It dawned on me that I've been putting off my 4th step for a long time because I've been worried about getting it right. I've been looking for the perfect format - a symptom of my perfectionism I thought. I asked Husband and Mom to go down a list of possible flaws and pick out the ones they felt characterized me, so that I could see where they overlap. Therein must lie the answer to what is wrong with me, I felt.
But I've realized that a large part of looking for the right format, and also for input, is that I've not trusted that I can do it accurately by myself. I'm worried about blind spots, about an inability to be honest with myself about my flaws, about missing something important. And this comes from my inclination not to trust myself when it comes to me. I've always looked to others to define me - to tell me how I'm doing in the world - and this is another manifestation of that.
And as I look at how others have defined me, I'm starting to see that sometimes what they think they see is just their own issues. I've done the same.
I've decided that I'm going to define what my flaws and strengths are. I may not get it 100% right, but I'm going to trust that my Higher Power will give me the clarity to see what I need to see right now. And that will be good enough.
Showing posts with label trust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trust. Show all posts
Monday, May 7, 2012
Thursday, December 22, 2011
How to re-establish trust?
It was a topic meeting this week at SAnon, and the topic was how do you re-establish trust?
SAnon is about sharing one's own experience, not about giving advice, so people spoke only about their own situations. As we went around the room, it became clear that the people in my meeting are in various stages of learning to trust themselves and speak their truths.
I think that is the answer, or at least the path toward the answer.
SAnon is about sharing one's own experience, not about giving advice, so people spoke only about their own situations. As we went around the room, it became clear that the people in my meeting are in various stages of learning to trust themselves and speak their truths.
I think that is the answer, or at least the path toward the answer.
Monday, October 10, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Digging deeper again
Watching an episode of Lost last night. Jun and Sun were in a sinking sub, and she was pinned in, despite his desperate attempts to rescue her. At one point, she grabbed his head and kissed him deeply, like he was the most beloved thing in her life.
I remember feeling that way. And the thought that crossed my mind in that moment was, “but that’s not real.”
One of the things that has helped me tremendously in processing Husband’s betrayal is taking the perspective that the only constant is impermanence, and because all things change the only thing you can count on to ensure your happiness is yourself. You can’t rely on anyone else, no matter what you think or what they say, or even what they do. Things can change. This too shall pass….whatever it is.
Even relying on yourself can be questionable, because you can also change.
But acting under the assumption that things change has helped me be at peace with human failings. People are unpredictable. A worst-case, they may lie. At best they may die. Either way, not something you can really count on to provide safety, love, or stability.
What I’m thinking though, is that I’ve begun to use this concept of unpredictability as another way to keep myself safe. Without realizing it, I think I’ve become absolutist about it.
Rule: Things change. The only thing predictable is unpredictiblity. Therefore, count only on yourself to ensure your well-being.
Outcome: I am in control of my happiness, and can protect myself 100% from experiencing deep pain and anguish.
I’m suspicious of this. I’m suspicious because I can see that I’m getting a sense of peace from being in control of the situation, armed with this understanding of unpredictability. Once again, I’m trying to prevent myself from being hurt by attempting to make sense of human nature and taking full responsibility for my own happiness and well being.
The problem with this is that it leaves me with an inability to achieve the intimacy that I used to feel with Husband. But not just with him. I can’t imagine ever feeling that connecting and intimate with any other man.
I do feel deeply connected with Son, and we share a pretty unfettered emotional intimacy. I wouldn’t really say I count on him because he’s eight and that doesn’t feel appropriate to me. But I think he feels he can count on me, and we are very close. We talk, argue, hug and kiss, wrestle, play games, hang out, lose our patience with each other, apologize, say I love you, yell, laugh…I try to let everything be there on top of a foundation of unconditional love. Who knows…maybe I’m making a mess of it all…but I’m trying to be a good mother, and I think he feels security and love and consistency and structure, which are the things I want him to be able to count on from me as a parent.
While my ability to feel deeply connected to my child is a bright spot, it doesn’t address the issue of my lack of connection and intimacy with Husband, or my inability to imagine connection and intimacy with any partner.
There are plenty of other examples of people I feel connected to.
I love my mom, but I see her flaws and know how I can count on her and how I can’t, and that ultimately in our relationship I’m responsible for my well-being. And I feel comfortable and satisfied with that.
I love my best girlfriends and I know they love me and I know they would always provide love, support, shelter and anything else I might need in this life should I have to turn to them. That feels right to me, too.
So I don’t have a problem with intimacy and connection in general. It’s only in the area of a partner that I feel all fucked up.
I know I’ve gone through cycles like this before, so I need to go back and read what I’ve written to remind myself and let some of that sink in again and more deeply.
But I also think there are things - pains, fears - that I haven’t addressed. I’m such an avoider, so desperately wanting to understand and move forward because it’s the logical and reasonable thing to do. And it’s what I’ve been trained to do from childhood – exterminate bad feelings. But pain and fear will not go undealt with, no matter how ninja I am with intellectual understanding and processing of things. There is something deeper that has not yet been faced.
I really want to feel that intimacy again. And I really think it’s possible. And I think Husband is a great person to do that with. I just don’t know how to do it on a consistent basis. Sometimes I feel like I get there, but I always seem to retreat to this safe place. It’s comfortable, it makes sense, it mostly works. But it leaves me lonely, too. And sad for what I had, which I now think of as born of delusion.
But what about the possibility that deep love, connectedness and intimacy can exist along side of betrayal and unpredictability? (I know I’ve considered this before, and I can go there intellectually, but my heart/body has not been able to get there.) It would mean opening way up to pain and anguish again. And the pain and anguish I felt 3 years ago is something I just don’t think I want to revisit.
But I think the deep feelings that I miss so much are related to that kind of openness and vulnerability. And if I have to face the fact that I can’t ensure my own happiness 100% of the time, or protect myself 100% from feeling any pain, then I suppose I might as well take that risk for the reward of the deep connection that I miss so much. Knowing what I know now, being who I am now, it would have to look different somehow. But I maybe I would have some relief from the underpinning of sadness that comes from being my own island when it comes to my relationship with Husband.
I remember feeling that way. And the thought that crossed my mind in that moment was, “but that’s not real.”
One of the things that has helped me tremendously in processing Husband’s betrayal is taking the perspective that the only constant is impermanence, and because all things change the only thing you can count on to ensure your happiness is yourself. You can’t rely on anyone else, no matter what you think or what they say, or even what they do. Things can change. This too shall pass….whatever it is.
Even relying on yourself can be questionable, because you can also change.
But acting under the assumption that things change has helped me be at peace with human failings. People are unpredictable. A worst-case, they may lie. At best they may die. Either way, not something you can really count on to provide safety, love, or stability.
What I’m thinking though, is that I’ve begun to use this concept of unpredictability as another way to keep myself safe. Without realizing it, I think I’ve become absolutist about it.
Rule: Things change. The only thing predictable is unpredictiblity. Therefore, count only on yourself to ensure your well-being.
Outcome: I am in control of my happiness, and can protect myself 100% from experiencing deep pain and anguish.
I’m suspicious of this. I’m suspicious because I can see that I’m getting a sense of peace from being in control of the situation, armed with this understanding of unpredictability. Once again, I’m trying to prevent myself from being hurt by attempting to make sense of human nature and taking full responsibility for my own happiness and well being.
The problem with this is that it leaves me with an inability to achieve the intimacy that I used to feel with Husband. But not just with him. I can’t imagine ever feeling that connecting and intimate with any other man.
I do feel deeply connected with Son, and we share a pretty unfettered emotional intimacy. I wouldn’t really say I count on him because he’s eight and that doesn’t feel appropriate to me. But I think he feels he can count on me, and we are very close. We talk, argue, hug and kiss, wrestle, play games, hang out, lose our patience with each other, apologize, say I love you, yell, laugh…I try to let everything be there on top of a foundation of unconditional love. Who knows…maybe I’m making a mess of it all…but I’m trying to be a good mother, and I think he feels security and love and consistency and structure, which are the things I want him to be able to count on from me as a parent.
While my ability to feel deeply connected to my child is a bright spot, it doesn’t address the issue of my lack of connection and intimacy with Husband, or my inability to imagine connection and intimacy with any partner.
There are plenty of other examples of people I feel connected to.
I love my mom, but I see her flaws and know how I can count on her and how I can’t, and that ultimately in our relationship I’m responsible for my well-being. And I feel comfortable and satisfied with that.
I love my best girlfriends and I know they love me and I know they would always provide love, support, shelter and anything else I might need in this life should I have to turn to them. That feels right to me, too.
So I don’t have a problem with intimacy and connection in general. It’s only in the area of a partner that I feel all fucked up.
I know I’ve gone through cycles like this before, so I need to go back and read what I’ve written to remind myself and let some of that sink in again and more deeply.
But I also think there are things - pains, fears - that I haven’t addressed. I’m such an avoider, so desperately wanting to understand and move forward because it’s the logical and reasonable thing to do. And it’s what I’ve been trained to do from childhood – exterminate bad feelings. But pain and fear will not go undealt with, no matter how ninja I am with intellectual understanding and processing of things. There is something deeper that has not yet been faced.
I really want to feel that intimacy again. And I really think it’s possible. And I think Husband is a great person to do that with. I just don’t know how to do it on a consistent basis. Sometimes I feel like I get there, but I always seem to retreat to this safe place. It’s comfortable, it makes sense, it mostly works. But it leaves me lonely, too. And sad for what I had, which I now think of as born of delusion.
But what about the possibility that deep love, connectedness and intimacy can exist along side of betrayal and unpredictability? (I know I’ve considered this before, and I can go there intellectually, but my heart/body has not been able to get there.) It would mean opening way up to pain and anguish again. And the pain and anguish I felt 3 years ago is something I just don’t think I want to revisit.
But I think the deep feelings that I miss so much are related to that kind of openness and vulnerability. And if I have to face the fact that I can’t ensure my own happiness 100% of the time, or protect myself 100% from feeling any pain, then I suppose I might as well take that risk for the reward of the deep connection that I miss so much. Knowing what I know now, being who I am now, it would have to look different somehow. But I maybe I would have some relief from the underpinning of sadness that comes from being my own island when it comes to my relationship with Husband.
Friday, October 30, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Triggered
After all this time, after all the recovery, all the therapy, all the growth...there are still triggers.
It started last weekend when I stayed in a Sheraton Hotel. Hotels like that call to mind images of what I think went on with Husband and prostitutes in similar rooms. With the images come questions I thought I'd put behind me: What was he thinking? How could he do that? How could he lie to me? What was it like, being with all those other women? Did I mean so little to him that his promises to me were that easy to break, that my trust and vulnerability were so meaningless to him, that he had so little respect for me that he could - over and over again - do things that he knew were wrong, things that he knew were not okay with me in the context of our relationship?
With those questions comes anger. I'm angry at him for lying. I'm angry at him for destroying the trust I'd built up over two decades. I'm angry at him for the loss I've had - the loss of the deepest bond I had in my adult life. I wish I could subject him to the feelings that accompany such a profound betrayal, and the feelings that go along with trying to rebuild trust with somebody who has hurt and betrayed you so deeply. I hate that I have this in my life. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to completely forgive him, if I'll ever love or trust him the way I did before. I'd probably be foolish to ever trust anybody the way I trusted him. And I hate that I feel that way. I hate that this might be the reality of the world - that you can't really trust anybody. I'm afraid, too. Afraid that he'll detect how distant I can feel, and that it will scare him and that he'll leave me - maybe just when I've really started to believe he's who he says he is. I'm afraid of spending the rest of my life in a relationship where I don't really love fully, where I'm holding my trust back. But I feel like no matter what relationship I'm in, I'll never fully trust again. Like sleeping with one eye open.
Full of fear, full of anger. Some other part of me knows better. But these things are still inside me and I want them OUT and not pushed down. I don't want to wake up angry in 20 years, and I don't want to have unexpressed anger inside me for the rest of my life.
In a way it feels too late for me to express these feelings. But that's too bad, because I refuse to keep it in and suffer the consequences of that. So what if my timing's bad? It's my timing. It's all I've got.
I want so much to believe in the person he seems to be, to believe he loves me as much as he says he does. But after being deceived the way Husband deceived me...I don't know how I can ever completely believe in his love for me again.
Today I had a business meeting in our old neighborhood, and once again ended up parking in front of the "oriental massage" place where Husband got his first hand job that opened the door to paying for sex. An unpleasant ending to a difficult week.
I don't doubt that these feelings are a part of the process. I realized in my 12-step meeting that I'm trying to "figure out" my way past this, and that part of my journey is to accept that not everything can be figured out. I can pray to my higher power for help with these things my logical mind can't resolve.
But for the moment I'm sad and afraid. Sad about what I've lost, and afraid that I won't feel so deeply connected with a partner ever again. If that's the case, I know I can manage. I've got a beautiful son, and fantastic friends. But it's not what I want for my life. I don't want my heart to be walled off, to feel distant, mistrustful, unable to love deeply. But I don't want to be a fool either.
Or maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe just as there is no good or bad, there is no foolish or wise. Maybe it's just all about my experience in the moment and how I respond to it.
Right now I'm all questions and no answers.
It started last weekend when I stayed in a Sheraton Hotel. Hotels like that call to mind images of what I think went on with Husband and prostitutes in similar rooms. With the images come questions I thought I'd put behind me: What was he thinking? How could he do that? How could he lie to me? What was it like, being with all those other women? Did I mean so little to him that his promises to me were that easy to break, that my trust and vulnerability were so meaningless to him, that he had so little respect for me that he could - over and over again - do things that he knew were wrong, things that he knew were not okay with me in the context of our relationship?
With those questions comes anger. I'm angry at him for lying. I'm angry at him for destroying the trust I'd built up over two decades. I'm angry at him for the loss I've had - the loss of the deepest bond I had in my adult life. I wish I could subject him to the feelings that accompany such a profound betrayal, and the feelings that go along with trying to rebuild trust with somebody who has hurt and betrayed you so deeply. I hate that I have this in my life. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to completely forgive him, if I'll ever love or trust him the way I did before. I'd probably be foolish to ever trust anybody the way I trusted him. And I hate that I feel that way. I hate that this might be the reality of the world - that you can't really trust anybody. I'm afraid, too. Afraid that he'll detect how distant I can feel, and that it will scare him and that he'll leave me - maybe just when I've really started to believe he's who he says he is. I'm afraid of spending the rest of my life in a relationship where I don't really love fully, where I'm holding my trust back. But I feel like no matter what relationship I'm in, I'll never fully trust again. Like sleeping with one eye open.
Full of fear, full of anger. Some other part of me knows better. But these things are still inside me and I want them OUT and not pushed down. I don't want to wake up angry in 20 years, and I don't want to have unexpressed anger inside me for the rest of my life.
In a way it feels too late for me to express these feelings. But that's too bad, because I refuse to keep it in and suffer the consequences of that. So what if my timing's bad? It's my timing. It's all I've got.
I want so much to believe in the person he seems to be, to believe he loves me as much as he says he does. But after being deceived the way Husband deceived me...I don't know how I can ever completely believe in his love for me again.
Today I had a business meeting in our old neighborhood, and once again ended up parking in front of the "oriental massage" place where Husband got his first hand job that opened the door to paying for sex. An unpleasant ending to a difficult week.
I don't doubt that these feelings are a part of the process. I realized in my 12-step meeting that I'm trying to "figure out" my way past this, and that part of my journey is to accept that not everything can be figured out. I can pray to my higher power for help with these things my logical mind can't resolve.
But for the moment I'm sad and afraid. Sad about what I've lost, and afraid that I won't feel so deeply connected with a partner ever again. If that's the case, I know I can manage. I've got a beautiful son, and fantastic friends. But it's not what I want for my life. I don't want my heart to be walled off, to feel distant, mistrustful, unable to love deeply. But I don't want to be a fool either.
Or maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe just as there is no good or bad, there is no foolish or wise. Maybe it's just all about my experience in the moment and how I respond to it.
Right now I'm all questions and no answers.
Friday, October 3, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Trust is scary...even if you're merely considering it
For the second night in a row last night, I felt like Husband wasn't interested in sex with me.
Now I have plenty of nights where I'm not interested in sex. I'm tired. I'm stressed out about work. Things that have nothing to do with Husband.
But as I said to him last night, it's been so many years since I've been the only sex partner in his life. It's easy to start thinking that maybe I'm not enough. And that's especially painful because our relationship was one of the few places in my life where I really did feel like I was enough.
We talked about it. About my anger, how it's still hard for me to accept sometimes that he could lie to me. I feel like I could never lie to him, even now. We talked about my sadness about him lying.
I talked about how sometimes I still feel like I just want to level the playing field. Sometimes I feel like going out and doing to him what he did to me. Cheating, lying. But for one thing I couldn't face my son after that, because it would feel like a betrayal of his trust as well. And I've never been interested in casual sex, so I doubt it would satisfy anything for me. I know in my gut that it would be nothing more than an attempt to protect myself, and would do nothing but harden me and put distance between us. I would never be the same person, and that would be my loss. And I've already lost enough because of this.
But I feel so powerless. And that's the root of the fear. So I tried to think about the tools I have to face this. The first one that came to mind was prayer. Allowing myself to turn to a higher power for strength. Praying for the strength to surrender to my inability to control, to protect myself, if I really want deep intimacy.
I feel like if I take the chance of trusting him, I run the risk of being lied to again. What if he loses interest in a single partner? What if his apathy becomes a justification for thinking about others, fantasizing about others, turing to the internet for stimulation, and then who knows what else?
I hate this feeling of powerlessness. But I think surrendering to powerlessness comes hand in hand with trust. That is what is so when you really trust someone. You open yourself up to being hurt by them. I'm not powerless to put an end to a relationship. But as I've learned, I'm powerless to prevent someone I love, and someone who says he loves me, from hurting me.
So I'm glad to be on this uneasy path. Glad to be feeling that trust is a possibility. Considering trust now brings up fears. And as I think about it, that's not surprising. And on the other side of this part of my journey, hopefully I'll have grown.
Now I have plenty of nights where I'm not interested in sex. I'm tired. I'm stressed out about work. Things that have nothing to do with Husband.
But as I said to him last night, it's been so many years since I've been the only sex partner in his life. It's easy to start thinking that maybe I'm not enough. And that's especially painful because our relationship was one of the few places in my life where I really did feel like I was enough.
We talked about it. About my anger, how it's still hard for me to accept sometimes that he could lie to me. I feel like I could never lie to him, even now. We talked about my sadness about him lying.
I talked about how sometimes I still feel like I just want to level the playing field. Sometimes I feel like going out and doing to him what he did to me. Cheating, lying. But for one thing I couldn't face my son after that, because it would feel like a betrayal of his trust as well. And I've never been interested in casual sex, so I doubt it would satisfy anything for me. I know in my gut that it would be nothing more than an attempt to protect myself, and would do nothing but harden me and put distance between us. I would never be the same person, and that would be my loss. And I've already lost enough because of this.
But I feel so powerless. And that's the root of the fear. So I tried to think about the tools I have to face this. The first one that came to mind was prayer. Allowing myself to turn to a higher power for strength. Praying for the strength to surrender to my inability to control, to protect myself, if I really want deep intimacy.
I feel like if I take the chance of trusting him, I run the risk of being lied to again. What if he loses interest in a single partner? What if his apathy becomes a justification for thinking about others, fantasizing about others, turing to the internet for stimulation, and then who knows what else?
I hate this feeling of powerlessness. But I think surrendering to powerlessness comes hand in hand with trust. That is what is so when you really trust someone. You open yourself up to being hurt by them. I'm not powerless to put an end to a relationship. But as I've learned, I'm powerless to prevent someone I love, and someone who says he loves me, from hurting me.
So I'm glad to be on this uneasy path. Glad to be feeling that trust is a possibility. Considering trust now brings up fears. And as I think about it, that's not surprising. And on the other side of this part of my journey, hopefully I'll have grown.
Friday, April 4, 2008
I have pinpointed the trust issue
Tonight I realized that what is between me and Husband is that I don't trust the moment. Or that I'm afraid to trust the moment. I'm afraid to trust what I think is happening in the moment between Husband and me, because I trusted so completely before and he betrayed me for so long and about something so basic.
And the thing that concerns me is that I don't see how I can ever get that back. I want to trust him. I want more than anything to feel the connection I felt before. But I can't imagine it now.
So I will keep praying and meditating (and going to therapy and trying to connect with and express my feelings of anger) and see where that gets me.
And the thing that concerns me is that I don't see how I can ever get that back. I want to trust him. I want more than anything to feel the connection I felt before. But I can't imagine it now.
So I will keep praying and meditating (and going to therapy and trying to connect with and express my feelings of anger) and see where that gets me.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
If not trust, then what?
I am really struggling today. Struggling with the value and meaning of trust. Struggling to put aside the desire for a different past. Struggling with feeling like Husband can never love me enough to make me feel safe from being lied to and betrayed again.
Life is so short, I want to live in this moment with the man in front of me who loves me and is committed to recovery and to sharing his feelings and creating a happy family with me. But I thought I had that kind of committment before - he already promised not to betray me, not to lie, to respect me, to listen to and communicate with me, to be honest and trustworthy, to look for the greatness within me. Those were all part of the wedding vows we wrote together 11 years ago(about the time he was starting to secretly visit strippers for lap dances)after 9 years of being together. So if he makes promises now, of what value are they? And if asking for these things is futile because we can never know who someone really is or what someone will actually do, if all we can really know is that nothing is permanent, then what can I ask for? Do I be in a relationship and ask for nothing? That doesn't seem like a relationship to me. But I don't want to delude myself by asking for things that someone can't truly give, even if they intend to.
Life is so short, I want to live in this moment with the man in front of me who loves me and is committed to recovery and to sharing his feelings and creating a happy family with me. But I thought I had that kind of committment before - he already promised not to betray me, not to lie, to respect me, to listen to and communicate with me, to be honest and trustworthy, to look for the greatness within me. Those were all part of the wedding vows we wrote together 11 years ago(about the time he was starting to secretly visit strippers for lap dances)after 9 years of being together. So if he makes promises now, of what value are they? And if asking for these things is futile because we can never know who someone really is or what someone will actually do, if all we can really know is that nothing is permanent, then what can I ask for? Do I be in a relationship and ask for nothing? That doesn't seem like a relationship to me. But I don't want to delude myself by asking for things that someone can't truly give, even if they intend to.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Feeling peace
In couples therapy this weekend we talked a lot about my feelings of doubt. About my wish that there was some way to be sure I could count on somebody not to betray me. About my concern that I was returning to my old feelings about the untrustworthiness of men that I was left with after I found out that Dad was lying to us.
I was trying to get to the learning that is there for me. The lesson seems to be that no matter what, ultimately you can't trust anyone. But I don't see the growth in that lesson. And I do have girlfriends I can trust - who I feel like I "know" in the same deep way I was sure I knew Husband.
In our session I realized that I so reflexively take on responsibility for the way Husband feels that I don't have an instant to see what actually happened. And I'm such an absolutist that I judge myself a bad person when somebody important to me is upset because in my word view good people don't do things that make those they love angry or hurt. If somebody around me is mad in reaction to something I've done, I look at myself to see what went wrong, instead of letting them be responsible for their feelings and simply looking to see where I can take responsibility for my actions.
We learned the tool of checking with each other about our "paranoid fantasies," the often catastrophic things we make up that may be true, or may be completely off base.
We talked about whether or not I could accept people as flawed, as doing the best they could. And the fact that in Husband's addict mind what he was doing, although it impacted me, wasn't directed at me and wasn't really connected with me. Those are things I can get my mind around most of the time. But the self doubt is still there. The struggle with trusting myself, which didn't work out so well before.
I think the fact that I was able to share and have validated so much of what I have been feeling has given me a sense of peace this week. Husband heard me. He expressed the fear he feels when he hears me talk about considering what it would be like to leave, or to be with someone else. But, as I tell him, I don't really want those things...I just turn them over in my mind like stones to see if they feel like more appropriate paths...but they don't.
Maybe the growth is in compassion, forgiveness, letting go of the way I think things should be, wish they were. Letting go of that desire for a different past. In coming to terms with the unknowability of our existence. In accepting that Husband is human, and acknowledging that he was truly doing the best he could at the time with the tools and coping skills he had. And in being with him in the present where he is also doing the best he can, now in the clarity afforded him by his recovery work. I will lean toward these lessons, and away from fear and mistrust.
But even tonight as I was wrapping my arms around Husband, breathing in his scent as he played the piano, that cold sliver of fear passed through my heart for an instant. I wondered how many other times I'd breathed him in that deeply, filled myself with his presence, allowed myself to be intoxicated by my love for him, while he was lying and leading that secret life.
This will be the dance for a while, I guess. The dance between fear and forgiveness, between love and mistrust, between joy and anger. Until I can get free of the mindset of duality, and accept everything as existing at once and be at peace with that.
I was trying to get to the learning that is there for me. The lesson seems to be that no matter what, ultimately you can't trust anyone. But I don't see the growth in that lesson. And I do have girlfriends I can trust - who I feel like I "know" in the same deep way I was sure I knew Husband.
In our session I realized that I so reflexively take on responsibility for the way Husband feels that I don't have an instant to see what actually happened. And I'm such an absolutist that I judge myself a bad person when somebody important to me is upset because in my word view good people don't do things that make those they love angry or hurt. If somebody around me is mad in reaction to something I've done, I look at myself to see what went wrong, instead of letting them be responsible for their feelings and simply looking to see where I can take responsibility for my actions.
We learned the tool of checking with each other about our "paranoid fantasies," the often catastrophic things we make up that may be true, or may be completely off base.
We talked about whether or not I could accept people as flawed, as doing the best they could. And the fact that in Husband's addict mind what he was doing, although it impacted me, wasn't directed at me and wasn't really connected with me. Those are things I can get my mind around most of the time. But the self doubt is still there. The struggle with trusting myself, which didn't work out so well before.
I think the fact that I was able to share and have validated so much of what I have been feeling has given me a sense of peace this week. Husband heard me. He expressed the fear he feels when he hears me talk about considering what it would be like to leave, or to be with someone else. But, as I tell him, I don't really want those things...I just turn them over in my mind like stones to see if they feel like more appropriate paths...but they don't.
Maybe the growth is in compassion, forgiveness, letting go of the way I think things should be, wish they were. Letting go of that desire for a different past. In coming to terms with the unknowability of our existence. In accepting that Husband is human, and acknowledging that he was truly doing the best he could at the time with the tools and coping skills he had. And in being with him in the present where he is also doing the best he can, now in the clarity afforded him by his recovery work. I will lean toward these lessons, and away from fear and mistrust.
But even tonight as I was wrapping my arms around Husband, breathing in his scent as he played the piano, that cold sliver of fear passed through my heart for an instant. I wondered how many other times I'd breathed him in that deeply, filled myself with his presence, allowed myself to be intoxicated by my love for him, while he was lying and leading that secret life.
This will be the dance for a while, I guess. The dance between fear and forgiveness, between love and mistrust, between joy and anger. Until I can get free of the mindset of duality, and accept everything as existing at once and be at peace with that.
Friday, December 14, 2007
The Shield
I haven't been able to escape the feeling that I've withdrawn in some small yet fundamental way from Husband, and this morning I realized why.
Things have been as good as I guess they can get given the events of the past 6 months. Husband is actively in recovery, growing, knowing himself better, discovering the power of spirituality, reaching out, taking risks, getting happier and more self aware, feeling more deeply connected to me. He expresses love in many ways - words, touch, flowers, cooking, caring, listening, encouraging, supporting, etc. Great, right?
I used to feel like we were combined on an energy level. Like our auras (or something) mingled and danced together whenever we were near each other, whenever I heard his voice, whenever I thought of him. Not that we were one, so much as that we were profoundly co-mingled. And when he said "I love you," when I saw him, when we touched, I'd feel loving energy spread warmly through my body.
That isn't so anymore. I feel totally and completely separate. Disconnected.
And I've been wondering what's wrong with me that everything seems to be going so merrily in the right direction and yet I have a persistent feeling of distance from him. It's not a canyon, but but a quantum gap - almost imperceptible yet profound. It's not that I don't love him. It's not that I want something or someone else. It's not that I think he's lying to me now. It's my body. My body doesn't believe him. My intellect understands that he is a different person now, but my molecules aren't taking any chances. Darwinian survival instincts at work. Beautiful and sad at the same time.
What I realized this morning is that when he lied to me, that betrayal not only destroyed something that was there (trust); it also created something that wasn't there before (a strong shield that's protecting my cells from the perceived threat of annihilation.) Right now it's easier for me to imagine having that co-mingled, energy-tendrils-caressing-and-exploring-each-other feeling with someone I just met than with Husband because a new person would not have to contend with The Shield.
So it's around this Shield that my work needs to be done if I want to have the deep connection as I had before with Husband. It's around this Shield where the ground is most fertile for my own growth. So now what? Is this where I ask my higher power for some help?
Meditate and pray...if I don't unearth answers, at least I'll be treading the path of peace.
Things have been as good as I guess they can get given the events of the past 6 months. Husband is actively in recovery, growing, knowing himself better, discovering the power of spirituality, reaching out, taking risks, getting happier and more self aware, feeling more deeply connected to me. He expresses love in many ways - words, touch, flowers, cooking, caring, listening, encouraging, supporting, etc. Great, right?
I used to feel like we were combined on an energy level. Like our auras (or something) mingled and danced together whenever we were near each other, whenever I heard his voice, whenever I thought of him. Not that we were one, so much as that we were profoundly co-mingled. And when he said "I love you," when I saw him, when we touched, I'd feel loving energy spread warmly through my body.
That isn't so anymore. I feel totally and completely separate. Disconnected.
And I've been wondering what's wrong with me that everything seems to be going so merrily in the right direction and yet I have a persistent feeling of distance from him. It's not a canyon, but but a quantum gap - almost imperceptible yet profound. It's not that I don't love him. It's not that I want something or someone else. It's not that I think he's lying to me now. It's my body. My body doesn't believe him. My intellect understands that he is a different person now, but my molecules aren't taking any chances. Darwinian survival instincts at work. Beautiful and sad at the same time.
What I realized this morning is that when he lied to me, that betrayal not only destroyed something that was there (trust); it also created something that wasn't there before (a strong shield that's protecting my cells from the perceived threat of annihilation.) Right now it's easier for me to imagine having that co-mingled, energy-tendrils-caressing-and-exploring-each-other feeling with someone I just met than with Husband because a new person would not have to contend with The Shield.
So it's around this Shield that my work needs to be done if I want to have the deep connection as I had before with Husband. It's around this Shield where the ground is most fertile for my own growth. So now what? Is this where I ask my higher power for some help?
Meditate and pray...if I don't unearth answers, at least I'll be treading the path of peace.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Checking my thinking
Practiced checking my thinking today. One friend questioned my reaction to Husband quitting his job. I began to worry that I was being too nice about it when I should be angry instead. But I really didn't think I felt angry. I didn't want Husband to suffer just because I had suffered.
So I called another friend to get her input. She said she didn't think I was making myself a door mat - that I wasn't sacrificing my own happiness for Husband's. She saw us as two people trying to make our lives together better. That's how it felt to me, and it was good to find out that at least one person I trust didn't think I was out of my mind. (I trust my other friend, too, which is why I began to worry so much.)
It's not a clear and easy path, especially when I now have reason to question what I think I know after living ignorantly inside lies for several years.
Just as I have to learn to trust Husband again, I need to learn to trust myself. I think that will come out of support from my community of friends and support groups and therapists. I guess it also takes a village to help life make sense sometimes.
So I called another friend to get her input. She said she didn't think I was making myself a door mat - that I wasn't sacrificing my own happiness for Husband's. She saw us as two people trying to make our lives together better. That's how it felt to me, and it was good to find out that at least one person I trust didn't think I was out of my mind. (I trust my other friend, too, which is why I began to worry so much.)
It's not a clear and easy path, especially when I now have reason to question what I think I know after living ignorantly inside lies for several years.
Just as I have to learn to trust Husband again, I need to learn to trust myself. I think that will come out of support from my community of friends and support groups and therapists. I guess it also takes a village to help life make sense sometimes.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Husband is traveling for business
Just found out that Husband will be traveling for business for a couple of days. Leaving on the red-eye tonight.
Following are the questions I had to ask:
So...yet another indication of where I am at this point in the journey.
What do these questions indicate? Hell if I know. But I know I'll look back in a year and knowingly say, "Ahhhh, yes..." and see clearly through what is now sometimes a dense forest to me.
Following are the questions I had to ask:
- What about your meetings - can you do by phone?
Are you going to rent movies? What is your plan with respect to food, alcohol, sex?
Just so I'm clear, what is "acting out?" Movies, magazines, clubs? Where do those fall? More specifically, what is okay (by your definition) for you to do?
About alcohol - is nine drinks okay? I know it is in terms of abstinence, but what is your plan - what do you commit to now so that when you're sitting at the bar you'll have a point of reference?
And does this feel like I'm trying to control you? I'm just wondering...
So...yet another indication of where I am at this point in the journey.
What do these questions indicate? Hell if I know. But I know I'll look back in a year and knowingly say, "Ahhhh, yes..." and see clearly through what is now sometimes a dense forest to me.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Four months out - time to take inventory
Here is a snapshot of what life is like four months after finding out about Husband's secret life:
Generally, ups and downs are a part of life but things continue slow, steady improvement. (People told me this would happen, and I found it really hard to believe in the early months.)
Things that I note that have changed about me and my behavior:
I believe that many of the things I do regarding my appearance are for myself and not to control Husband. In the event that Husband decides he can't abstain, I want to be able to feel as good about myself as possible, attractive and desirable. I can't tell if that's crazy or healthy.
I am lucky and grateful that Husband has been able to remain abstinent. He is very present to the cost. I'm concerned about the long term, not as much with sex but with food and alcohol.
Haven't really discussed alcohol addiction beyond my brief mention of it at the receipt incident.
Feel angry - it flares up like those fires shooting off the sun, but most of the time I'm not present to feeling angry
Not feeling crushing sadness anymore
Can still unexpectedly spiral into anxiety
Not trusting myself. I commented on the issue of trust recently, and I realized yesterday that I fall into that category of people who can't count on themselves. I trust myself not to abuse, betray or hurt myself. But I don't yet trust my ability to distinguish what is real and what is not, or to be able to spot another liar if I start another intimate relationship.
Oddly enough, I'm feeling more co-dependent feelings than I ever have. Before I had issues of needing to control via fixing that I was not aware of. I still have those, though awareness is making all the difference. However I need so much more reassurance, and have so much more anxiety about whether or not I'm good enough in my relationship than I ever did before. I used to feel solid and secure in my relationship, and that feeling has not yet returned.
Yesterday I was thinking that I don't want my husband to get satisfaction out of any personal growth I'm having as a result of this - then realized that is a form of wanting to control something I can't control.
I think I'm struggling a lot because I'm coming to terms with a fear of the unknowability that is part of the human condition. This feels so deep and scary to me.
I'm struggling with the higher power concept - someone in my group said when there's nothing else you can trust, you can trust that...but I don't want to trust that things that happen to me are part of some other entity's "plan" for me. That feels to me like another way of not facing reality, not facing the fact that sometimes bad shit happens and it's bad and there's nothing that will change that.
I've thought further about why I find the definition of codependence useful, and I've realized that understanding patterns of codependence provides some structure when I am unsure of reality. If I can't be sure of what's real, at least I can spot a pattern and then decide whether or not I want to stick with that pattern and the associated outcomes.
Generally, ups and downs are a part of life but things continue slow, steady improvement. (People told me this would happen, and I found it really hard to believe in the early months.)
Things that I note that have changed about me and my behavior:
- Husband and I usually have sex at least once a day, which was not the case before
I've lost weight and I exercise regularly
I wear sexy underwear
I shave my legs almost nightly
I wear makeup more often
I'm beginning to accept Husband's humanity - that he's flawed by definition
Working on accepting my own humanity
Still get jolted when I think of him with prostitutes - some part of me still asks why
Can accept that prostitutes, fast food binges and shopping were interchangeable on the menu of things he used to numb and distract himself
Feel trust beginning to grow, although I'm more attuned to my instincts around it and I still have a lot of doubt
Learning not to fix, but to listen instead
I believe that many of the things I do regarding my appearance are for myself and not to control Husband. In the event that Husband decides he can't abstain, I want to be able to feel as good about myself as possible, attractive and desirable. I can't tell if that's crazy or healthy.
I am lucky and grateful that Husband has been able to remain abstinent. He is very present to the cost. I'm concerned about the long term, not as much with sex but with food and alcohol.
Haven't really discussed alcohol addiction beyond my brief mention of it at the receipt incident.
Feel angry - it flares up like those fires shooting off the sun, but most of the time I'm not present to feeling angry
Not feeling crushing sadness anymore
Can still unexpectedly spiral into anxiety
Not trusting myself. I commented on the issue of trust recently, and I realized yesterday that I fall into that category of people who can't count on themselves. I trust myself not to abuse, betray or hurt myself. But I don't yet trust my ability to distinguish what is real and what is not, or to be able to spot another liar if I start another intimate relationship.
Oddly enough, I'm feeling more co-dependent feelings than I ever have. Before I had issues of needing to control via fixing that I was not aware of. I still have those, though awareness is making all the difference. However I need so much more reassurance, and have so much more anxiety about whether or not I'm good enough in my relationship than I ever did before. I used to feel solid and secure in my relationship, and that feeling has not yet returned.
Yesterday I was thinking that I don't want my husband to get satisfaction out of any personal growth I'm having as a result of this - then realized that is a form of wanting to control something I can't control.
I think I'm struggling a lot because I'm coming to terms with a fear of the unknowability that is part of the human condition. This feels so deep and scary to me.
I'm struggling with the higher power concept - someone in my group said when there's nothing else you can trust, you can trust that...but I don't want to trust that things that happen to me are part of some other entity's "plan" for me. That feels to me like another way of not facing reality, not facing the fact that sometimes bad shit happens and it's bad and there's nothing that will change that.
I've thought further about why I find the definition of codependence useful, and I've realized that understanding patterns of codependence provides some structure when I am unsure of reality. If I can't be sure of what's real, at least I can spot a pattern and then decide whether or not I want to stick with that pattern and the associated outcomes.
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