bringing myself back into the present moment, where I do have the power to have an impact.

What is going on in the present moment? Is Husband treating me the way I want and need to be treated? Is something bothering me that I need to address or express?

If things are good in the present moment, I can take a deep breath, surrender to the past that I have that will never be any other way, and enjoy the happiness of the present moment.

I think if one wants to try to change something that can't be changed (like the past) or that doesn't think it needs to be changed (like my mom) one must consider whether the cost of trying to change that thing (or wishing one could) is worth it, or if there is a more productive action that could be taken. I think there is a lot of truth to the saying "What you resist persists."

The trick is to figure out how to grow so that I'm not stopped by immobile objects in my path. Maybe it's finding compassion, maybe it's having a difficult conversation, maybe it's surrendering to my lack of control over something, or maybe it's something else.

I believe it's possible to progress without resisting that which I have no power to change.

It was a nice opening for me. I could feel the space created by seeing this parallel between Husband's situation and my own, and I could feel the peace that came with my willingness to surrender.

Being loved used to be enough

Went to see my therapist today. I've been feeling better, not so heavy and sad, but I know I still have work to do on my self esteem issues so I was looking forward to getting back to it.

We talked about my anxiety over the prospect of Husband's success, and my fear that he'll get all caught up in his success and meanwhile I'll disappear. And that when he has success, that will make him attractive to hot young women who will look at him adoringly and giggle and make him feel smart and cool and sexy. My crazy head says to me, "If someone can have something better, then why wouldn't they want that? And what do I have to offer that would trump a hot young body, a gorgeous face and pie-eyed admiration? Isn't that much more attractive to a man than a 46 year old, nice looking but chunky woman who is sometimes distant, sometimes sad, and highly suspicious of you?"

One of my close girlfriends who knows what has happened between Husband and me told me that her therapist suggested doing "esteemable acts" as a way to build self esteem. I've been putting off thinking about what these could be for me because I've been so busy with work. (I also put of going to the doctor because of work earlier this year and ended up in the hospital with dangerously low hemoglobin levels because I was slowly bleeding to death, so I guess I don't learn, do I? I'm fully recovered now, and none the wiser apparently.) But I don't want to go along in this same self-esteemless rut and wake up in 5 years to see I've made no progress.

I also talked with my therapist about my sadness over losing the relationship I thought I had with Husband. I don't have any big accomplishments in life. I haven't climbed the Seven Sisters, or become a successful artist, or written a book, or traveled the world, or discovered anything, or cured anything, or become an expert in my field. Nor do I have the material trappings of success: no VP title, no big salary, no fancy car or house, no fantastic wardrobe. Before these things didn't bother me, because I always came back to my relationship. That was what I had. That was what was really important in life, and there I was successful. All that other stuff was icing on the cake - great if it came along, fine if it didn't. I had a loving partnership that was solid and true.

And then I didn't. Instead I had a husband who'd had sex with dozens of other women while we were married, spent tens of thousands of dollars on those prostitutes, and lied to me about all of it, even making me feel wrong and bitchy and crazy when I ever asked about things that I thought were questionable - odd charges on the credit card, for example (which I later realized were for subscriptions to prostitute review and reservation sites.) And I had the pain of feeling like I'd become forgettable to the person I thought loved me most in the world.

So now sometimes I feel I don't have anything. Not the material spoils, not the outward gains, and most important, not the trusted partnership that I valued above all else. I do have my amazing son, but I have to be careful to remember that relationship is ultimately about letting go. He's not my life partner. If he's healthy and if we have a healthy relationship, he'll be separating, not hanging around as I get to be a little old lady the way I envisioned Husband would.

Thinking about it, I realized I ended up in this position because I think that for me, being loved was enough. As long as I knew I was loved, other personal goals and desires became secondary. What could be more important that spending time with the person you love most in the world? Not that I gave up my dreams and interests. I just didn't pursue success or any particular accomplishment, didn't try to climb ladders and get ahead. I had my own life that was busy and full and didn't revolve around Husband. But I didn't have a strong agenda for myself. I didn't need one. I felt deeply loved, and that was enough. I didn't long for anything else.

But now I see that I stopped building my own identity out in the world. I wasn't an appendage to husband at all. But I stopped growing and shaping myself outside of my happy little world of family and close friends.

The best metaphor I can think of is boats. We weren't two boats anchored side by side. We were two boats, but he was the one with the anchor (at least that's how it felt) and I was tied to him with no anchor of my own.

So it's time to begin with esteemable acts, so that I don't disappear from the world if Husband forgets about me. (Not that I really think he will anymore, but the fear of that is hard to get past.) Time to define who I want to be in the world, what I want to do, and take action on those things. That doesn't have to take anything away from my relationship with Husband. And it will help me develop a relationship to myself. I will create my own anchor.

Husband's success brings up fear and anxiety

Husband has spent the better part of the past year working on a big project. The project is now done, and he's handed it over to people who can possibly make something bigger out of it and it's getting good response.

I should be happy. We've been living on just my income so he could do this project. He's also been the primary caregiver for Son during this time - taking him to school, picking him up, taking him to playdates and swimming lessons, cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner. So for that I'm thankful, although maybe somewhat resentful as well, because when I took time off to pursue a personal project he started hounding me to get a job after 4 months, just as my efforts were starting to come to fruition. I'd be pretty happy pursuing my creative projects and taking care of Son, too.

But I've been choosing to support him because ultimately his success could benefit both of us, so I need to let go of that resentment. Working on that.

My character defects aside, thinking about Husband's potential success has me riddled with fear and anxiety. The crazy thoughts going through my head (in no particular order:)

1. Husband will become infatuated with his own success, and I will no longer be needed or important. (Husband enjoyed success and admiration before I found out about his sex addiction, and he rarely made me feel secondary, so I don't know why I'm afraid of this. Maybe it's related to #2...)

2. I feel like I have nothing to offer. I'm having trouble feeling emotionally connected. I have fear, anger and resentment about the past. I feel like damaged, unpleasant goods. Why would anybody with a choice pick me if they have other attractive, interested women (not hard to find in my hometown) hanging around and singing their praises.

2b. I have no great accomplishments of my own. I'm working as an underpaid consultant. My professional peers have passed by me in titles and salary. I've produced no great works of art or business deals or social change. I'm not known for anything special. I have talents that give me joy, but little or no opportunity to use them. I'm nice. The one thing I've been working hard at all my life. Great.

Right now I feel like a victim. I know that's totally disempowering. But there are things he took from me that I'll never get back, and I'm sad and angry about those things. I never had any choice in the matter. By the time I found out about it, those things were long gone.

I lost 19 years of being with someone who always had my back and who I could trust without doubt. I lost the ability to trust that I'd built up over all those years. I lost the self-confidence I'd grown out of feeling like I was truly enough for him. I lost my most intimate relationship which has now been replaced by my best attempt at it. I won't ever be able to look at him without knowing that he made the choice to lie to me and to have sex with all those other women.

Is that part of staying with someone who has betrayed you? Even if you do all the recovery and the therapy and read all the books and go to church and get all the spiritual growth...is the pain of being lied to always going to be there?

Over and over again the feeling/thought/image that goes through my head is that I disappeared. I didn't exist for him. Why was it so easy to forget about me? Why was it so simple to lie to me? Why did I not matter enough for the truth?

The answer that will always have to be good enough is that Husband was sick. He was a sex addict. He wasn't acting rationally.

So now that he's on the path to healing and recovery, becoming more and more whole and complete, I'm here trying to deal with the discontinuity, the kind of mind-fuck turn my life has taken. The thing that pisses me off is that he always had the full picture. He always knew what was going on. He doesn't have to deal with the crazy making feelings and thoughts that come with finding out you thought you had one life when you really had another.

I've been exercising, and that helps I think, but I'm still struggling with the anxiety and fear. Maybe it's exacerbated by the fact that it's June - the month I discovered it all. But I was fine on June 1. I don't know...I don't know what the source of this is. All I know is that right now I feel anxious, twitchy, nauseous, and really sad.

I'm talking to another SAnon tonight, and I highlighted all the people in my group who are also staying with their SA partners. I have to pick up the phone.

How do I re-establish intimacy?

I’ve been struggling with this for a long time. And I don’t mean just sex, although that’s part of it.

Finding out that Husband, my best and most trusted friend, had been secretly having sex with prostitutes for years, while also being the guy who would say in a very definitive way that he couldn’t understand infidelity, shifted the world as I knew it. Which, at 43, was unexpected to say the least.

Part of the way I’ve handled being so deeply betrayed is to take the Buddhist perspective (as I understand it) that the only constant in life it that things change. In that context, to expect a human being to be consistent or predictable is to set one’s self up for disappointment at best.

To expect someone to always love you, always have good judgment, always have my best interests at heart…to always be 100% well-adjusted and always have great communication skills, always be 100% aware of their impact on others…to reach a state of perfection and STAY there. Well, that’s living in denial of the One True Constant. (I capitalized those words, not the Buddha.)

As I write, I hear that I’m nothing if not an absolutist. In all fairness to myself, that changes too.

So, my logic continues, the only person you can really count on to secure your well-being is yourself. (Not that we always do this for ourselves, but we always have the option of taking up our own cause; whereas we don’t have any control over whether or not someone else does right by us.)

Since adopting this philosophy I’ve made great effort to be my own advocate and champion. I try to get clarity around what works for me and what doesn’t, and then speak up or steer myself away from getting stuck in the muck or banging my head against unresponsive walls.

The problem is that in my attempt to be fully responsible for myself and not place my well-being in the hands of others, I’ve gotten to the point where I could say again what I said to Husband that hurt him so much when we first started dating: “I don’t need you.”

It may well be that no man is an island, but I’m pretty good at it myself.

But that’s not where I want to be, because that’s not the existence I want. I don’t want to feel separate all my life. I believe humans in their healthiest state are coupling animals. I have no lack of loving relationships in my life, but I want to have an intimate, loving, long-lasting partnership.

So here’s the catch.

How do I develop that when I believe people are unpredictable? (How, when in fact I have hard evidence of this unpredictability?)

Trust seems to be such a big ingredient in intimacy. But I don’t know. Maybe that’s just a line I read in a book somewhere. Maybe you can be intimate without the vulnerability required by trust.

I was wondering today if the intimacy people feel when they are codependent is just not possible without enmeshment. Am I looking for an intensity that simply isn’t available when one practices loving detachment? Or is there a different kind of intimacy that I have yet to experience?

In my favorite quotes on marriage, Rilke said "even between the closest people infinite distances exist..." So is there an equally satisfying intimacy that arises when we lovingly co-exist, and accept the risk of the mystery that each of us is to the other?

Sure sounds nice. But I’m not there yet. And I don’t even know if there’s a there there. So instead I’m a little sad and lonely.

Where is that balance? Where is that place where I’m not defined by Husband, my happiness is not bound to Husband, where I am whole and complete without Husband, and yet I share a deep, intimate connection with Husband and trust him enough to be vulnerable? How can I trust, knowing that people, like all things, are ultimately unpredictable?

Husband may not lie again, but he might drop dead tomorrow. If I allow the deep kind of connection I had with him before, I open myself up to that great loss all over again. How can I be whole and complete and still feel such a great sense of loss? That doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t understand where that sweet spot exists – where a healthy self-reliance overlaps with putting my heart in the hands of an unpredictable human being.

Deep love feels to me like that trust game you play in drama class, where you close your eyes and fall back into the arms of the group on faith that they will catch you. But if the world is unpredictable, how can I let go and trust that someone will be there to catch me?

I know I can pick myself up, but it’s the pain of falling when you had so much faith that I just don’t want to bear again.

Is all this reflection and philosophizing may just be my way of obscuring from myself that I’m just afraid and protecting myself? In the Carnes book I'm reading (which I highly recommend) it talks about how thinking things through can become a tactic for avoiding action.

Maybe the self-reliance I think I’m practicing is just plain old withdrawal and unwillingness to let myself be hurt again. Maybe it’s the same emotional lockdown I went into when I found out my dad was lying to us about running off to seek treatment for terminal illness when I was 12. That was when I decided I’d never need men, and I carried that with me into my relationship with Husband until it was slowly replaced by trust.

A lot of questions and not many answers these days.

Ready or not...

Husband recently gave me a book he's been using in his therapy group. "I think you'll like it," he said. I just finished reading the introduction, and was completely inspired by the last few sentences of it.

"A whole new level of being present to life can result with recovery. Life is never the same. There is no going back. Consider yourself called." - Recovery Zone by Patrick Carnes

That definitely resonates with my experience.

As I read on, I realized that I have chosen to try to stay with my family, I have chosen to try to stay with my marriage...but I don't know if I've actually chosen to stay with Husband and I think until I make that choice, I won't be able to do some of the deeper healing that I feel is available to me. I think I'm still holding Husband at a distance (not surprising considering that he decimated the world as I knew it, and his actions were the source of deep pain and anguish for me) but that is painful because the intimacy that I want to have is not there.

I do feel a whole new level of being present to life. I do feel that life will never be the same, and that there's no going back. And I do feel called into something greater than I ever imagined. But something is still missing. And I think that missing thing is the intimacy that I can have with Husband now that we're both actively in recovery, and continuing to reap the discoveries made possible by that work and by therapy.

I think that distance is layer of protection, and that layer as well as my realization of it are all part of my process. Nothing to regret, but something to ponder.

How do I achieve that intimacy with someone who feels so threatening?

As always, I think the answer is surrender. Surrender to the possibility of loss and grief and pain, and to the fact that no matter what, I can't protect myself from those things 100%, especially if I want to live my life to the fullest.

I get that, but it's scary. It feels like the hardest miles of a marathon, and I don't know if I'm ready. But it's probably more a matter of finding the willingness to surrender, rather than the readiness.

No "fuck you"

Because I have decided to try to work on my relationship with Husband, I've never had that final fuck-you moment. I've never been able to declare myself completely free of his influence and power over me.

Instead I have said, "Yes, I gave you power over me - I gave you my trust. You betrayed that trust. And instead of withdrawing I'm choosing to trust you again. I'm giving you the power to hurt and betray me again."

We are two different people now, so there is no going back to what we had before. We have no choice but to create something new.

So maybe it's not as crazy as it feels sometimes.

But sometimes I have doubts. Sometimes I imagine doing to him what he's done to me. Except if I consider it for any length of time the cost always seems too great.

Tonight he said to me in mock exasperation, "I love you so much I can't stand it!" I used to feel that way about him. But now I don't know that I'll ever be able to feel that way again. Maybe that's the trade-off for the gains I've made. I give up that child-like, carefree, unfettered kind of love in exchange for learning how to live in the world as an adult woman, responsible for my own happiness and well being.

Do grown-up women love their partners so much they can't stand it?

I wish I could feel that kind of enthusiasm for Husband again. He's a great partner, great father, a good, kind, intelligent person. But since I've never been able to declare myself no longer vulnerable to him, will I always be protecting myself in some way, thereby forsaking any possibility of the depth of intimacy I used to feel?

I've said that being betrayed by Husband made me feel like I'd been shot by the fellow soldier I was sharing a fox hole with. Now, after the work we've done individually and as a couple, I feel confident that Husband is still a good fox hole partner. I think he'd always have my back. But there's also a part of me that is poised for anything to happen. Not because of him, but because of me. Something to do with not being able to let go of the past. Maybe it's resentment, maybe it's realizing who I'm really married to and being less enamored of that man than the man I thought I'd married. I try to focus on gratitude, because there is a lot to be grateful for in the man that Husband is. But sometimes I can't overcome my fear and confusion. Even when I feel firmly in the present, not wanting a different past, not worrying about the future...I still don't feel the same free, deep, joyful love for him that I used to. Maybe this is just the process of getting to know the person he really is and falling in love with that person. It took 20 years to get to where we were before, so maybe it just takes time (more time than I thought) to rebuild that level of vulnerability and trust.

Sometimes I feel so good on my path, and sometimes I feel so lost and stuck.

Boundaries and Consequences (but I'm not your mother)

In my group therapy last night we brought lists of boundaries and consequences we'd drawn up. Specifically these are boundaries with regard to our sex addicted partners.

Before doing this list, I realized that while there was one clear boundary that I'd communicated (no sexual contact with anybody else while we're married) I hadn't communicated other boundaries around sex addiction issues, nor had I articulated any consequences for broken boundaries.

I've been resisting doing this kind of list because I refuse to draw up a list of rules Husband has to follow. I want my partner to have his own moral compass, and responsibility for his own thoughts and feelings, and to use recovery tools, support groups and therapists to address compulsive behavior - NOT to turn to something I've spelled out to know what is okay and what's not.

I'm not his mother and I don't want to be.

However, knowing my boundaries, thinking them through in detail, is good for me. It's part of my self-definition. What works for me, and what doesn't. So this is my list-in-progress of what doesn't work for me (in other words, boundaries to protect me, not to control him):

It doesn't work for me if Husband:
1) has sexual contact of any kind with anyone else, in person or otherwise.
2) lies, hides or purposely omits anything that I would want to know as his partner.
3) uses porn or media of any kind for sexual activity.
4) visits online prostitution sites, or phones or otherwise contacts prostitutes
5) gets a massage of any kind from a woman (if he needs a theraputic massage, he can get a man)
6) spends large sums of our money without consulting me
7) discontinues weekly 12-step meetings
8) discontinues therapy against the advice of his therapist

He is free to do any of these things, but now he knows that if he chooses to do them he's making a choice that threatens the basic level of comfort and safety I need to feel in our relationship and that there will be consequences for crossing my expressed boundaries.

Even as I write it, it sounds too punishment oriented to me, too much like a list of things not to do if he wants to be a good boy. (Yuk!)

But on the other hand, boundaries without consequences are meaningless, and will get me nowhere in terms of having a strong sense of self.

I never felt the need to establish boundaries with Husband before. At least not about these kinds of things, and not explicitly. (I guess I was assuming wedding vows would count for something.)

But here we are. And that's my recovery work for today.

We agreed that the consequences don't need to be shared, although I did tell him that as long as he's actively participating in recovery I won't end the relationship without discussion. (Though if the boundary crossing is major, we'll have the discussion AFTER he moves out.)

Got a sponsor (I think) just in time

Finally after a year I'm ignoring that voice in my head that's telling me I can do the 12 steps on my own. I ignored that voice tonight when it told me that I didn't want to bother someone else and when it told me that I didn't want to ask for help in case that person I asked didn't want to help me but would be uncomfortable saying so. And I asked. And she said yes, maybe, most likely. And I was so nervous afterward that I forgot where I'd parked. And when I told her that she said she was so nervous after I asked her that she'd almost walked out the window instead of the door. And we talked a bit about how just like the sex addicts, we have issues too. Like intimacy issues, for example. That create such anxiety that we forget where we are and walk out windows instead of doors. She'll let me know next week if she accepts.

I realized last night that something very specific I'm grieving over is the loss of the feeling that I'm special to Husband.

I used to feel like the intimate connection we had was private, precious, and something shared only between the two of us. And though intimacy goes beyond just the physical, now that I know he's held, caressed, kissed, and had sex with so many other women during our marriage, it's hard to believe that I'm special - or at least as special as I thought I was. And that makes me sad. Perhaps that need arises from a childish fairy tail picture in my head that doesn't really exist between adults. Perhaps it's my own narcissistic tendencies or my need for validation that leaves me sad that I no longer feel special.

I've always loved the song English Rose, and that's the feeling that I miss. That some one person on the planet loves me so deeply that nothing can come between us.

Husband had a bad day today. He woke up not having slept well (sleep apnea) and went on to have a frustrating day - one little annoying thing after another. I went to meet him this afternoon after he'd discovered he'd left his headlights on and drained his battery. He was cranky and I felt like he was full of contained frustration. What made it worse was that this morning I sat down at the computer to find that he'd created a Resentment List in his Google Docs account. I assume it's part of his work with his sponsor or therapy group or something. And it took everything I had to close that window and not read that list. But this afternoon, and later in the day I couldn't stop myself from feeling like he was resenting me for some reason. When he's tired, I think he resents the world. Anyway...I imagine this is what he felt when he justified sex with prostitutes and the lies he told me. And that scares me. Scares me, scares me. I'm afraid of his resentment.

Why? I can't quite figure it out. What comes to mind is that I'm afraid he'll stop trying, stop loving me, break my heart again. His resentment is a big part of his sickness. I'm afraid of how much it allows him to justify.

I also see this is part of my pattern of being afraid of any bad feelings I think he has because of what they might mean about me. A symptom of my lack of self-definition: In my crazy head I'm constantly defined by the thoughts and feelings of people around me. This leaves Husband feeling absolutely no space for having these kinds of feelings where I'm concerned. He's said many times that he feels he can never express when he's angry with me, and his experience is that I turn his anger into a character flaw while justifying my own so thoroughly that I don't see what I'm doing. "When I'm angry, there's something wrong with me," he says. "When you're angry, there's something wrong with the world."

While I was helping him with his battery, he went back inside his office building to use the restroom and I started looking through for his phone, which he said he thought was lost somewhere in the car. (His car is a pretty big mess, so from time to time he does lose his phone in there.) Suddenly my heart started pounding as I thought about the possibility of finding a porn magazine among all the magazines, papers and other stuff in the back seat.

I didn't find anything. But I did realize that it's still a very strong possibility in my mind. When I sense that resentment, targeted at me or not, I get afraid of what he might justify as a result of that.

I know he has help, I know he has tools, and I know I'm powerless. That helps me stay on my side of the street, but it doesn't help so much with the fear I feel.

This is why I'm so happy to be getting a sponsor and starting on the 12 steps. This is my Year of Self-Definition. This is the year that I will learn to value myself, whether Husband values me, loves me, thinks I'm special or not. So that if things do fall apart, I will still be whole.

The price of feeling comfortable

"Do not ignore reality in order to comfort yourself, for once you do, you make it easy for others to deceive you." - The Dragon Saphira in Christopher Paolini's book Eldest

I was listening to a CD recording of this book with my son today, and was stunned by that line. Dispite his disgruntled protests, I had to rewind and listen to it again. It's such a jarring experience when I get the feeling that the universe (my higher power?) is speaking to me from unexpected places.

The idea fit in so perfectly with a book I've just started, Harriet Lerner's "The Dance of Deception". Lerner has written this book primarily for a female audience, and deals largely with lack of truth in the female experience.

I consider myself a modern woman, as much a feminist as the average forty-something, liberal, college-educated woman might be. But as the tail end of the baby boom, and as one who had until recently felt I'd overcome my personal issues with men, I haven't immersed myself in feminist thought, literature, philosophy, psychology. Honestly, though I know there's still progress to be made, I've felt like the greatest strides of the women's movement were mostly covered by my mother's generation.

But Harriet Lerner's book is causing me to re-examine my experience, my beliefs, my assumptions and the way I've lived my life.

Since this is my Year of Self Definition, calling all of these things into question seems as good a place as any to start.

Where have I ignored reality in order to comfort myself?

Sometimes I fantasize about getting back at him

While I know it's not the path of recovery, sometimes I fantasize about taking a year to have affairs and lie to Husband about it. The idea being of course that he might gain a bit of insight into how it feels to doubt your ability to distinguish reality from lies, how f'd up it feels not to be able to trust your partner, and how hard it is to rebuild trust with someone who has betrayed you so deeply.

The women in my therapy group tonight seemed to feel that given the growth they've had they'd be able to know if their partners were lying. I don't have that confidence. And that really pisses me off. Will I have to live in the shadow of doubt forever, always prepared for the worst, ready for the unimaginable to suddenly become my new reality?

Then I remember MPJ's wise warning that it's a mistake to assume that "making people realize just how poorly they've done or how much they've hurt people is an excellent way to provide that needed motivation, be it in the form of shame, guilt or even empathy."

I also know that not only would this tactic not have the desired result, but I would be compromising who I am, and would most likely feel sadder, angrier and emptier than ever.

But the thought does cross my mind from time to time. I still have flashes of wishing I could hurt him as deeply as I think he's hurt me.

Thank god for groups and therapists, spiritual reading and recovery. In my heart of hearts, even when I'm angry or hurting or questioning the future, I know recovery is the path I really want to be on.

Suspicious emails

Today I was on the computer and saw something that made me take a closer look at Husband's email. I can't even remember what it was now. But I did that, and found that he started receiving emails again from an escort service at the end of May. It looked as though he hadn't received any since April of last year, and then he started getting them again about 4 weeks ago.

I've just spend the last 3 hours (when I should have been working) combing his email and other places for evidence of activity. I found one more from another site, but no evidence of correspondence.

But the fact of the matter is, anything he didn't want me to find out about he could easily hide. He could have other accounts in other names. I guess the best way I have of being sure is bank statements and pay stubs. This way I'll know exactly what's coming in and what's going out. Which would have alerted me years ago if only I'd been paying close attention. But I wasn't. Even now, I don't. Sometimes I go through the bank statement more carefully, looking for large amounts. But that's about it.

There's never going to be any way to be sure, and that's part of what I have to figure out if I can deal with I guess. I hate that my relationship will forever have this aspect to it. At this moment I hate him for bringing this into our lives.

I feel a lot of the same physical sensations I did the first time I found all this - my lips are cold, I'm tense, sick to my stomach.

The word that just popped into my mind is surrender. I'm resisting things. I have to look to see where I can surrender so I can get some peace back. Surrender to how life is, and then decide what I want to do in light of that I guess.

Husband starts his group therapy tonight.