Addo Recovery: Combat Negative Self-Talk

My first assignment with Addo Recovery (which I am loving by the way) was on how to understand and combat negative self-talk. Easy peasy. Why? Because I'm not a negative person. I don't think negatively about myself. I'm perfect. 

Oh how I lie to myself sometimes. (I watched a great video on the Lifestar blog about "Honest Liars"--I highly suggest it. I'd add the link but I'm posting through my phone. Sry.) 

Lying to myself. Why do I do that? Why do I think I'm perfect? Because I most definitely am not perfect. And I most definitely do have negative thoughts and beliefs about myself at times. But to admit that to myself means...I'm not perfect in something! Bah! It gives me serious anxiety. 

My whole identity is wrapped up in being perfect, keeping it together, excelling, being looked up to. So betrayal trauma has rocked my world. Me? Therapy? Oh, it goes against all my perfectionist beliefs. I've had to come to some serious grips that I am no longer "perfect." No longer the perfect husband and wife. No longer the perfect family. It's terrible. But it's been GREAT for me. I needed to get over myself! I needed to see outside of myself. 

Now that I've done that and seen this new world of sexual addiction and betrayal trauma, it's time to look inwardly and recover. 

I was asked to complete some sentences  about what my inward beliefs are. I went into auto mode and started to write down positive things. The spiritual, church answer things. Because in my mind, a perfect person sees things optimistically. And I want to be perfect.

But then I stopped. No. I had to really dig deep, clear out the noise in my head and focus on what I REALLY was thinking in response to these sentences. It was hard. 

But I challenged myself to be brutally honest. (I can't expect Simon to do it if I don't.) And I started to write some honest answers. And yikes. YIKES. Holy negative self-talk, Batman. 

I discovered that I believe I am average. I feel tainted. I feel like I'm wrong about things a lot. I resent people if they don't make me feel validated and important. I feel like other people are selfish and think they are better than I am. 

Ugh! It's terrible! I hate those feelings and beliefs are even inside of me. I want them OUT! 

Because honestly I should not have those beliefs. I KNOW that I am a child of God. I know I have worth. I am anything but average. This experience has not tainted me. I am worthy of love and capable of compassion. I know people can be good. I know what I have to say is valuable. 

So why are those negative beliefs there?! I have no idea. And thankfully, they are not dominate in my mind. But they are there. Enter therapy. 

The first way I can change those beliefs and combat negative self-talk is to not accept them as truth. Then I challenge them, change them and shift my thinking. 

My most negative belief is, "I am average." Which really boils down further to the belief of "If I were better, more special, just MORE in every way, my husband wouldn't have done this. He wouldn't have sought out other women/things to compensate for what I am lacking." It's heartbreaking. I get all panicky and anxious just writing the words. It's a nagging little thought that's always in the back of my mind. (Satan wants me miserable. He's such a jerk.)

But I'm desperately trying to change that belief. Not push it down and repress it but get it out and flip it on it's head. I challenge it by telling myself: "I am special. I am enough. Yes, I can be better. I can improve my character. But I am special and of infinite worth. My husbands actions--past, present, future--do not define me. They do not lessen ME. I am a good person who has so much to offer and is capable of accomplishing so much." 

I feel that belief grow stronger and stronger every day. I am enough! I am SO enough. 

I refuse to let Satan, the father of all lies and the author of misery, diminish my worth. 

Sucker punch him in the face. Kill him with positive self-talk. 

Video Games

Video games have been a constant in my marriage. My husband has always played them from basically day one. And over the years I cycled through different feelings about them. Sometimes I would hate them and tell Simon so because it consumed his free time and lead to my neglect. Other times I was ok with it and tried to be understanding that it was just his hobby. I enjoyed reading. He enjoyed video games. 

I can confidently say today that I HATE them. I hate them because they trigger me now. They remind me of my old life--life before my world shattered. A life of lies. They represent all the neglect and disconnect I felt from Simon. They remind me of how I would go to bed most nights by myself while Simon stayed up until the early morning playing violent games and talking with friends. 

Video games say one thing to me: I am more important than you are. 

After DDay, I asked Simon not to play them. He said OK. But then he played them anyways while we were separated. 

At our marriage counseling session I brought video games up. I expressed how I thought it was a simple request and would be a sign to me that Simon was willing to sacrifice something for me and give me full attention. Simon was irritable and annoyed and gave a terse answer of "fine." The therapist encouraged him to do so without resenentment. Because otherwise it would mean nothing. Simon was dripping resentment.  

Has he stopped playing video games? No. And I'm tired of asking him to. 

There were some fishy behaviors going on tonight so I basically went to bed early. Simon was denying everything and I just didn't have the energy to keep pressing him. And so I went to sleep and then I dreamed. And in my dream, I asked Simon about those fishy behaviors. He turned violent. He cussed at me. He tried to hit me. I woke up. 

I went to find Simon and...he was playing video games. I internally freaked. I was already feeling so traumatized and scared and seeing him playing video games just sent me into full panic mode. 

I calmly asked him if he could stop playing. He said without looking at me, "In ten minutes I will." I am more important than you are. 

I asked him again. He turned them off reluctantly. I told him my dream in our dark family room. I told him how I was scared to see his enthusiasm for getting into recovery waning. I told him that I'd already noticed it in several behaviors the last day or so. 

He basically responded with: I completely disagree and I need more support from you and you're condemning me for dreams you're having and I'm not a violent person why would you think I'd even do that. 

I cried and told him how I felt unsafe. His fishy behaviors make me feel unsafe. His waning enthusiasm makes me feel unsafe. His playing video games makes me feel unsafe. And because I feel unsafe, I dream that I am physically NOT SAFE and that HE WILL HURT ME. 

Simon simply didn't get it. Here I was asking for him to keep me safe. I was telling him what I needed. Pleading for it. And he flat out didn't want to comply. He kept saying he didn't see why video games were such a big deal to me and that he needed something to stay normal in his life. 

He's not willing to sacrifice for me and my safety. That's the message I got. And that hurts. 

Pornography says I am more important than you are. 

Masturbation says I am more important than you are. 

All the women he's been with say We are more important than you are. 

Video games say I am more important than you are. 

Simon says I am more important than you are. 

It hurts. 

The Other Woman

This may seem weird...but "the other woman" (the woman who my husband was dating for the past six months) is actually a great person. 

She's been so helpful and cooperative and so apologetic. Yes, there are times I resent her A LOT and I don't REALLY know her. But, none of this is her fault. She was just a girl who thought she was dating a handsome and kind single guy. (Gag!) 

That night she called me and shattered my world, she just sobbed and sobbed over the phone and told me over and over again how sorry she was. She told me between her sobs (and choice words at Simon--because he was there in her apartment), "I'm a good person." And I believe she actually is. 

We were texting today because I had some questions for her. She answered willingly and expressed how she thinks of me daily and hopes I am finding peace. 

I told her that I thank her from the bottom of my heart for calling me that night and freeing me from a hell I didn't know I was living. 

Her answer to that astounded me and made me see what happened in a new light. She said she believed it was meant to be. That she was meant to call me. That maybe she had been put into Simon's path to free me that night. 

Wow. 

The Lord answers our prayers and meets our needs through others. That night in early November The Lord blessed me with a courageous phone call from my husbands mistress. It's a twisted, crazy, heart wrenching blessing. But a blessing nonetheless. Because of her, I know who I am married to. Because of her, Simon could finally recognize he needed help. Because of her, Simon was also freed from his living hell of shame and secrecy and sin! 

My stake president's words came to my mind during our texting: 

"Anne, Heavenly Father heard your prayers over the years. He let Simon use his agency. But He said, 'Enough is enough! I will no longer let this daughter of God, this woman I love, live in a non-celestial marriage any longer!' Anne, I firmly believe that He prepared you for that night, that everything happened the way it did for a reason. Your Heavenly Father was reaching out and protecting you."

I know my stake president is right. 

After talking with TOW, I also realized something else about her: she doesn't love Simon. Her attachment was lust too. She cares nothing for his improvement nor his recovery. She doesn't care about the deep, emotional underlying issues that contributed to his very poor and self-destructive behaviors and choices. She basically hates him. And she's allowed to. 

And I realized something about me too: that I do love Simon. I care about how he got to this point. I care about those deep, childhood issues. I care about his recovery. I care about him as a person and grieve with him for his choices even though he is the source of my pain. That is definitely brotherly love. A love only the Savior and I seem to have for Simon right now. 

I'm so glad I answered that call. 

Yoked with the Savior

I've read the following scripture a thousand times:  Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

But this one is new to me:  Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage. (Galatians 5:1)

I reached out to someone who has dealt with almost my same situation and she shared the above scripture with me. It was like a light bulb illuminated over my head as I realized that I was wrongly yoked with my husband and not my Savior. Yoking myself to my husband and his sins is bondage. Yoking myself to my Savior is liberty. 

My identity has been wrapped up in being a wife first, not first and foremost a daughter of God. I've forgotten my liberty. My free agency. That marvelous gift that let's me choose righteousness and allows me to come to my Savior for aid and relief. 

This same person I reached out to--let's call her Carly--painted this picture for me:  A yoke binds two oxen together so they can help one another pull the load. If we are yoked to the wrong person (anyone other than our Savior!) then we will be moving in circles. That wrong person--oxen #1/addict--will sit in the muck while we desperately try to move forward. We will get nowhere. Never progressing. Or maybe they do move, but down the wrong path, a place that me as an individual was never meant to go. 

But if we yoke ourselves to the Savior, the burden is light, because we are a team. We become of one heart and one mind. We move forward together. I progress toward being the person Heavenly Father dreams I will become. I stay on the path that leads to personal joy and happiness. 

Likewise, our addicted loved one has to yoke himself to the Savior. We can't help pull the load for him. But we can cheer from the sidelines. We can love and support while keeping our own identity intact and not get pulled into the muck. 

There is blissful freedom in the knowledge that I am a Daughter of God. Yes, I am a wife, mother, sister and friend. Those are important and good as well. But I AM A DAUGHTER OF GOD. I chose free agency, I chose to come to earth to prove MYSELF worthy to return to my Heavenly Father. 

And I can only do that by choosing to yoke myself with My Savior. I am responsible for my own salvation. I have to make it. 

Amazingly enough, I have never felt closer to my Savior. I never knew I could feel such pain and heartache, but I never knew that the pain and heartache I'm experiencing could be the very things that have lead me to lean on Him so greatly and allow Him to help me with my burdens. 

It is truly amazing. I am so grateful He willingly yokes himself to all of us individually. That He is happy to strengthen me just as much as he is happy to strengthen my husband if we will but come to Him and cast our burdens at His feet. 

Porn Kills Love

I did something brave today. I ordered a "Porn Kills Love" t-shirt from Fightthenewdrug.org. It's brave to me because I plan on wearing it. Scary! 

I feel like if I wear it, everyone will know my family's disgusting secrets. But I want to slam this message in everyone's face. People need to know: Porn kills love. 

I love what Fight the New Drug is doing to spread awareness and I want to be part of it. Porn is not harmless as you all know. Porn is not victimless as you all know. Porn is filth. It must be stopped. 

Join the movement. Be a fighter. Wear a shirt. 

SAnon or ARP?

For weeks I've been hearing and reading about the debate of attending SAnon or the Church's ARP, both for addicts and loved ones. Which is better? Which one will help the most?

After attending both now, the answer for me and my husband is GO TO BOTH. Here's what I've found. 

WHAT I LIKE ABOUT S-ANON:

-structure 

-anonymity

-no cross talk

-experienced members

-efficiency

-community fellowship

-unabashed honesty

At SAnon everything seems orderly. We have a schedule and stick to it. I love the strength and experience of the women there. I love all the practical resources they offer. I love the slogans and tools and find myself repeating them daily. They help immensely. And though SAnon is spiritual and a Higher Power is constantly referenced, it's nice to focus on real life situations of the members and glean from their experience, strength and hope as they successfully recover for themselves. 

At first, I felt awkward with the whole "Hi, I'm Anne" thing to which everyone in the group responds at once "Hi Anne." And then once you're done speaking everyone says, "Thanks Anne." It was so funny to me and I smiled awkwardly a few times in the beginning. But now I LOVE IT. Why? Because you feel validated. You feel recognized. You feel you have rapt attention. You feel understood. You feel welcome. It's a simple little thing to say your name and have it repeated back to you. But I've come to understand that it is everything during this emotional, scary and lonely time. 

Everyone experiencing the trauma of a loved one's addiction should go to SAnon. I will never stop going. 

WHAT I LIKE ABOUT ARP:

-religious understanding

-focus on the Atonement

-open discussion 

-welcoming

-non-judgmental 

I love attending for the spiritual aspects. I love the quotes, scriptures and experiences found in the steps. I love that the church is more openly acknowledging the shame around addiction and giving us a program to find healing and support. I love that I can pretty much speak when I'd like during the meeting. 

However, because there isn't a "no cross talk" rule, and because at least in mine there is no real structure for sharing, the meeting can easily be monopolized by one or two people. I end up feeling frustrated by this because I know that there are certain women in the group who would like to talk but don't really get the chance. And that is unfair. During this time, you need support not opinions and advice. And sadly, at mine there seem to be a lot of well-intentioned but unasked for opinions. What works for one person may not work for the next. 

I love the facilitator of the group, but she is unable to REALLY and PERSONALLY relate since they were called to serve in this position and are not recovering addicts and spouses themselves. At our last meeting, she apologized ahead of time that she would be saying the word "masturbation."  That irked me. If we are trying to eliminate the shame and talk with complete honesty about this addiction and our recovery from it's effects on us then for heavens sake don't make the word "masturbation" seem so awful and embarrassing that you have to warn us ahead of time. That's adding to the problem! Again, she is amazing. She is compassionate. She is welcoming. She works hard. But it is huge to me to know she has not gone through this herself. Because of that, I just can't fully connect to her. 

But with that said, GO. Your particular group may be vastly different than mine. And if it's the same as mine, still go. You can strengthen others and strengthen your testimony. The women in your group need you. And you will be an even greater force for good if you can share with them what you've gained from SAnon. 

My biggest concern is that Mormons just go to ARP because it is church approved and think that's all the support they need. You can NEVER have enough GOOD support. You need BOTH SAnon and ARP. 

Thankfully, my meetings are on separate nights so I am able to do both. Life is now jam packed with meetings for my husband and I: SA, SAnon, ARP, therapy, couples therapy, firesides, etc. We are busier than ever and it actually feels good. Thankfully, we are so far able to juggle it all. 

If you're forced to choose one meeting over the other in a particular week, then assess your needs and choose which meeting you think will help the most. You know yourself best. 

For me, I need SAnon. There is something special about it. My husband feels the same about SA. I most always leave feeling hopeful and more confident in myself and my capabilities. 

I'm not a bad Mormon for saying I've found a little more support away from the church's program. It doesn't mean you don't have enough faith in the gospel. It doesn't mean you're angry or bitter. There is truth to be found everywhere. SAnon and ARP when attended together complement each other wonderfully. It is such a blessing. 

You need the sisterhood of LDS and non-member friends alike. 

"Keep coming back, it works every time if you work it, and you're worth it!"

My Story, Part Four: Worst Year of My Life

2014 started out with a bang. We were in a new state, had our twins and bought a house. Simon got a promotion only a few months into his new role. A lot was happening. 

My life was busy taking care of three little kids and Simon worked worked worked. But it had become excessive. He was always calling and letting me know of a last minute meeting that he had to stay late for, or there was an out of town conference he was sure he had told me about. He was always gone or home late.   On his days off, there would be a sudden mandatory meeting he had to go into work for. Or he had gotten sick and had to stay the night. A few times I was told that traffic was just horrendous and he was exhausted so he was going to spend the night at our friends' apartment. 

I was alone. 

I blew up at him one Sunday afternoon after he had spent the night away again last minute. Why don't you want to come home! I screamed and cried. And Simon said, Because I'm not happy at home. He cried and told me he felt I was always mad at him and that I wasn't affectionate to him. It was a big ol' cryfest. I promised to be more affectionate. Simon promised to be home more. 

That night, Simon's phone rang while we sat on the couch watching tv. He jumped up, answered and went outside. He was gone for about an hour or so, so I went outside to find him. I'll never forget seeing him sitting in his car, laughing and talking and smiling. I went back inside. 

When he came back into the house, He told me it was his friend Sam. I ignored him. The next day I texted him how hurt I felt that he would choose to talk to a friend over me, especially since the other morning he had cried and accused me of not showing him affection. I told him I couldn't be affectionate if he wasn't around. (Hint: He hadn't been talking to Sam.)

Life continued. Simon was gone always working. I was home, stressed and tired with keeping three kids alive. My family was concerned about me. They didn't understand how someone would be required to work THAT much. I always defended him. 

November 7th: the kids and I went to stay at my parents house (they live only 20 minutes away) since Simon had another out of town conference. I was always fine home by myself but for some reason felt like I should just be at my parents house that weekend and then go to church with them so I'd have help with the kids. 

November 8th: Simon texted me saying he would be home that night and we would all spend the night at my parents. It was a normal day. My parents left for a business dinner, I put the babies to bed and sat down to read a book while Jimmy played games on the computer. Simon would be there late, he had said. 

The phone rang. I never answer my parents telephone. Never. Especially if it's a number I don't recognize because they get a crazy amount of telemarketers. But I answered it. I was meant to answer it. Heavenly Father had placed me in a safe environment, He was looking out for me, He had me answer that call. 

Five seconds after saying Hello, my world shattered. It was trashed. Desecrated. The woman on the other end had been dating my husband for the past six months. She had no idea he was married. He had gone by a different name. She had finally become suspicious and searched his phone, found my parents number and called it. I will forever be grateful to that woman. She cried and cried and I heard her kick Simon out of her apartment. He knew she had called me. He knew that I knew. 

I can't even write my emotions of that night. It's something I never want to relive and thankfully I'm slowly starting to forget  exactly how I felt. But it was excruciating. And I was scared of my husband. What else was he capable of? Who is he?!

My family rushed to my aid. Heavenly Father blessed me, for He had my support system all in place for me. 

When Simon got to my parents house he acted like nothing had happened. My dad calmly confronted him and urged him to confess. He denied everything. He spun a story trying to cover up his lies. Even with proof (multiple pictures) staring him in the face he still denied it all. My dad kicked him out. 

I didn't sleep at all. 

The next day, Simon admitted everything. Reality had finally hit and he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. All I wanted to know was, WHY?!  His answer was, I don't know. He sobbed some more. 

We separated for a month. It was filled with endless tears, long, painful conversations, lots of family opinions, and prayer after prayer after prayer. It was exhausting. 

And I learned something: it all started with pornography. 

All the craziness and secrets and lies of the past four years suddenly made sense. And I felt like a complete idiot. How could I have been so blind? So naive? How could he be so cruel and calculating and heartless? 

Simon was excommunicated. I continued to still uncover lies. He was always caught and never confessed voluntarily to something he'd covered up. It was maddening. I just didn't understand how it was possible to live that double life and deceive everyone around you. But he swore he loved me. He begged. He wanted to get better. He promised he would change. He admitted he had serious issues and he was willing to do whatever it took. 

I waffled (and still do) between divorce, separation, and staying. If I were reading this story as someone else, someone who's never dealt with infidelity/sexual addiction, I would be screaming DIVORCE HIM NOW. I know that's what my family wants. 

And I would be gone in a heartbeat, if it weren't for the extraordinary changes I'm seeing in Simon. Changes only I can see. Once everything was out on the table and he was being honest, he started to come out of the fog. Pornography and sex addiction feeds on isolation. But now the secret was out. And honestly, it wasn't until he went to his first Sexaholics Anonymous meeting that he really changed. For the first time he said he felt hope that he could overcome it. 

The kids and I moved back in but we stayed in separate bedrooms. Simon was overjoyed. He cried and thanked me. He had begged me not to divorce him. I made sure he knew this was a trial. If he was going to change then I needed to see it firsthand for myself so I could make an educated decision and have no regrets. I set up boundaries and rules. 

So where are we now? It's been two weeks since moving back in. We're living together but separated. He attends SA, I attend SAnon. He sees a sexual addiction therapist tomorrow. We will go to our first Addiction Recovery Program meeting together tomorrow night. 

We talk daily. Big talks. Soul bearing talks. I'm learning all about my husband. I'm hearing his story, watching him sob bitterly and apologize over and over. It all started with a young teenage boy's choice to watch pornography. He never dreamed how it would literally destroy his life and effect the lives of his wife and children and family. 

But I've made a choice too: I will not be destroyed by this. I will recover. I will trust in my Savior. I will win regardless of whether or not Simon can stay sexually sober and prove to us he can and will be the man we need. 

There are many choices, many bends in my road. And it's ok that I don't have all the answers right now. I desperately want them but over and over I feel my Heavenly Father telling me, "It's ok to not know right now. The answers will come. You have a great life ahead." 

My Heavenly Father loves me. He will not abandon me. So come what may. I can do hard things. I have a great life ahead. I can endure to the end. I am Anne Girl. 

My Story, Part Three: Babies and Secrets

I didn't expect our big move to be so hard on me. I honestly fell into mild depression. I was home alone in our apartment all day while Simon worked. I didn't have a car, job, friends or family. I had nothing to do and felt so lonely. 

I've always been a happy person and I couldn't understand why I was so depressed. 

October General Conference weekend I was mainly by myself while Simon worked. When he left Saturday night to attend priesthood session I was so happy. Simon was pretty standoffish about making new friends and usually not very outgoing at church. Over the years I had tried many time to help us make friends with other couples but Simon was content with his old friends. Thankfully, they were married, so we just hung out with them. But it always irritated me that MY friends just weren't good enough for him or that he wouldn't even try to get to know other people. 

When he got home, I was anxious to hear about what the Brethren had taught and who Simon had sat with. He told me it was great and that afterward he had gone to get ice cream with a bunch of guys from our ward. I was so happy!

A few days later, I noticed a weird charge on our bank account for the night of priesthood session. I looked up the establishment. It was a strip club. 

I asked Simon about it and he was so shocked. Someone must have stolen his credit card! I immediately believed him. So I called the police, they came, and we filled out a report. Simon looked them in the eyes and told them he had gone to a church meeting that night and then out to ice cream. (He lied to the police!)

A few days later, I noticed a charge on our cable account. For a porn movie. I immediately called Simon. He said he never ordered it, how could he?, he had been at work! I believed him. I called the cable company to dispute it. My husband doesn't look at porn, I said. He would never buy that! (The lady I talked to over the phone must have felt so sorry for me. I was so clueless.)

We had our first baby, Jimmy, the next year. Oh how we love him. Simon cried. He was the best daddy and just loved his little boy. Simon was truly amazing and took care of us so tenderly. 

We moved two more times. Simon was getting promoted and gaining lots of attention. He's truly great at his job and because of the increasing stress and responsibility he naturally seemed to be working more and more. But I was supportive. 

I remembered the wife of his mission president and her advice to me: Always remember that he's working for you. It's hard to be a young mother. But remember that he's working to give you a life he wants for his family.

So I was supportive. But I knew my marriage was seriously lacking in passion and that confused me. Aren't guys supposed to want it all the time? I tried to be intimate and it seemed I was always the one to initiate it. It was frustrating and hurt my self-esteem. Sometimes, he'd just dismiss me completely saying he was just stressed or tired or didn't feel well. He told me over and over how much he loved me. So why wouldn't he show me?

Right before I got pregnant the second time ( which was truly a miracle since like I said we were hardly ever intimate going months in between) I caught Simon looking at a personals ad on Craigslist. I didn't see the message, but just knew it was a personals ad. He said he liked to look at them sometimes because they were so funny and people were so pathetic on there. I talked to him about how that looked to me, and that it was inappropriate. He apologized, he said I was right and he wouldn't go on there again. I believed him. (Sensing a trend here. I believed every word he said to me even though signs were popping up all over the place. I trusted him. My husband is a good person. My husband is a returned missionary. My husband is faithful to me. I never thought otherwise.)

Simon continued to work hard, often away on business trips or for conferences usually on Sundays. I stayed at home with Jimmy. I went to church alone without my husband almost every week. I carried my family spiritually in every way and basically became matriarch AND patriarch. 

We became pregnant, with twins!, and moved back to California to be by family. I will forever be grateful for that move. I truly believe Heavenly Father was working to provide me with an atmosphere of support and love for what I would soon discover. He knew I would need to be home. 

My Story, Part Two: The Newlywed Years

Simon and I were best friends. The newlywed years were so special and fun and passionate. We lived in a dark, spider-filled basement with carpet in the kitchen. We used cardboard boxes for side tables and for our tv stand. We were poor and happy. 

We discovered The Office and 24 and spent hours on the couch cuddling. Simon worked and I went to school and had a part time job. Simon just wasn't into school. He didn't like it. He didn't like studying. He liked making money. He did a few semesters then decided to take a break. (He never went back.) Thankfully, Simon IS a hard worker. He is motivated and ambitious and charming. He always provided wonderfully for us. 

I graduated. We hung around In Idaho a bit more while Simon worked on his career. Eventually, his career led us to move to the other side of the country. I was happy to go along and support my husband. It was a new adventure and we were taking it together. 

My Story, Part One: Anne Girl Meets Simon

I suppose I should first start by describing myself. I am a hopeless romantic. My childhood was filled with a love for musicals, plays, books, drama and an obsession for Anne of Green Gables. I simply adored her. She was fiery and determined and theatrical and that silly schoolboy, Gilbert Blythe, just adored her. 

That's something I always wanted: to be adored, sought after, dreamed of, pursued, loved. I wanted my own Gil. 

But dating was oh so awkward for me! I just didn't like it. There were quite a few boys who wanted to date me, and I pretty much just ran from them. Or hid from them. Like literally hid. There was really only one boy I ever really liked, and I likes him for years. Then I turned 16 and suddenly I became his girlfriend and I freaked out!! I couldn't handle it. Holding hands at lunch was just way too much pressure for me. I'm serious. I didn't like it. 

So honestly, I just didn't date guys. Sure, I went on dates for fun but I never felt comfortable and they never really went anywhere. Honestly, I really just wanted to find "the one." That's all I wanted. I wanted my Gilbert Blythe. I wasn't interested in anybody but that perfect guy for me. 

Flash forward to BYU-Idaho. I was a sophomore and thinking about serving a mission. I really wanted to go and secretly hoped I'd be sent to Prince Edward Island. It would be a dream come true!

One evening, as I sat with my roommates, the phone rang. It was for me. And it was a boy named Simon. Simon? Who's Simon? I thought. I answered the phone, I small talked, all the while pretending I knew who he was, because he obviously knew me! And he asked me out on a date. I was so flattered and it was all so mysterious and romantic. I said yes without even knowing who this guy was and what he looked like. 

When I hung up, I ran to look through our ward menu (aka photo directory) and found Simon. And he was dang good-looking! I was beaming. 

He picked me up a few nights later and we walked to campus to go country dancing ( later Simon told me he absolutely hates country music and dancing but thought it was a good way to break the touch barrier and dissolve the awkwardness of a first date. Sly little fella.) I was in awe of him. I loved how he dressed, how he talked, how he smiled. I loved the curls in his hair and the freckles on his skin. He was so kind and gentle and fun and gentlemanly. And I felt comfortable. 

We danced and held hands and laughed and talked. I still remember dancing close to him, following our instructors, and breathing in the scent of his cologne. With every moment that passed I was more and more enamored with him. 

I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. We saw each other every. single. day. after that. I had finally found my Gilbert! Being in love was magical and new and he treated me like a queen. I loved him and adored him and couldn't wait to marry him. I felt complete. 

We dated for about 5 months-mostly long distance over the phone. I traveled to meet his family back east and he came to meet mine in California. Simon proposed to me, I said yes!, and five months later we were married for time and all eternity in the Los Angeles Temple. It was the happiest day of my life. 

Out of the Pit...For Now

I got pulled out of the pit. Ironically, by Simon, the man who pushed me in. It took long hours of sobbing and expressing feelings and worries and triggers and lots and lots of cookie dough. 

That's every day for me: into the pit, out of the pit, consume cookie dough, throw away a mound of Kleenex, hug it out, repeat. 

Good news: Simon is changing drastically. He's starting to become the man I always hoped he'd be. But of course, that could change. It's a hard thing to prepare for--one half of you clinging to hope, the other half bracing for a relapse. It stirs up some crazy conflicting emotions and when I get that panic attack of "my life is out of my control", I remember this: "I am responsible for my own happiness." 

It's liberating. It calms me. Everything will be alright. 

But back to Simon. Really, he's been great. He listens to me when I wail and mourn and scream "why!?" He responds with humility and kindness and honesty. Every day he tells me how sorry he is, how much he loves me, how he's changing, how he's sober. It's a great start. And truly, we've never communicated so much as we do now. 

Last night, we stayed up until 1:30 talking. And though each talk is painful and we pretty much cry through every one, I feel happier with each talk we have. With each bearing of his soul, I feel us grow closer. 

Trust will be a long time coming. Forgiveness comes and goes for me. 

Love for Simon is strong at times and non-existent at others. 

The one constant is my faith in the Atonement. That Jesus Christ wants to heal me if I let Him. Like the children of Israel and that brass serpent on the pole, all I must do is look to Him and be healed. Not just once and call it good but look to Him, come to Him, follow Him, believe Him, be like Him each and every day. Then will I truly LIVE. He will heal me if I desire it. 

And oh do we desire it. 

In the Pit

I lost myself tonight. I sunk deep into the depths of despair. My family was walking through a nearby neighborhood dubbed "Candy Cane Lane" for it's dizzying display of Christmas lights, decorations and cheer and all the while I sunk lower and deeper into depression. 

Families everywhere laughed and talked and snapped pictures and I just wanted to leave so I could go home and cry into my pillow. How sad for my children. They deserve a mom who's happy and fun. I tried my best to plaster a smile onto my face but the weight of the betrayal pressed hard on my chest. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to scream. I just wanted to be happy. And I couldn't. 

Simon was great tonight. He really played with the kids, was positive, and made it magical for them. He seemed happy. And that makes me so flipping angry!

Because I feel like he has no right to be happy. I feel sometimes like he got off scot-free. He's excommunicated now so he's no longer a member. But he wasn't coming to church anyways. He doesn't get to wear garments now. But he wasn't wearing them anyways. He can't pay tithing. But he never voluntarily paid it anyways. So what does he care? His wife, me, and the kids are still living with him. So what's changed? He just no longer has a girlfriend? Is that it?! 

So what the hell am I doing here? Why am I here trying to give my all? Why. He doesn't deserve me. He cast us into the gutter. He abandoned us. He chose filth over a pure, loyal and loving family. 

Never in my life have I been mad at my Heavenly Father. Never. I always took my little trials with faith and believed He wouldn't give me anything that I couldn't handle. But I'm mad now. I despise Simon for giving me this trial that's made me feel so mad at my Father. 

Simon knows I'm on edge. He's either been giving me space or chatting my ear off about stupid, inconsequential stuff. I know he's just waiting for me to explode. But I'm tired of my outbursts. What I really want him to do is reverse time and never make the mistakes he's made. Or I wish Heavenly Father had just zapped him with a bolt of lightning before he chose to go down this path that's destroyed the lives of his family. 

I wish he'd zap Simon right now. I wish he'd zap me. Just anything to get me out of this pit that Simon has shoved me into.

I'm not supposed to be here.  

My Dear WOPA Sisters,

I wish it was General Conference time again. I almost ache for it. I ache to hear words, given in the moment, personally for me and my situation as a wife of a porn addict. 

The Brethren, and most importantly The Lord, know of our struggles. It is so comforting. But how many times have I heard them preach and counsel from the pulpit on the "pernicious plague of pornography"? Dozens? Hundreds? 

And I'd sit there and think, yeah that stuff is scary! How am I going to protect my children from it? Never did I realize that plague was secretly seeping through the walls of my home and polluting the purity of my husband, and your husbands, in every way. It destroys spiritually, physically, emotionally, mentally. It brings spiritual death. It is a plague. 

It was effecting me and my children already and I didn't even know it. Yes. It is absolutely terrifying!

I've said this before, I had no idea this world existed. I had no idea the destruction this plague left in it's wake. I read your stories and I am just baffled, just baffled!, at how I could have been so blind and deaf to the suffering of so many of my fellow sisters. Dear sisters, how could I not know of your pain!? 

Mercifully, The Brethren know it. The Lord Jesus Christ knows it. And now I know it. I am amazed at all of you. You are remarkable. Your strength is unbelievable. Your faith is unshakeable. Your pain is my pain. 

This experience has taught me true empathy and given me a renewed sense of purpose to not just avoid sin but proactively rid it from every facet of my life be it almost insignificant. I feel like I've been awakened from a deep sleep and I see the evil in the world that I previously naively dismissed. 

No longer will I let it seep in through the walls of my home, nor come through the door, or through the internet or tv. It takes serious work and vigilance in this day and  digital age, but it is worth it. It is imperative! 

We've got three and a half months til next general conference. It can't come soon enough. I'm already starting to pray that the speakers, the apostles and the prophet might know of our situations through the whisperings of the Spirit and give us that personal message and revelation that we all so desperately seek after. Won't you please pray for that with me? 

Meanwhile, I pour over the scriptures and past general conference talks and your blogs to find inspiration and hope. 

Dear sisters, I love your words. Thank you for strengthening me. 

Love,

AnneGirl

A Weakness: Fantasizing

Simon and I were separated for a month after DDay. During that time, the hardest part of the day were the few quiet hours between my kids bedtime and mine. I would feel overwhelmingly lonely. So alone and scared and nervous about how I was going to get through life as a single mom, alone every night to watch TV by myself with no one to cuddle with on the couch. 

I would waffle between missing Simon and simply missing just someone--a husband mainly. I have always wanted to be married. I have always loved having a husband. I haven't always loved having Simon as my husband though. I'll admit there were a few times where I would fantasize about what life and marriage may have looked like for me had I married this guy, or that guy, or that ex boyfriend etc. Its not a healthy fantasy, and in that department, fantasizing, is I guess where Simon and I have some common ground. 

True, my fantasizing was never usually sexual (well embarrassing to say, but hello sometimes you just can't control your dreams ya know--and not to blame Simon too much, but because he was a sexual anorexic with me I felt very dissatisfied and unfulfilled a lot! I'm only human dagnabbit!) 

What I'm trying to say, is I get the whole fantasizing thing. Sometimes, it just innocently happens. But where it crosses the line and becomes unhealthy is when you are actively and consciously feeding the fantasizing, preparing for it, wishing to live it and playing it out until ultimately it becomes reality. Super dangerous. Man, I hate Satan so much. I want nothing more than to sucker punch that creep in the face. Ugh. 

As I've begun, and I mean just barely begun, my own recovery from all the betrayal I've realized that fantasizing gets in the way of my happiness and clouds my judgement and sets up dangerous expectations. 

Those nights I felt alone Id fantasize about Simon getting over the addiction, making a miraculous recovery and envisioned us as mission presidents one day and how he'd be this amazing, spiritual giant I had always hoped for. That's dangerous. Why? I'm setting expectations for my life for a future we may never have. And if I set my heart on that, and it doesn't come true, then I'll crash into the depths of despair. Not good. 

Other times, I'd fantasize about divorcing Simon and feeling free! It would be my second chance at life. I'd date and flirt and find someone better, someone healthy, someone who never ever ever had seen pornography. We'd be so happy and I'd finally have that happily ever after I deserved. Again, not good. No, not at all. Because in those moments I was setting up more dangerous expectations. There is no guarantee I will ever get married again. There is no guarantee that I will find a life free of care and trials. It simply doesn't exist. 

The point is no matter where I go from this point on, life will be hard. 

Staying married to a recovering sex addict will be hard. Leaving and being a single mom will be hard. Basically, life's tough so get a helmet. 

Don't misunderstand me, I need dreams and hope for the future. Without hope I'll crumble. But having hope and happiness in this very moment, in this day, is far more healthy than charting out an impossibly perfect five, ten, fifty year plan of what I want my ideal life to look like--my fantasies. 

This is truly a hard step for me. I like my imagination. I'm dramatic. I'm creative. I love a good, sappy, cheesy love story. I like fantasizing about a perfect world. I love thinking about plot lines and book ideas. 

But fantasy must end. It just isn't healthy. Fantasizing about a perfect Simon leaves me open to getting terribly hurt if he makes a mistake. Fantasizing about a terrible, evil Simon who gets what he deserves, robs me of hope. 

So what do I hope for at the moment?:

Happiness despite my circumstances. 

Confidence despite my shortcomings. 

Love and forgiveness in my family despite Simon's mistakes. 

Healing despite the trauma and injustice. 

Clarity and revelation despite the negative feelings. 

I dream of these things. And they can be my reality. And that would be perfect. 

Now that I'm back in my house, I'm not lonely at night anymore. Actually, it's my favorite part of day. The kids go to sleep and Simon and I hold hands and talk. And not just talk, but communicate. We've been communicating more now than we ever have and it is so heartfelt and genuine and forgiving at times that I can't hardly believe we went the last four years without it. It's a great feeling. 

Simon even gave me "love eyes" last night. I haven't seen those in a long time. I wanted to cry. It's this look he gets when I know he's truly in love with me. I can see the admiration and tenderness and esteem he has for me start sparkling in his eyes and it's amazing. The last four years, his eyes have been blank and void and lifeless. 

Those "love eyes" have given me the greatest hope yet that Simon is coming out of his own fantasies and seeing that I am reality. And I'm a pretty dang good one. Lucky Simon. 

Love,

AnneGirl

starts sad, ends happy

I always write in the mornings. Therefore, my posts usually start with the word "yesterday." 

Yesterday, was busy. I started the morning by waking in my own bed in my own house. 

The kids and I had moved back in the day prior--though I made it clear to Simon that we were still separated and he'd sleep in a spare room. I laid out all my boundaries. He wrote them down like a little terrified schoolboy taking notes from his pinched nose, cranky teacher. That was Monday. 

But yesterday I woke up already moved in. It was weird. I read a few of my fellow WOPA (wife of porn addict) bloggers and stories and though I love them and relate to them and need them. They were triggering the crap out of me. 

When Simon came into the room to say good morning, I cried and poured my heart out. Again. I told him my insecurities. I admitted that in my efforts to control his addiction (I.e. Monitor his emails like a psycho every hour all night and day eliminating any evil spam that could tempt him) I felt myself getting desensitized and exposed. I hate it!!!!

Because I don't want these emails to keep coming back, I have to unsubscribe where possible. And of course to unsubscribe you HAVE to click on the link and go to the website. Satan doesn't make it easy on you to quit. He makes you dig through filth to get out. He doesn't give up any power easily, he wails and gnashes his teeth. He makes me see dozens of pictures of naked women. He corrupts me too. 

Simon said he didn't want me to click on those links. He said he didn't want me to see that stuff. He's just been emptying the spam folder altogether so he doesn't even see the titles. And I believe him. He's been remarkable the last couple days. The changes in him are pretty amazing and bring me to tears. (Example. He said a prayer that morning that was the most heartfelt, humble and kind that I had ever heard come from him. He prayed for me that my pain would heal. He prayed that he would once again feel like a son of God and regain his temple blessings.)

I admitted something else to Simon. Something VERY personal and embarrassing. 

When all the craziness started happening and I found out about the pornography problem being the basis and first step in his journey to having a 6 month affair, I also learned that masturbation always accompanies the porn. I lived in a G-rated world. I didn't know they were always linked. 

So yes I'm naive, I guess. No, I don't like that word. I wasn't naive. I was pure-minded and innocent. 

Anyways, the concept was foreign to me. I didn't understand it. Why would you do that to yourself?! So, in my curiosity to understand Simon and the situation--and this is the personal and embarrassing part--I touched myself...ya know...down there. For seriously like 5 seconds. And yes, you can stir up some serious sexual feelings on your own. 

I told this to Simon. He listened intently, without interrupting (it's one of my boundaries.) When I finished, he told me to be so very careful. 

"It's powerful," Simon said. "Don't mess around with it. I don't want you getting sucked in." He was genuinely concerned. 

Trust me, I'm not doing that again. Call me crazy, but that's supposed to be my husbands job if we ever get back to intimacy. Right now it's out of the question. Simon needs to dry out for 90 days before we even think about that. 

So my day started with crying. Man, am I tired of feeling like a basket-case all the time. Simon said he wishes someone would just punch him in the face and get it over with. There are plenty who want to believe me, mainly my mom. (That's a post for another day.)

The good news is: the rest of the day was pretty great. We shopped with the kids, hung Christmas lights that look more Hannukah blue than white, ate some Philly cheesesteaks, watched A Christmas Story, played with the kids, and hugged a lot. 

There's really been no kissing. No way. But I do feel close to Simon. We can't stop hugging. It's more like clinging onto dear life because we have no clue what to do or what's going to happen. We cling to each other all day. 

The day ended with me attending my S-Anon meeting. It was only my second time and I'm so glad I went back. I already felt stronger at the meeting. I bawled my first time there. (Again, a post for another time.)

When I got back, Simon was waiting for me. The kids were all asleep in bed with pajamas on (pre DDay they would be just in a diaper or half dressed), the house was clean (pre DDay it would be a disaster and dinner would still be on the table), and Simon was reading from SA literature (pre DDay he would be playing video games and would barely acknowledge if I walked by him.)

It brought tears to my eyes and made my heart nearly explode with gratitude and joy. I hope it lasts. To see him waiting for me, happy to see me, reading!, the house clean, it was just darn fantastic. 

Simon listened to how my meeting went. I shared stories from the book with him. He shared his insights and other things he had remembered from his own meeting. 

We both agreed that we had been impressed with the reminder to "live in the moment." I think Simon and I have deeply communicated more in the past couple weeks than we have in the past couple years. It's crazy. It's nice. We read in Moses and said prayers together. 

I went to bed feeling hopeful and actually happy. And that was crazy nice. 

Love,

AnneGirl

another decision

Yesterday I felt sick all. day. long. It was a throw-up feeling, a pit in my stomach, I would sob intermittently all day long when no one could see. I felt traumatized. It was the same emotions and depression as the day I found out about the affair--D-Day.

I was getting that confusion again: what is feeling? and what is inspiration?

This nagging thought of, will I regret not giving it my all?, would not leave me. I know my answer that morning I found the sexting images was inspired. I know that came from Heavenly Father. I acted on that prompting. I obeyed. And I think it set into motion Simon's real desire for recovery.

I've been re-reading all of the talks from last general conference, and it's been amazing. Seriously, so many of the talks just speak to me and have helped me in this experience. Yesterday I read President Henry B. Eyring's talk Continuing Revelation. Near the beginning he says:

We all know that human judgment and logical thinking will not be enough to get answers to the questions that matter most in life. We need revelation from God. And we will need not just one revelation in a time of stress, but we need a constantly renewed stream. We need not just one flash of light and comfort, but we need the continuing blessing of communication with God.

Receiving just one revelation in this experience is not enough. I need a constantly renewing stream of revelation to navigate my way through this. That answer amazed me. The inspiration I had to tell Simon we needed a divorce was inspired. But that cannot be the only revelation I will need. Revelation needs to be renewed hourly, daily, weekly, etc.

Each day is new, with different questions and challenges and needs. I need continual revelation, each and every day. And just because I may receive revelation in the future that may be opposite to that initial one, does not mean I was wrong or misunderstood the whisperings of the Spirit. If I believe in modern revelation, I believe in revelation of the moment. Things change and new revelation will always be needed. It's the whole reason we have living prophets! We don't just stick to the Bible because it came first. We focus on revelation for our day because it pertains to us more personally and accurately.

I still feel like divorce was right. But it doesn't mean that I have to file tomorrow. I need time. That was the answer I kept getting yesterday. I need time. Not because Simon wants it. But because I need it.

There's a certain paragraph in my patriarchal blessing that speaks directly to my situation. It is amazing. And it is scary. I'm sharing it, and it is so sacred and special to me, to show the validity and strength that patriarchal blessings give us. It scares me, like I said, but it gives me hope in me:

You have a great life ahead. You came to this earth at this particular time with a gift from Heavenly Father. Satan is having great success ruining families and destroying morality. This gift will help you and assist you in helping others to withstand these terrible temptations of Satan. I bless you to recognize and use this gift.

Amazing. I've read my patriarchal blessing dozens of times before all this. I never knew that this paragraph was telling me that pornography would infiltrate my family and try to destroy it. That Satan would have a firm grasp on my husband. And that I was strong enough to combat it.

Something so interesting to me is the opening phrase, "You have a great life ahead." I feel SO much love and peace from those simple words. Heavenly Father is telling me that despite all of this, I will be happy, I will have a great life, with or without Simon. It is exactly what I need to hear.

Divorce seems like the end of life. That's how I felt yesterday. Like my life was ending. I felt so so so helpless and hopeless. I've cried out many times in prayer, How will I go on? Is my life ruined? Are my kids lives ruined? Will I ever be happy? And Heavenly Father answers me, "You have a great life ahead!" Oh, how I love my Heavenly Father and His tender mercies for me.

Now what is my gift? Over the years, when I've thought about this, I've come to the conclusion that my gift is spiritual wisdom and strength. I still feel that's true today. Because, I truly do what is right. I have always had a desire for righteousness. I have strength in standing up for and defending my beliefs. It has never been hard for me to live the gospel. I live it and I love it. I know I am an example.

I don't say this with any boasting, at all! I feel so blessed that this is my gift here in mortality. I know the gospel of Jesus Christ is true and so I follow it. I want to be like my Savior, and so I try to emulate Him. And so when I was thinking of divorce and making plans to get it done as soon as possible, I thought of my gift and my patriarchal blessing. And then I felt like I was rushing. I was getting so caught up in making Simon pay for his sins and in feeling justified for doing so.

I want to walk away knowing that I did my best. I want to be able to stand before my Savior one day and feel full confidence that I did everything in my power to help my spouse. If I want my patriarchal blessing to come true, if I want to have a "great life ahead" then I need to use my gift to help myself and help my husband and help others to withstand pornography.

I read a great article that talked about a couple who gave their marriage one year; essentially, the wife gave her sex addict husband one year to get into recovery and stay in recovery. And in that year, she worked on getting herself to the point of confidence and self-reliance so when the year was up and her husband hadn't done what he said he was willing to do, she was able to leave with no regrets and emotionally strong.

That may happen with us. It could be over for sure in a year. Or, if by some miracle, we come out of that year with our marriage strong and Simon in full recovery, then I guess we stay together. I have no idea. I'm nervous, nervous, nervous because I can't see the road ahead. But I love the idea of a year to get myself prepared for whatever outcome is waiting.

And that's a conclusion I've had to get to all by myself. If you're reading this, and you're going through a similar situation, then know this: You can do hard things. Yes, you are going through a real hell. And I'm so sorry. But only you can decide what to do. Do not let yourself be swayed by family and friends or church leaders. All you need is support. Tell them that, tell yourself that. YOU decide what to do. Andrew from Rowboats & Marbles (a great website) told me, "You have a right to be wrong!" Meaning, there is no charted path in sexual addiction, your experience is personal and unique and yes you might think you've made mistakes on how to respond, but that's ok! Be kind with yourself (his sins are not yours). Give yourself time. You must have time to process everything. But with that said, go with your gut. Follow the Spirit. Stay close to the Spirit. YOU can only control yourself. YOU do what you think is right. Follow the Savior, seek revelation, heed His counsel. I'm praying for you.

Love,
AnneGirl

so many words

My thoughts are so jumbled today it's hard to even type them out. Simon does not want a divorce. Neither do I! He said a lot of things last night. He's so hurt. He's getting angry. He wants to keep our family together. He wants to get better and recover with me. But made it clear that he WILL recover, even if I do leave.

He doesn't understand that I want those things too. I do love him. I do want our family to stay together. But those are my wants. I can't dismiss the confirming feeling I got that other morning while I was on my knees telling Heavenly Father that divorce seemed right. I don't want to ignore inspiration. I pleaded for it after all!

I talked with our family friend who is a family lawyer. He told me that just because you get divorced, doesn't mean that you are condemning your spouse. He said we could get divorced and then get remarried the next week if we wanted to! He was trying to be funny of course, but I understood his meaning. And I tried to convey this to Simon.

He said I was dangling our relationship in front of him. I sincerely did no such thing. I was trying to communicate that divorce was what I felt was right at the moment. That I wasn't writing him off. That I would still help him and care for him. And that I hoped we did get remarried if he could prove he was in recovery.

Simon said, "If you want to be with me, then be with me. If you don't want to be with me, then don't."
He's implied that I just want the easy way out. That I don't want to go on this hard and ugly journey with him. He said he doesn't blame me. But he wants to stay married.

But do I want to be with him? I don't know. Finding out about the sexting--as recent as Sunday!--just broke me all over again. Those images I saw, and the ones I've unwillingly imagined in my head from the past four years, are traumatizing. They're disgusting. And once again, I feel like his pornography addiction is sucking me in.

I even had a dream last night that I sat at the computer with Jimmy on my lap. And suddenly a porno movie flashed onto the screen and we watched it. And I awoke terrified that my life and my children's lives were going to be dragged into the filth and muck and sins of this plague. That we would never know freedom from it.

I believe in the Atonement. I know Simon is not lost forever. I sincerely hope and believe that he can recover if he puts his faith in the Lord and does everything in his power to control his appetites. But I'm feeling shackled right along with him. And the only thing I can control is choosing whether to stay or leave.

pictures, counseling, hope, lies

I've never seen a therapist before or been to counseling so this experience was totally new to me. I hope my experience might prepare you to know what's ahead if you're feeling unsure or nervous. As always, just hang in there and do your best. 

The morning of our first session was rocky for me. The day before, I had found pictures on Simon's onedrive. The kind of pictures used for sexting. There were only three but all of him. 

Jimmy was sitting there when I stumbled upon them and I had to quickly distract him and take him into his room. My heart was racing. I checked the pictures for a date. They were taken just two days earlier--the night of our blow up. My heart was exploding. 

A couple thoughts train wrecked in my mind: "He was probably so upset about what I had said that evening. I drove him to do this." And then: "Did he send these pictures to someone?"

Simon has been adamant that he never engaged in sexting. He admitted that he'd talked to women he'd met on chatting/dating apps several times but that is was never sexual. Never. He said this to me--I asked him several times-- and to the stake president and disciplinary council. 

So I asked him again. I immediately texted him and asked how he was doing and if he'd had any slip ups the past few days. (One of the new boundaries was that he had to tell me of any slip ups/acting out within 24 hours of the incident.)

He replied, "No, I haven't."

Lies. But I didn't tell him I knew. I decided to give him more time to come clean about it. 

So we headed to our first counseling session. Along the way, I asked if he could share all his usernames and passwords with me so there was complete transparency. He had promised to be "completely honest" with me, after all. 

He gave me the passwords to log into on my own phone. And I could totally see his mind racing. He was pretty quick with his own phone too, even though he was driving. I'm sure he was checking all his accounts to make sure there was nothing I could stumble upon. 

Simon was extremely nervous at the session. His leg was bouncing all over the place. He was emotional and embarrassed. And I totally understand that. It's an embarrassing topic. He knows what he's done--and doing--is wrong. 

That first visit is mainly just an intro. You tell your story and how you think you for to this point. The therapist asked about how we met, etc. The therapist made sure to validate us both. He was on no ones side. It felt loving and non- judgemental. He referred to an assessment that both Simon and I had filled out prior. Basically they were questions on how strongly you and your spouse agree or disagree on certain things: religious matters, communication, affection, shared interests, etc. 

Simon and I had apparantly both said we had no interests in common. It's sad. We admitted we never went on dates or engaged in activities we could bond over. (Of course, my retort was that it's hard to date someone who's never around. Simon was always irritable and negative when I suggested outings like family hikes or a cooking class we could take together. Simon never dated me voluntarily.)

So our therapist advised that we each make a list of our interests, find common ground, and once a week work on re-dating each other. 

During the session, we talked about concerns or issues as well. I made it a point to tell our therapist that I was concerned that Simon was sexting. Simon adamantly swore that he wasn't. He had never ever done that. I told Simon and the therapist that I found it hard to believe that someone could go from platonic conversations to an affair in one big jump. I was sure he had sexted. 

Again, he promised he hadn't ever done that. Never. 

So we left. I could feel the tension and sadness and awkwardness between us. I asked him again, "Are you sure you've never sexted?" 

"Yes, I'm positive. I'm telling you the truth!" He said. 

"Have you ever taken pictures of yourself to send?" 

"No!"  Simon was getting irritated. 

"Simon I found the pictures."

"What pictures? I didn't take any pictures!" Acting all hurt and defensive. 

"Simon, I found them on your one drive. You took them Sunday." 

He was all dramatic and hurt and acted like he had no idea what I was taking about, like I was some crazy paranoid psycho. 

Then I described the pictures to him. He went silent. He got that face. The "I'm caught" face, the "quick think of a way to lie about it" face. Unfortunately, I know that face well now. Lies. 

Then he admitted. Yes, he'd taken those pictures. He didn't know why. He was embarrassed. He didn't know why he had to lie about it. But no, he didn't send them. He's never sexted. Never. 

Once again, we had the talk about honesty and transparency. 

We spent the day with Simon, had dinner, we talked about common interests and dates we could go on. Simon went to his first Sexaholics Anonymous meeting. When he got back he told me about it and I could tell it had been a good experience. He said it actually felt liberating. He said it had been nice to talk with other men and not feel judged because he knew they'd all done the same things. 

He was so happy he'd gone and so was I. I felt a spark of hope. Even though I don't have those lovey-dovey feelings for him now, I still love him. He's essentially my brother, a child of God. I want to help him. 

But is staying married helping him? That thought sits on my brain 24-7. 

The kids and I spent the night and Simon slept in a spare bed. I had an early Primary Presidency meeting and didn't want to have to drive back to my parents and then back home again the next day. Simon was so happy that he would wake up with his family in the house. Honestly, I was happy too. I felt sad thinking of Simon alone all the time. I knew it was hard for him. But separation had to be a consequence and boundary. 

Of course, I woke up at 6 am. I checked my mail. Then I decided to check Simon's. He'd given me his passwords remember? And there, ironically, in the TRASH, were three emails sent to a woman I didn't know. And these emails contained the same pictures ( and a surprise video) I had found a couple days earlier. Simon had sent them Sunday night right after taking them. 

I trembled. I fell to the floor. I went on my knees and prayed. And though the shock was real, I felt surprisingly calm and non-emotional. I felt like I was getting that confirmation from Heavenly Father that I had been so desperately pleading for. My bishop had said that deciphering between feeling and inspiration would be hard. That I would need to be as close to the Spirit as possible to know when a thought or decision was inspiration from Heavenly Father or not. 

I had my answer and it felt right. 

Simon came into my room to say good morning. He asked if we could say a prayer. We did. I knew he was trying. I knew he was progressing little by little. And it's nice to see. 

But I sat by him on the edge of the bed and calmly--and lovingly as possible-- told him I had found the emails. He got "the face". The deer in the headlights stare. As we talked he admitted that yes he had viewed pornography and sexted that Sunday night. He admitted that yes, all those texting conversations he'd had over the years were sexting conversations.  He admitted that he'd gone to a strip club more than once. 

What's sad and scary for me, as a loved one of a sex addict, is how dissensitized you can become as well. You begin to expect and almost not even bat an eyelash at the things you're spouse has done. You don't condone it, but it becomes less and less shocking and just...expected. And that is terribly, terribly heartbreaking for ME. I don't want this addiction and the lies to be my life too. 

I told Simon that with every lie that gets caught, he's making it easier and easier for me to leave. It just is. I told him I loved him --and I meant it. And I told him we should get divorced. 

He was shell-shocked for a few moments. But then he cried. He sobbed. He begged. I felt so sorry for him. I felt so sad that his life was spiraling out of control. But I felt peace. I felt freed. I felt sure. 

Simon said he felt like he was still having trouble grasping reality. He's dwelt in fantasy and lies for so long. And because he keeps having to get caught to be compelled to tell the truth, I told him I didn't think he'd hit rock bottom yet. I felt divorce was the only way to get him there  and onto recovery. I told him I wanted him to win us back. To fight for us. 

He begged. He said when he was with us he didn't have temptation. 

The S-Anon mantra entered my mind: "I can't control it. I can't change it. I can't cure it." In short, I am not responsible. 

I can't be with Simon every second of the day. I can't be with him on business trips. I can't be in every conversation or dinner he has with co-workers. There are many times when Simon will have to be alone. He has to make the right choices in those moments. He has to get help. He has to work with the stake president. He has to get specialized therapy. He has to work with SA and work the steps. I can't recover for him. Now matter how hard I try and I won't live with an active addiction. My kids will not live with an active addiction. 

That first year we were married, I remember Simon and I sat in our car talking one day about how we'd never say the word "divorce." No matter what, we'd stay together. Twenty year old, newlywed me never dreamed that pornography, lies and infidelity would change that. She didn't know she'd be the one to say "divorce." 

I weep for those two newlyweds. 

AnneGirl

i'm a runner now

Three things: 1. It's STILL raining. A major Southern California miracle.  2. I STILL love it. I think I should move to the Northwest.  3. I'm a runner now. . . Eh, well, not really. 

What I mean is that I actually got out of bed at 6am, put on a sports bra and my blue leopard Nikes and ran/walked on the treadmill for 10 minutes. I'm awesome! All you insane marathon runners out there keep your snickering to yourselves. Because, really I'm awesome. To put this into perspective just imagine Junior High AnneGirl being begged by her PE teacher to just try and run. 

"You've got to get 10 minutes or under for your mile," she tried to persuade me. "You can do that!"

Running just didn't motivate me. Never ever. Basketball? You bet! Volleyball? Of course! Dancing? Please! Track and Field? Heck to the No. I walked that mile, maybe ran the last few yards and got a 10 minute mile. Success, right?

So when I walked/ran for 10 minutes this morning, while watching Octonauts with the my oldest. I wished I could've given my Junior High PE teacher a high five. Cuz it's been a long time coming. Who knew I would suddenly become this awesome runner at the age of 28?! Like I said, I'm awesome.

Like really, all jokes aside, I'm totally proud of myself.

Now off to Family Counseling. Blah.

Love,

AnneGirl--The Runner

rehashing in the rain

So let's start with a positive thought today: I lu-hu-huve rain. Here at my parent's house, the rain just echoes as it pelts the roof above the office where I sit. It's heavenly, therapeutic. I feel like Phyllis from The Office, I totally want to snuggle up in a quilt and just read, read, read. It's gray and dull outside and for some reason that just gets my little writer's heart an extra beat, and extra oomph, a little more drive to just sit and write.

One day, my kids will all be at school and then I'll have hours to sit and write. But that day's pretty far off at the moment. So until then, they get snuggle up in a quilt with me and we can watch Curious George.

Every morning I wake up at 6 am. Not by choice, of course. Heck, no. I'd much rather just sleep! But for some reason, my inner clock just likes being up at 6 on the dot. Maybe it knows I need that one quiet, solitary hour to lay there and think and then get out of bed and write.

This morning I thought about texts. All the texts that Simon and I have written back and forth to each other. And so, even though it was a bad idea, I scrolled through all of our texts the last few months. The Affair Months. And I just shook. Each was punch to the stomach. How could he be so heartless? How could I be so stupid?

Of course, looking back, there were signs GALORE. Which is what makes me feel so stupid and naive. Simon's texts were always pretty short and to the point in response to my questions or my reports on the kids and life. They all screamed, UNINTERESTED. But then there are the texts telling me he would either be home extremely late or that he simply wasn't coming home that night:

I have a really early meeting tomorrow so I'm just going to spend the night in a hotel.

Oh my gosh I'm so sick. The whole team went out for a dinner meeting and we all got sick. I'm just gonna crash here and get a hotel. I can't even drive I'm throwing up so much. 

Traffic is a nightmare. I'm gonna spend the night at Sam's.

So-and-so called out. I have to close now. Be home late. 

I have a last-minute conference tonight. Be home late. I love you!

The car battery died. Waiting on a tow truck. Not sure when I'll be home.

Sorry I never called you last night. I was so tired that as soon as I got to my hotel room I went right to sleep. I can't wait to see you!

Aren't you just absolutely sick to your stomach. I mean, it is truly unbelievable. The callousness and deception to carry on for months like that simply blows my mind. And then I just gawk at my stupidity. A few times, especially when he said he was sick or the car was acting up, I was supportive. I would Oh dear, I'm so sorry that happened! and other times I would be plain pissed and just respond with Ummmm, what? Well that sucks.

It annoyed me to no end, because remember, I knew he was a selfish person. At the time, I thought it was just him not wanting to deal with coming home in bumper to bumper traffic and helping out with the kids just to be in traffic the next morning for another two hours. Hah! It may have been that, but it was also because he was hanging out with people at the bar, going boating in the marina and committing adultery.

There are no words. Strike that, yes there are, I just choose to keep this G-rated as much as possible. In a way, I kinda feel like my G-Rated life has been catapulted into a XXX rated one. (Not that I've ever even seen one.) It's just all so disturbing. I'm in a parallel universe of complete deception and filth.

Ugh. I've been really angry the last few days. And I don't want to be. I just want to be happy. Content.

We see the family counselor tomorrow morning and while I am going there with the desire to save my marriage, I just cannot see how it will happen. It seems too impossible. Trust and love have been completely annihilated. And I mean, ANNIHILATED. Unless it magically and miraculously rises like a phoenix from the ashes, I just don't see how it can possibly be put back together. Say we do piece it back together, say at the end of one year I decide to stay. Have you ever tried to hot glue a ceramic figurine back together? You see every crack and fissure, hot glue bubbling and oozing and hardening all over it so in the end it just looks like crap. It LOOKS pieced together. Who would want that?! Who?!

But I've promised to give it a year. And though I have no idea what's waiting for us down our road, I'm trying to see this year as MY year. I have a year to get an internship and relearn my trade. I have a year to create my own life dependent from my husband. I have a year to find myself and choose happiness hopefully. I have one year.

And then I decide. But today, I'm listening to the rain and getting out Christmas.

Love,
AnneGirl