Five years later

I noted a couple days ago that the anniversary of one of the most traumatic days of my life passed unmarked and unnoticed.

That's healing. And for that I am so grateful.

Looking back with gratitude and forward with anticipation

I heard a great quote in my meeting last night: "I feel like a ping pong ball, and I don't know what the paddle is. But something keeps hitting me!" I remember that feeling.

I remember hearing about boundaries, relationship-with-self, self-validation and similar things in the early weeks and months after I found out about Husband's sex addiction. But I had little idea what those things looked like in real life, no understanding of how to start practicing them, and no idea where to get that information.  After reading and asking around, I was still confused about where to begin. So I decided to start by asking myself once simple question: What do I need to feel safe, peaceful, and serene?

The follow-up to that was what can I do that is within my control to make sure I create safety, peace and serenity for myself?

The things that are within my control are the boundaries I set, and the consequences I enforce when they are broken.

Consequences must not be confused with punishment.

• I define a consequence as an action I will take if my boundaries are disregarded to change something that is within my control, resulting in a greater sense of peace and serenity for me.
• I define a punishment as an action I would take in order to change someone else's behavior when they aren't doing what they should be doing.

Boundaries and consequences seem to be on the right track when I enforce them with loving detachment and compassion, rather than with anger and resentment. 

I found that once I started to set boundaries about what I needed to feel safe, "I" started to emerge. I began to have more of an understanding of and relationship with myself - and a better ability to define and validate myself, rather than relying on the judgements and evaluations of others to understand myself and my place in the world.

I don't feel like a ping pong ball anymore. I feel more grounded and secure in who I am than I ever have in my life. That's what I've gotten out of discovering my husband's sex addiction. And there are so many stories like mine, so many stories of recovery and hope from so many who've resisted the temptation, one day at a time, to run, fix, or control others when it felt as if their worlds had exploded into a million unrecognizable shards.

Looking back, I'm grateful for all those who have shared my journey thus far. Looking forward, I'm excited about all the things that are possible for us that weren't possible before.

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.

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!!!

Beyond aversion and separation

Seeing our oneness is the beginning of our compassion, and it allows us to reach beyond aversion and separation. -Sharon Salzberg, “A Quiver of the Heart”

I think the "oneness" Salzberg talks about is integral to my concept of Higher Power.

Higher Power as defined on the SAnon website:
1. A source of help greater than we are; 2. A source of help we define ourselves (for example, the group, nature, God as defined in an established religion, etc.); 3. An ever-present Power greater than ourselves that gives us an increased feeling of peace and comfort when relied upon.

And I think it's through my relationship with this oneness, a power greater than myself, through faith in this bigger picture that I don't always immediately perceive, that I'll be able to reach beyond aversion and separation with Husband, and get to the love that persists.

For truly, I cannot do it alone.

I say this because that's so easy for me to forget. Even after 4 years of recovery, the self-sufficiency that has helped me survive and thrive is my go-to response and the direction in which I drift when I am lulled by the day-to-day into unconscious living.

Will June 1st ever be just another day?

Tonight marks the 4th anniversary of the discovery that instantly and dramatically shifted my understanding of the world.

After 4 years of therapy, reading and recovery groups, I’m a very different person and I have a dramatically different understanding and experience of myself.

I’m aware of the need for boundaries. I understand how to validate myself instead of seeking validation from others. I have and nurture an empowering relationship with myself, in which it’s possible for me to acknowledge my strengths, talents and abilities, as well as my weaknesses, flaws and vulnerabilities. I’ve learned how to be responsible for myself (the topic of my SANON meeting last night) – emotionally, psychologically, financially, physically. I can stand my ground in the grip of fear and uncertainty. I had so much growing I didn’t know I needed to do, and I’ve done a lot.

That’s the upside.

I still have a lot of work to do. First and foremost in my mind is the need for me to find a way to express the anger and resentment I still have about what Husband did. I moved very quickly, probably too quickly, to being reasonable and understanding, to working toward a level-headed resolution. (A winning formula that often works in my favor, but has worked to my detriment in this case.) Most of the time I don’t suffer, but sometimes I’m plagued by thoughts I can’t escape. These thoughts are obstacles to happiness. They are often a bucket of cold water on our sex life. Together with the sudden and bitter rage I sometimes feel, they form the thin but impenetrable barrier I have with Husband.

I’m still afraid of him. He hurt and betrayed me so badly. Sometimes I think I’ll never be able to forgive him – as much as I want to. We have both worked so hard. But though I’m working against this tendency, I’m an absolutist, and I grieve the unblemished trust I had with Husband before I found out about all of his lies. And my most vulnerable part holds itself away from him like tender flesh flinching away from a hot stove. How can I not?

He’s the cobra that lays in wait for me. His presence helps me understand who I can be in the face of fear. It helps me access a strength that I never knew I had. But part of my ability to be with the cobra is the vigilance in my animal brain. That part of me is ready to fly at any moment, ready to say, “I knew it,” ready to sever the knot that joins us and sail for open water without a backward glance. How can we have the depth of intimacy and trust we had before when that part of me stands ready to defend me against undiscovered, unimagined parts of him?

I grieve.

I grieve loss of trust, loss of innocence, loss of respect, loss of passion, loss of lust, loss of a friend, loss of a husband, loss of a confidant, loss of safety and security, loss of bliss, loss of a past, loss of so much I thought I had.

As I write I know the answer lies in letting go somehow. And letting go again, and again, and again until there is nothing left to let go of but one last breath of air.

Letting go of how I want things to be, feel, look, and instead being with what is so, and shaping my life in that context. What kind of life can I make for myself in a world where people you love and trust the most can hurt and betray you so deeply that you feel like you’re walking through fire with all your skin scraped off? That’s a question I need to consider.

Because that’s true.

Little children who’ve been abused and abandoned can attest to a confusing and unpredictable world. Sometimes people who love you hurt you more than your enemies ever could. It happens.

Letting go of the idea that I can create safety. The right person, right job, right situation, right word, right moment…if only I can find The Right SOMETHING I’ll know I’m safe. What kind of life can I make for myself in a world where the only thing I can count on is that everything is temporary, everything changes? That’s a question I need to consider.

Because that’s true.

We can plan, anticipate, and be vigilant, and yet a loving parent can get cancer, an innocent child can be killed in a car crash, and a trusted husband can have a secret life. It happens.

Letting go of judgments of my circumstances as good or bad, right or wrong, fair or unfair, black or white, and just experiencing each moment as nothing more or less than a moment on my path, every challenge as an opportunity to grow or turn away from growth.

Because that’s true, too.

But some judgments and wishes I find hard to let go of.

I am sad, so sad, about the good things I feel I’ve lost: The ability to trust Husband completely, the certainty that Husband would always be a warm, safe port in any storm, the indescribable, unmatchable bond I felt when I looked at him, and the history of being true to and for each other that we shared.

I agree it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But what do you do when you’ve loved and lost and you still choose to lead a life together? How do I stop wishing for a past I thought I had with his presence as a constant reminder of what never was and will now never be?

In this world as it really is, what kind of life am I willing to create? What am I willing to risk? What am I willing to demand?

Even after 4 years, I don’t have answers for many of my questions. I don’t know if June 1st will ever be just another day. Perhaps after 4 or 8 or 16 more years I will tire of this bit of suffering and finally let go of questions.

Maybe I’ll do that that tomorrow. The timeline for all of this is another thing for which I have no answer.

Maybe freedom lies in letting go of the assumption that there are answers.

Surrendering purpose to moments that I can fill with love, without attachment to a result.

Love Husband and be loved by him without attachment to the result?

My grasp of all that is fleeting, like a little ghost girl playing hide and seek with me.

The best I can do now is hold tight to the reins of the beastly fears I sometimes ride, whisper my now-favorite mantra, “…every challenge as an opportunity to grow or turn away from growth,” try to let go of those wishes, detach from the outcome, and breathe deeply into the gritty intensity of reality as it really is.

I read an article today about a miracle pill that can erase painful memories and wondered to myself if I would take that pill. The pain is what sharpens all the details of life – the good as well as the bad. If I dull that pain, mute it so that it is only a vague notion, instead of facing it head on like a warrior, would I sacrifice all that I’ve gained? Since I’ve been through so much and reaped the benefits of those battles, I’m not willing to give up that hard won ground. I’m not here to live in a blissful haze. Maybe that’s what I was doing before all this. But I feel like Neo in the Matrix, and now there’s no going back.

Note to self: Do not turn away from fear

I just read this quote, and it encapsulates one of the fundamental things I've learned from this journey:

"To willingly reside in our distress, no longer resisting what is, is the real key to transformation. As painful as it may be to face our deepest fears, we do reach the point where it's more painful not to face them. This is a pivotal point in the practice life." - Ezra Bayda, “Bursting the Bubble of Fear”

A hard-earned lesson that I don't want to forget.

Three and a half years ago, I would never have imagined...

I haven't written for a while. At first because I felt like a needle skipping across a scratched LP, repeating and repeating a chorus of nagging thoughts and reactions I was tired of having. And then because one day I realized I was unstuck, and there was nothing to be worked out.

There was no drama, no euphoria. I just realized that I'd been spending more time in the present with Husband, and that was why I was feeling better.

The man I used to be married to did One Big Terrible Thing and hurt me more than I ever imagined possible. But the man I'm married to now, although genetically identical to that first man, is a completely different person.

The man I'm married to now is living inside recovery. He's been looking for ways to be of service to our family and to others. He cooks meals, does dishes, takes care of our son, takes care of me in many nice ways. He's much more self-aware, able to admit that he's wrong, able to apologize, able to take responsibility for his impact on others.

After 2 years of trying, Husband has gotten a job. He had his first day on Monday. It's a great relief to me because, like Citibank, we were days, if not hours away from financial collapse. It's a miracle that we still have our house. Since he got the good news (just days before Christmas!) he's been looking forward to the job as an opportunity to go in and do good work and make a difference. Where before he seemed to me to do just enough at work to not get fired (coming in for a couple hours before and after those long lunches during which he went to the movies and saw prostitutes,) now he seems to be grateful for the opportunity, humble, and thinking about how he can do a really good job. No longer is he living inside the fantasy of being a Creative Genius just biding time until his Big Break, full of all the disdain and resentment that goes with that mentality. Instead he's a husband and a father, lucky enough to have employment during hard times, and grateful for being able to help support his family and meet his financial responsibilities.

We have a budget and we're sticking to it. We're not living in denial or fantasy about how much money we have. We're not overspending because we "deserve" some luxuries here and there. Instead we're seeking out the true pleasures in life - time with people we love and value, home cooking, hanging out at the beach, reading good books, taking care of the things that need our attention like adults. There is a new quality to our life together that seems to be really blossoming right now.

It's like the elevator door has opened and I've found myself on a different floor. The view is better from here.

I'm enjoying the moment.

How far I've come

Last night I was looking at some phrases I've kept on a piece of paper beside the bed to remind me about what I've learned from discovering Husband's sex addiction.

• I can find peace and freedom in surrender and gratitude
• I'm powerless. Just admit it and surrender (over and over and over again)
• One day at a time.
• My most important relationship is with my higher power, which I am an expression of
• My most important actions are to use my life and my abilities to be of service as an expression of love, compassion and non-duality, and to celebrate everything I have.
• If I listen for it I will always hear the voice of higher power.
• Pain, fear and all kinds of adversity are opportunity. I can allow both the good and the bad to be gifts.
• What am I resisting?
• I can always choose the most empowering context.
• Surrendering to the moment at hand is usually the most powerful response.
• Have fun!
• If I forget all of this, remembering is the next part of my journey

As I looked at that list, I realized how much of this has become who I am. I don't need this piece of paper as much as I used to, because much of what I've learned has become fundamentally integrated into my approach to the world.

It made me happy to realize that I've really grown and changed in some very potent ways.

I'm proud of myself, because it wasn't an easy road, and it could have gone many different ways.

I'm still growing and developing, but now I have these new tools that have become part of me that make me stronger in the world. Stronger for myself.

There have been a lot of challenging things happening in my life lately. An unanticipated hysterectomy, discovering Husband had been looking at Sports Illustrated swimsuit models online again, the loss of my 14 year-old dog to cancer, the loss of a business partnership, job interviews for big jobs, and falling behind on the mortgage.

Through all of this, I've used the new tools I've learned - turning things over to higher power, new levels of confidence, speaking up for myself without worrying about being "reasonable," operating as if I deserve all good things that come to me, surrendering, praying, listening for higher power, choosing a context that empowers me, and not running from fear, pain or adversity...

I can feel my own strength in ways I never have before. I can feel a relationship with myself that I never had before.

I feel ready for the world, ready for any challenge, ready to make the most of every opportunity. All this is new, and thanks to the work I've done.

It's been worth it.

A useful distinction

I made a useful distinction today that I don't want to forget: Taking responsibility for others lives leads to pain and frustration, while taking responsibility for one's self is liberating and empowering.

Boy, I wish I'd realized that 40 years ago.

Pulling into the present (again)

Since I wrote about creating a deep, connected, loving partnership with this new man who stands where the man I married once stood I've had more peace, both in my relationship and in my self.

When I focus on connecting with Husband, he responds and I feel the possibility of our future together. When I freak out and withdraw into thinking about the past, I feel alone and isolated from him.

It's a hard line, because fully processing what happened is healthy and valuable to me, and seems to have its own timeline.

But when I can recognize that I'm feeling a way that doesn't serve me, that isn't uplifting or moving my life forward, I can try this technique of focusing on creating a deep loving connection with this person in my life now who wants to do just that from his side as well.

It seems to have made a big difference in how I've been feeling.

Metaphors, puns and rambling out of the fog

My son was in tears the other day because he accidentally erased his profile on his Nintendo DS game Lego Battles. He explained to my mother, who couldn't understand the problem this presented, that it meant that everything he'd accomplished, done, overcome, figured out, and scored over the past month of playing this game was gone and he had to start over with a blank slate.

"Exactly!" I thought as I listened to his wailing.

My slate feels so blank sometimes, because I've gone from believing that there were a very few things that I could absolutely count on to believing that impermanence is possibly the only thing I can count on and that despite all indications there is no way to have any certainty about the future at all. This perspective, while feeling less delusional than past certainties, also sends me into a bit of an existential freak-out. It feels too big and scary and lonely for it to be just me and my higher power. I admit it: I want something to cling to. I want to know something for sure. "I want to be able to count on something," I told my therapist.

She gently suggested that the Buddhist perspective on this (because she knows I swing that way) might be along the lines of finding gratitude for the present moment, and I realized (again) that this is where peace is for me. Since I believe that impermanence is the only constant and the future is unknowable, peace has no other place to wait for me aside from the present moment. Little comfort as I sat in my therapist's office, but my brain could grasp it and begin to make sense of the world again. Okay, so as my mind swished down the toilet of past pain and fear about the future, I had forgotten about staying in the present. But now I was remembering again. The cold fingers of my dark confusion began to loosen their grip.

The bumper sticker I get out of this experience: There is nothing good at the bottom of the toilet.

I don't feel completely alone, actually. I have girlfriends whom I still believe I can count on to be who I think they are. But in my relationship I don't have that sense of security any more. I can count on Husband 99.9% when it comes to our son. But when it comes to me...when it comes to counting on him to take me into consideration when he does something...that's where I'm afraid. I believed in this 100% before and got burned.

I told my therapist that sometimes it feels like Husband is a hot stove that I'm afraid to touch again. As we talked I realized that my subconscious assumption has been that the stove would burn me again if I touched it. But my conscious mind doesn't think that. I'm not afraid that Husband would be able to betray me again the way he did before. I have training about stoves that I didn't have before! So it was a good opening for me to realize that I'm not trying to touch a hot stove again. I'm just trying to touch the stove to see what it feels like now, and I'm not reaching out unprotected. More importantly, I need to remind myself (again) what I realized more than a year ago: Because he's in recovery, Husband probably isn't a stove anymore.

I've been caught up (again) trying to make sense of things. (Perhaps this cycle of "agains" is something I just have to surrender to.) I want things to make sense. But the lying Husband did is something that will never make sense to me. How do you so deeply betray someone you love? I can fantasize about it, but when it comes down to it, I could never go through with it. I'd have to hate him in order to lie to him the way he did to me. That's how I'm built. And he is built differently. And now we're both working on our defective parts, rebuilding our engines. They will always be different engines, but hopefully they will work better than they did before and we'll be able to finish out this road trip together.

I think a lot of this circling back is because there's anger and resentment I haven't fully expressed and it's surfacing and that's a good thing. Those things are hard for me because I never learned about openly expressing those feelings as a child. But now's my chance.

My friend recently wrote on her blog about a palm tree outside her window that was cut down, and how it took only minutes to destroy something that had taken years to grow. I told Husband this is how I feel about our relationship, and why I think it's sometimes such a struggle. The tree that was my understanding of the world has been cut down and there's no putting it back. He nodded and put his arms around me.

Replant. Give water and light. (Perhaps some therapy and the love and support of friends.) Wait. And don't lose faith that a big tree can grow from a little nut.

Later I asked him if there was anything we needed to talk about from the arguments and discussions we'd had over the past few days. "I'm afraid to tell you this, because I don't want you to feel responsible for my feelings, but when you say you can't count on anything I feel terrible. I know that you can't know anything absolutely for sure, but I'm going to do my best to be someone you can count on for the rest of my life."

Just when I need it most, my higher power chimes in. I'm both surprised and not surprised at all.

Digging deeper on my side of the street

Husband and I were beginning to make love one night last week, and I was wrestling with being trapped in my head.

Earlier in the evening as I was washing dishes somehow my mind went to thinking about how husband could have been spending his time with prostitutes while I was going about my daily life doing mundane things like washing dishes and not realizing what unimaginable physical intimacies he was sharing with other women. After that, all evening long my thoughts strayed down this path of invasive pictures forming in head.

I was going back and forth about whether or not to say anything to Husband, but I decided that this was my opportunity to get practice at getting myself back to the present while I was on a downward spiral. So I continued wrestling while trying to engage in making love with Husband at the same time.

The struggle in my head intensified as I was giving Husband a massage, because this was how the whole prostitution thing took off (massage parlors) and was a part of most of his sessions with prostitutes. Things were getting worse and worse, with every touch leading down some dark path of images. My heart was racing, and I realized that I was feeling a lot of anxiety and fear. As we continued kissing and caressing part of me was thinking very hard about what it was that I was afraid of.

I reached down and found that he'd lost his erection. He's middle aged, so that's not completely unusual, although I always have that little voice in the back of my mind that makes me consider the possibility that he is bored with me. Suddenly, he pulled away.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why, but I'm really in my head right now," he said.

A rush of relief flowed through me as I laughed and told him all about how I was so in my head, too. I confessed that I'd been struggling with a PTSD spiral of invasive images all evening, and that I'd been trying to figure out how to pull myself into the present without bringing him into it. We talked about it, and he said, "When in doubt, it's probably always best to talk about things. You're not responsible for my feelings or my reaction."

He has grown tremendously, so much that he's really able to support me when I'm feeling vulnerable and anxious. It was an amazing experience to be "seen" by him when I thought I was doing such a great job of concealing my struggle to get fully into the moment.

So I took all this to therapy last weekend (I would have forgotten, but Husband firmly encouraged me to write it down, so I wrote "Fear of - I don't know what. Fear of things that have happened in the past. Not afraid that it will happen again. But just have fear.")

Well...SURPRISE (to me, at least)! I thought I was trying to do the evolved thing and get myself back into the present. But what I didn't see was that I was using my old ways of handling things myself, trying to control Husband's experience (I didn't want him to feel bad about things that seem like they should be resolved for me by now,) and withholding myself to avoid being out of control (talking about what's going on while not knowing how Husband might respond.) In hindsight I could see that I was already feeling so out of control and in the grips of fear and anxiety in my spiral of thoughts and images, that the way I was trying to regain some sense of stability was to clamp down and get back "in control" by taking care of my feelings all by myself.

So I've told Husband that I'm going to try to talk about my feelings, and face my fear of things being messy and out of my control. I want intimacy, not a secret island of safety where I know I won't be hurt because I'm completely in control and alone.

I don't exactly know how to do this, because "handling it myself" is like water to a fish for me. It's really hard for me to distinguish when I'm doing this because it's deeply integrated into who I am in the world. But I know that the other side of discomfort and pain can be freedom if I stay with those things long enough to get present to the fact that all things change, and to my willingness to have faith that I have everything I need, and that my higher power answers before I ask.

Transition out of therapy

Since the beginning of June, and at the suggestion of his therapist, Husband has concluded both his individual and group therapy. Husband consulted me about this decision, and said that his therapist had offered to see us together if I was uncomfortable with this transition. But I decided that if both of them felt he was ready, and as long as Husband was planning to continue attending regular SAA and OA meetings, from my perspective I could see so much growth and progress that it seemed like a natural time to take this step.

Then, last weekend, Husband and I realized we also both felt ready to end our regular couples therapy. Our therapist agreed that if we felt ready, in her opinion we were ready.

We left both therapists with an open-door policy, meaning we can return at any time for a "tune-up" or to resume regular sessions.

And this week, according to the plan Husband and I had discussed, I resumed my individual therapy with the therapist who was seeing us as a couple. I have uncovered a lot of family of origin issues that I was unaware of (nothing dramatic, but certainly important to my experience of life) and I realized I need to be challenged in this area before I slip into complacency, which is so easy to do when life feels good.

My goals for therapy are to continue to explore where I'm not setting boundaries, and to further develop my own self-definition and relationship with myself. Having never been in individual therapy outside of the crisis of discovering Husband's sex addiction, I have a conversation in my head telling me that it's indulgent. Surely there are millions of people more in need of help than me. But a different part of me recognizes this as an old conversation, so I'm actually going through with this. I don't expect to spend years in therapy, but I think 6 months to a year will give me a solid foundation of learning, growth and practice around being a strong, self-aware, self-defined, self-loving, adult woman assuming full responsibility for my experience, and accepting all the love and support that comes into my life at the same time.

I am grateful, thankful, and appreciate the chance to be a human being in this world, right here, right now. To quote that Jesus Jones song that Husband loves, "There's no other place else I want to be..."

Happy Anniversary to Me!

On June 1, 2007 my life disintegrated when I found out that my husband and best friend of 20 years had spent tens of thousands of dollars having intercourse with high priced prostitutes for the past 3 1/2 years, and had been visiting strip clubs for lap dances since before we were married. I never had reason to suspect a thing, (in fact my husband always spoke with disdain about infidelity) and I would have bet my son's life on my husband's honesty.

Because we had a child, I chose not to leave immediately (as my whole being was screaming out that I should do, and I would have were it not for our son.) I decided to take actions that were aligned with what I wanted the outcome to be. Even though I couldn't begin to imagine at the time how it would be possible, what I wanted was for us to be able to be together to provide a loving stable environment for our little boy. I wasn't going to stay if it didn't seem to be heading in that direction, but I was willing to stay long enough to try.

Over the past 2 years we both entered individual therapy for the first time in our lives, and also went into couples therapy with someone who specailizes in sex addiction. We started attending recovery meetings regularly (SANON for me and SAA and OA for him.) And we both began individual explorations of spirituality.

Two years ago the life I'd thought I was living was destroyed. And today, I have peace, serenity, clarity and a relationship with myself that I never even knew was possible. (I'm still learning and growing from this experience - the more I learn and grow the more I see where I can learn and grow, in a very positive way. ) Husband and I also have a better relationship than either of us ever knew we could have.

I've learned that for me I'll never say "forever" again, because things change due to forces beyond my control. But taking my life and my marriage one day at a time, I can honestly say that I have come to not regret the past, and that I don't wish to shut the door on it. It's still difficult to say with total authenticity that I'd choose all the pain I've gone through again, but I can say definitively that I don't know how else I would have had the growth and learning that I've had over the past 2 years. The leaps and bounds I've made are a direct result of the discomfort and groundlessness of discovering such profound betrayal. I was left with no choice but to grow and learn exponentially or be annihilated by pain, loss, dispair and hopelessness.

I am thankful. I am grateful. And I am here to say that it's possible to survive discovery of a partner's sex addiction and come out healthier and happier (whether or not you stay together) on the other side of it. Everybody's circumstance and everybody's journey is different. My story is only one story. For those of you struggling to maintain hope where hope seems impossible, my experience is that having gotten support and having focused on myself rather than the addict, I have not only survived this, but I've blossomed as a result. I have realized aspects of myself that were previously unknown to me: I've found more strength, more confidence, more compassion, more courage; I've found I'm a more loving person, a more honest person, a more forgiving person, a more courageous person, a more conscious person, a more spiritual person. I am more fully myself - the self that has always been there, but that I've never had a relationship with until now.

Force fields up, phasers set to vaporize

I'm feeling more stable now that my walls are firmly in place.

I'm still connecting with my feelings, but I have decided to take off the wife and lover hats, as Sophie wrote to me explaining how she handles trust in her marriage to an addict.

I had to deliver something to a client today, and ended up parking right in front of the Oriental Massage place where Husband got his first taste of prostitution. Massage with happy ending.

We lived right around the corner from that place at the time he started visiting it. I always wondered when I passed it what kind of a place it was. I'd heard about "oriental massage" from a friend whose husband had experienced the happy ending at a posh hotel in Hong Kong.

I decided that it was time to face this head on. I'd been avoiding driving by the place, and getting anxious every time I knew I'd be near it. So I got out of the car, walked up and opened the door.

It opened right into a dingy, white space that was 3x8 with a counter running the length of it. A sign read "No one under 21 allowed." I glanced around the small space, wondering what Husband was thinking when he opened that same door for the first time. He knew why he was there...I'm sure of that now.

A bell had rung as I entered and Asian woman came out after a moment in response. She muttered something indecipherable.

"This is where my husband first got introduced to prostitution, so I just wanted to see it," I said. I glanced around, looked at her as she muttered something else, and then I shut the door.

My heart was pounding. I felt like I'd looked into the mouth of a beast. But I also felt strength, having faced something that had become such a symbol in my mind.

I continued to the next building to visit my client, heart still pounding as I rode the elevator up and waited in the lobby. Pounding as I talked to the cheerful woman who greeted me. But eventually my chest calmed, and my mind moved into the present moment.

When I returned to my car, a final glance at that door confirmed that I'd vanquished something. Although I could feel my heart pounding again. I took a deep breath, switched on NPR, and pulled into traffic repeating a favorite mantra under my breath. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay..." In the present it's okay.

Our couples therapy session Tuesday night was good. I expressed a lot of the anger and pain I'd been keeping inside. Husband talked about what the experience of slipping was like for him, from the cigarette and shot to the stupid hair salon to the sneaking money. Our therapist suggested that he do whatever he can to demonstrate that he's trustworthy so I can begin to see over time again that he's actively in recovery and not lying about it.

I told her that I really had no idea what he was doing - going to meetings or lying about it, going to his therapist or lying about it. I had no idea any more about the validity of anything coming out of his mouth. She said that if he was lying on such a massive scale, if he was pulling away from the recovery community like that, he'd demonstrate in other areas of life behavior that would be clearly addict or narcissist behavior, and he'd be oblivious to it. In other words, I'd get some trustworthy flags. That made sense to me. That helped. I may not be able to tell when he's lying to my face, but I know I'd be able to pick up on other addict / narcissist behaviors.

So now, I'm giving it time. Time, time, time. Weeks? Months? Years? I don't know. My priority is me and my son. Right now Husband is my partner in raising our son, managing our finances and the logistics of life. I have the parent hat on. I don't know when the other hats will feel right. The friend, the wife, the lover...

I feel resentment about the fact that I feel alone in the world, without an intimate relationship to trust, without a partner I can feel safe to trust and love freely. I'm pissed about that. But I breathe. I read. I do step work. I work on my relationship with higher power. I try to remember not to do it alone, to reach out to others.

Something that's odd for me is that while I don't want to reach out to Husband, I don't want him to stop reaching out to me. I need to be able to remain detatched, but I also need to feel Husband's love for me. I feel like an animal that's been hit, craving touch but freezing in my tracks so I can detect whether it's going to be a blow or a caress and respond to save my life if I have to. So dramatic, huh?

I don't feel like a victim. But I am disappointed. Disappointed and sad. And angry. But I'm also stronger, more grounded, more in touch with myself, and grateful for the progress I've made with my own issues.

Here come the brides

It's that time of year, and we had a wedding to attend this weekend. Two old friends of ours. The wedding was simple, the vows beautiful, and the whole experience much less painful for me than weddings last year at this time.

As I listened to the vows about passing through doubt and disappointment and stepping into the light of faith, I thought about how much that is part of what it takes to make it for the long haul. When they said to each other, "I place my trust in you and I give you my heart..." I wondered what that meant to them, and how it would play out over the coming years.

Weddings still bring up a lot of questions, but fortunately not so much pain. More signs of healing and recovery.

One Year Later

The beginning of the most deeply painful experience I've ever had was a year ago today. It was the day I discovered that my lover, partner, and best friend of 20 years had been lying to me and seeking out sexual activity with other women outside our relationship since before our marriage.

"I hope you enjoyed your time with Angie." I'll never forget the words I read in that email from the escort service that began to unravel the horrible truth over the course of that Friday evening after which my life would be profoundly and irrevocably changed.

A year ago I had no idea what today would bring. I remember thinking about my wedding vows, about what it meant to have made the decision to publicly declare my commitment to spending the rest of my life with Husband. To me that meant that when the going got rough I was going to give it my best to work things out. With that in mind, I decided the next day, or maybe even that night, I really don't remember, that the result I wanted was to try to stay together, mostly for the sake of my son. So I made decisions based on what would cause that outcome. I didn’t leave. I didn’t kick him out. I didn’t tell the world about his lies, the sex with prostitutes, the tens of thousands of dollars he’d spent, the anguish I was experiencing at this profound betrayal.

After a solitary drive that ended up at the beach, I came home and took my son to his martial arts class on Saturday morning. As usual my mom came with us. I couldn't say anything to her because I knew she'd never be able to forgive Husband, and would forever be trying to use this against him. My close girlfriend was there with her son, and she could tell something was not right with me. She put her arms around me and hugged me tightly. "I really needed that," I said. She'd recommended a therapist for me before, and I got the information again from her that day and immediately made an appointment.

Monday morning I was in my therapist's office. She introduced me to the concept of sex addiction, and gave me a list of suggestions for Husband. I met him for lunch later that day and passed on the information. "You can do whatever you want." I told him. I wasn't going to lay down any rules or ultimatums. I was not going to step into the role of parent and tell him what he had to do to make up for what he'd done. I wanted to see what he would do, and then make my choices accordingly. He said he'd start going to SAA meetings and see a therapist, but that he didn't think he needed inpatient treatment she’d suggested.

I didn't know it at the time, but his addict was sill very much in the driver's seat, despite being found out. I don't think he had any more sex with prostitutes after that, but he's since told me he really didn't think he had a problem that day. He was still very much in denial, and it would take months of SAA meetings and therapy with his wonderful therapist and our amazing couples therapist before he could begin to understand how lost he was that day.

There was a lot I didn't know either. What I didn't know about Husband was only part of the problem. What I didn't know about myself was equally significant.

Through individual therapy, couples therapy, SAnon meetings and spiritual reading and practice, I've been able to begin the journey of my own recovery. After the first several months of dealing with the shock and the raw, agonizing pain of having my deepest core beliefs about my life, my husband and the world as I believed it to be ripped away, I have been able to explore how I got to where I was in my life and my relationship with Husband that June 1st.

I’ve learned that I’m an absolutist who sees things at their extremes, with little ability to tolerate the grey, murky, messiness of real life. I've realized that I didn't listen and/or didn't provide Husband the experience of being heard about important things in our relationship. I idealized him so completely that I wasn't able to see the depth of his unhappiness, and couldn't see that he felt he had no space to express his fears, upsets and imperfections. I've seen how neither of us had the tools to deal with conflict and did everything we could to avoid it, once again leaving no space for either of us to express upsets or deal with problems. And I've a tremendous spiritual growth. I've learned the practice of leaning into the fear and pain of life rather than turning or running away from it. I've learned how to express myself more in spite of fears and doubts. I’ve learned that I don’t have to be afraid of other people, that I can be an adult who doesn’t worry about getting in trouble or disappointing or angering others. I've learned how much I depended on Husband for my sense of self, and how much I've let other people's responses define me throughout my entire life. I've learned what boundaries are, why they are necessary, and how to define and express them. I've learned the power of reaching out for support. I've begun to accept that I can't handle everything all by myself, and that a higher power doesn't have to be a crutch, but can be a source of compassion and an opportunity for surrender. I've learned that life will continue to present me with the same lessons over and over again until I stop turning away from them. I've come to believe that there is little we can really know about life outside of our own selves, and that any thought that we can control people, situations or outcomes is an illusion. I've started to explore Buddhism, and this has been an incredible source of strength and peace for me. I would never choose to experience the pain I've felt over the last year, but at the same time the opportunities for growth and learning this pain has presented have been profoundly life changing in a positive way, and I'm grateful for that.

Despite the growth and my gratitude, things aren’t resolved. I still feel pain; I still have unwelcome thoughts and images passing through my mind. I still feel incredibly alone at times, and deeply miss the trust that I had in my relationship with Husband prior to all of this. That took years to develop, and may take years to restore, if it’s even possible. I’m still having trouble with surrendering to what is so. Husband is someone who’s hurt me more than anyone else in my life, he’s given me reason to profoundly distrust him, and yet if I want a relationship with him these are the things that I need to surrender to. For example, the knowledge that he could hurt me the way he did, and that there is no way for me to prevent that from happening again.

Just yesterday I realized in therapy how much I idealized Husband. Before all of this, when I expressed unhappiness with my job Husband’s response was something along the lines of “I’m sorry you’re unhappy, but if that’s the case why don’t you do something about it?” In other words, he didn’t provide the support I could have used. He didn’t acknowledge and have compassion for my fears and my sadness. But I couldn’t conceive that he had anything other than my best interest at heart and therefore took his words to mean that there was a problem with me that I had to fix. It never crossed my mind that a narcissistic addict full of anger and resentment was speaking to me. It never occurred to me to believe that I was okay, and that he was being a jerk who was lacking compassion for my feelings. He was wonderful, loving and brilliant, so there must be something wrong with me. I didn’t think about it exactly like that. I didn’t say those words, or even think them. But that’s how I processed it internally. I never questioned his response, only my thoughts, feelings and self-expression. I defined myself, my validity, according to his response to me. And this is something I just realized yesterday. With that realization came a deeper understanding of how much farther I have to go in healing my own self, developing my own core of strength, a strong sense of and belief in who I am no matter what anyone else says, thinks or does. The path may be long, but at least I’m on it now. A year ago today this path wasn’t even on my map.

With this great pain has come great opportunity and growth. I can’t say how things will turn out. Perhaps that’s partly because I think now that things will always be evolving. I’ve come to believe that I will never arrive, but that I’ll be walking a path into the unknown for the rest of my life, one day at a time. I do believe I can find peace with that. It may be something I have to do over and over again, but I know from experience that peace is possible.

And as I continue to face fear, to be present to non-duality, to accept the inseparable nature of joy and pain, to honor myself and all others as expressions of the divine, to have compassion for myself and others, and to practice loving kindness, I believe I will experience joy in a deeper way. I believe I will be able to love and trust Husband as he is, and to accept his love. I believe I’m developing a core of strength that I never even knew I was missing, and that I’ll experience with increasing frequency the depth of peace and serenity that comes with love and compassion for self and others.

The pain, fear and despair I’ve felt over this year have been unprecedented in my life; yet in spite of that, the resulting spiritual growth I’ve had leaves me with the experience that profound peace, joy and serenity are possible ways I never imagined before.

Why I stay

I've been asking myself this question again lately, and this morning had some clarity that allowed me to remember.

I've considered starting over. Leaving always seemed like the easiest option. But I realized early on that for me, leaving would actually be turning away from pain that I know I need to face.

I had a major betrayal when I was young. My father went on a camping trip with my uncle and my uncle returned alone with a message. My father had said he was very ill and was leaving the country to get treatment and that we should not try to find him.

I don't have many memories about this time, although I was twelve and should probably recall more. So I don't know how long it all went on. But I remember that my mother began to doubt his story. I was incensed! How could she think my father would lie about something like this? How could she have such thoughts? As a loyal and loving daughter, I dismissed her doubts with disdain.

Well, as it turned out, my father had gone to a commune in northern California to try to "find himself." He'd had a very stressful year, and basically had a nervous breakdown and left.

From my mother I have learned to be understanding, forgiving, reasonable. I've learned that many points of view are valid and to be considered. That's what she showed me how to do when my father came back.

But what I never learned, never had the chance to do, was have and express my feelings of hurt, betrayal and anger at my father. I had the absolute faith of a child in a parent, made possible by the love and security my family had provided up to that point. And he had decimated that, blown it way by lying to us in a way that I'd never imagined possible.

Secretly, inside, I swore that I'd never trust men again; never, ever need a man. I'd have power over them, be desireable, but always remain detatched. And I was good at this. I even told Husband that when we started our relationship. "I want you to know that I don't NEED you."

Over the years this fear gradually slipped away. Through my relationship with husband I learned that it was okay to trust people. But I'm also an absolutist. An all or nothing kind of gal. So trust is either absolute or absent. No room for human flaws and frailty.

So that's what I think I have the opportunity to face now. That we often hurt the ones we love. But that doesn't necessarily mean we love them any less.

There is no man out there that can make me feel good about myself, or bad about myself for that matter. Another lesson I face here is to learn to be the source of those feelings for myself.

By not turning away from the pain, by being with it, feeling it, and learning to express my reaction to it, I think I can strengthen all the parts of me that were hurt before. I can teach them that they are stronger than they realize. And I can learn love and compassion for myself beyond what my absolutism has allowed before.

This is why I stay. This is the hope that keeps me on this path.

On better days I can remember this.