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.