He's Back

After almost four months of sleeping separately, I invited Simon to sleep in our bed again. 

Just for sleep, mind you. And our three year old is in between us. 

Simon thanked me for letting him back in and I think I just nodded my head like, "Sure." It was more that I felt ready to tolerate his presence in my bed: my safe place. The place where I cry and kneel to pray. 

I've felt good about him being in there with me. ( even though I had gotten very used to having the bed all to myself!) And having my son with us makes me feel emotionally safer to. 

I bought my ticket to Togetherness today. And in the registration, I was asked to write down what my main question is that I'm hoping will be answered at the convention. This is what I wrote:

How can I feel comfortable and adequate in the bedroom again?

I think you get what I'm asking. And truth be told, I shouldn't have put in the word "again." Because I've NEVER felt comfortable or adequate in the bedroom. I always knew something was amiss with our intimacy and its frequency. 

Having Simon back in my bed--even just for sleeping--has brought up those insecurities again. And I hate it! Because I KNOW nothing's wrong with ME in that situation. The issues were never about me. But I still stress. 

For now, I'm taking my sweet time. And Simon has not pressured me once for which I am grateful. 

So if anyone is sitting in Togetherness and hears this question brought up--you might just see AnneGirl with her arms in the air praising God. Ha! 

Who is going to Togetherness? 

ARP Dates

Simon and I have been on more dates in the last three weeks than in the last three years of our marriage. We went rock climbing, ate sushi, played board games, had a Valentine's dinner with our ward and made a date night out of ARP. 

They were all fun. And we are learning to reconnect. Investing time in each other is nice and new.

Victoria (A Battle Worth Winning) was the one to suggest that our ARP nights be special date nights. Before, we would drive to the church, go to our separate meetings and then drive back home. We always had good conversations afterward. However, I really took Victoria's advice to heart and tried to make it special.

I wanted to convey to Simon that I wasn't going to ARP BECAUSE of him, but I was choosing to go WITH him. I shifted my thinking and attitude. I suggested we go out to dinner beforehand and try someplace new. It was awesome. I'm always a happy girl with a belly full of fish tacos. Our conversation was happy and hopeful and we shared a brownie on our way to the church. 

My meeting was great in that I felt useful. There was a new woman--who I know a little and is my age--and I watched her bawl and bawl. I'm not far into recovery, but I had enough tools and experience under my belt to share my hope and healing with her. Seeing her--and that traumatic state--reminded me of just how far I really have come. That trauma was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. Seeing my fellow sisters experience it is brutal. If there is an upside to all of this, it's the level of compassion I have been able to find and hopefully extend meaningfully.

Despite the tear-filled night, Simon and I were able to meet back up and drive home holding hands and talk with real vulnerability.

The talks we have after therapy/ARP are my favorite. We are each in such an open, vulnerable, honest place and I feel closest to him during those talks. Simon--who has not been super jazzed over our particular group--was so upbeat and positive afterwards. He felt lighter and more hopeful. And though it's terrible that there were more new people that particular night--he felt happy knowing he was not alone and that other men were seeking help.

My heart soars when I hear him talk about his recovery efforts. I wish therapy and support groups could happen every day.

But they don't. Some days aren't stellar. Some days are simply awful. And others are very happy. Triggers and trauma resurface. Trust is still lying in pieces on the floor. But hope seems to be a little more visible. It's one step forward, two steps back.

But at least we aren't standing still. One day at a time. Sometimes one hour at a time.

Tomorrow I Turn 29

Tomorrow I turn 29. The last year of my twenties. Next year, I'm 30. And I could be divorced. 30 AND divorced. That could majorly be a suck-tastic year for me. 

I can't seem to push "divorce" out of my head. But I'm feeling so done. I feel increasingly more angry as my husbands actions sink deeper into my heart. And I'm left screaming on the inside, "WHAT THE HELL!!!" 

I mean, seriously. What was he thinking?! He wasn't, obviously. He didn't care about anything but the "fix." 

Sometimes I just sit in shock and disbelief. And lately disgust. 

The cycle of my emotions has been really interesting. It really is "crazy making" as my therapist says. So many emotions, so little time. 

But disgust--repulsion, has really settled in. I'm just so disgusted. Disgusted at what he's done. Disgusted at it's effects for me and my children. Disgusted that I was so oblivious. Disgusted that I'm still married to this man who doesn't even seem to care about me. 

I read in Rhyll's book that she told her therapist, "I feel like my husband doesn't love me." To which he responded, "He doesn't! He can't!"

I told my sponsor that I was feeling similarly. I have no romantic love for my husband. She said, "Of course you can't! The betrayal has been too extreme! He can't love you in his addiction. And you can't love him in your trauma. At least not romantically."

It was seriously profound to hear that. I felt like I was given permission to NOT love my husband. Because I simply can't. There is no room for romantic love. It was such a relief!

I do love him. But it's a concerned brotherly love. I'm worried about him. I know sexual addiction can't make him happy. But I have no desire to kiss him or be intimate with him. No desire to plan out a future with him. Nothing. Suddenly, I've become the sexual/intimacy anorexic in this relationship. 

As I've given myself permission to NOT love my husband, I've really discovered how forceful I was being with myself. I thought that to truly forgive him I had to truly and romantically love him. I thought forgiveness meant I was madly in love with him and would do everything in my power to stay with him. I thought that's what a successful recovery looked like. What was expected. I was forcing myself to stay. I was forcing myself to love. I was forcing my marriage to stay together. 

Force is the same as control. It's unhealthy. I've had to accept that recovery can be successful and a marriage still fail. I really believe that. But I don't hear much on that scenario. 

Sometimes the betrayal is just SO deep to make a marriage work. Sometimes it's just too much and there's no going back. I guess I really just don't want to make it work. I've done nothing but be true to my covenants. I've done nothing but support my husband. What more can I do? 

I don't like to fail at anything. I don't fail. I succeed. But I don't want to "succeed" in keeping my marriage together and be miserable the rest of my life. That's not succeeding. That's a tragedy. 

Simon isn't a monster. He is a good man deep down. I saw it in him those first couple years we were married. I think. But his actions have been monstrous. Atrocious. Disgusting. I just can't dealt with it! I don't know how. 

Simon IS improving. But I don't see it as recovery. I haven't seen those behaviors yet that tell me he's 100% on board. I don't know if he's willing to do what's expected of him. He wants to do recovery "his own way." And that spells disaster. It's a ticking time bomb. J

I'm not getting divorced tomorrow. But I feel like it's coming. We live parallel lives. I work my recovery and hope he's working his. But I've learned to not have expectations. 

I just want it over sometimes. I almost want him to act out with someone again, just so I can have an "out." Just be done. Just move on. Just not see him and be reminded of everything he's damaged and all the trust and love he's dashed to pieces. He's such a fool to have thrown us away. 

In many ways, I am happy. But a righteous husband for my birthday would really be the best gift I could dream of. I literally dream of being married to a righteous man. It's all I want. It's what I deserve. It's what I need. 

But again, that's setting up an expectation. 

Here's what I can expect tomorrow. I'll turn 29. And it will be bittersweet.