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. 

Satan Hates Date Night

"I can't help flying up on the wings of anticipation. It's as glorious as soaring through a sunset...almost pays for the thud." -L.M. Montgomery

I wrote the following on my Instagram account Friday: 

Simon is taking me out on a date tonight. GASP. The first since discovery and honestly it feels like our first date ever. It's my first date with new and sober Simon. Hopefully, a man who's working on a complete change of heart. It's our first attempt at falling back in love. We may crash and burn. But we may be at the start of something beautiful. A lot of "what ifs" but a lot of potential. Whatever happens tonight I deserve dessert. 

And crash and burn we did. Major THUD! And it all happened before the date even started: 

I stood there curling my hair for the date with my kids crawling and playing at my ankles when Simon texted me. He asked what time the babysitter should get there. 

Me: "5:45/6ish."

Simon: "Ok. I should be home by then."

I looked up Simon's location to see how far away he was. It was 5pm. His location showed him parked in a grocery parking lot...five minutes from our house. 

That pounding lump of adrenaline I get when I'm being lied to, came full force. But I played it cool. 

Me: "Is traffic bad?"

Simon: "No thank heavens."

I was pissed. But I always give a second chance to be honest and come clean--or maybe I kinda like to see him dig that hole and see how far he'll go. To watch the train wreck pile up in a blazing heap. 

Me: "So where are you at on the freeway?"

Me: after a few minutes: "?"

Simon: "On the phone."

Me: "With who?"

Me: after another few minutes: "?"

Simon: "Customer escalation. Freeway was quick. Almost home."

Me: "Consider our date canceled."

I had no idea what Simon was really doing in that parking lot and I didn't care. The fact was I was being LIED TO AGAIN. 

I immediately called the babysitter and canceled. Simon could watch the kids and I would go out on my own. I was all dressed up and looked pretty for heavens sake! I wasn't going to waste my night. 

Simon came through the door looking confused. I stomped around the house accusing and cleaning (it's how I channel my anger--I get a lot done when I'm angry, fortunately.) He sat on the bed while I told him I knew he had lied. He gave excuses, saying he had to jump on a conference call for work quickly and had just pulled into the parking lot to focus. So why lie? Why say you're on the freeway? Why not write "in the grocery parking lot"? Why say it was a customer escalation when it was a conference call? Why the need to lie about your whereabouts? Why lie about the most stupid details of your life? Nothing an addict tries to explain makes sense. 

Simon apologized. Like so many times before he admitted, I don't know why I lie. 

He's lied for so long, it's simply a habit. The lies roll off his tongue about everything and anything. It's maddening. 

Simon suggested I go out anyways and he'd watch the kids. I exploded, "But I wanted to go out with YOU! Why do you have to ruin everything!" 

He didn't say anything. I furiously continued to clean and organize. As my thoughts boiled in my brain, I remarkably thought of the temple. And I remembered the old adage of "Satan will do everything in his power to keep you and your husband from attending the temple. Don't let anything stand in your way" (or something like that.) 

Looking back, every time I wanted to attend the temple, something would invariably come up: the keys would be lost, a reccommend was expired, traffic was bad, we'd have an argument--there was always something trying to prevent me from getting there. I think Satan knows that a couple that attends the temple together draws closer to one another and to The Lord. Their marriage is strengthened. And he does not want that. 

Simon and I weren't trying to go to the temple (because he can't), but we were attempting to strengthen our marriage. And Satan does not want that. He thinks he has my marriage and family tightly in his grasp and the last thing he wants is for us to loosen his hold on us. 

Lightbulb: Satan hates date night. And he is laughing at us. 

In an instant, I was yelling at Simon to get ready now, get the kids in the car, we were taking them to my aunts house, hurry up, we are going on that date if it kills us! 

He obeyed. And we were off. We didn't speak a word. I was still pissed but I was not going to give Satan the satisfaction. He does not win with me. Ever. 

When we finally pulled into the restaurant, I was ready to just jump right out. But I looked over at Simon and saw the remorse in his eyes. So I waited while he hung his head low. He fumbled with the keys a bit and then finally murmured a soft "I'm so sorry." He couldn't meet my gaze. 

I let him explain his side of the story. And it all checked out--as far as I know. But he had still lied. Once again, I had to explain how lying was a HUGE trigger for me. When he lies, I have no choice but to believe that he acted out in some way. I told him, YOU MUST VIEW EVERY SITUATION FROM MY PERSPECTIVE. Once again, I had to explain that any lie, no matter how small, was BIG to me. 

I actually thought he might cry. But he kept it in. It's ok. I feel like he's learning. Baby steps. 

So, MIRACULOUSLY, we went to dinner and actually had that date that Satan tried to thwart. We ate a ton. Really, way too much. We talked and laughed and sometimes we just sat and stared. But it was nice all things considered. I tried to stay and live in the moment and let everything else fall by the wayside. I wasn't perfect, but I chose to be happy at that table in Red Lobster and see the man opposite of me as someone worth loving and letting myself fall in love with again. 

We had crashed and burned. But we picked up our bloody carcasses and went to dinner anyways. It was a good bandaid. Let's hope it sticks until we can get another. 

Feel to Heal

So I think I should change my name from Anne Girl to Negative Nancy. Am I right? Holy Hannah I've been so negative lately. I was actually really getting down on myself about it the other day, ya know, shaming myself, telling myself to get a grip already! But my sponsor has repeatedly advised, You can't heal what you can't feel. In other words, you can't skirt around the pain-- you've gotta go right smack through the middle of it. It's like driving through the middle of Kansas, it totally sucks but it's the quickest way through to the other side. 

So feeling is OK. In fact, it's necessary. It's imperative! Because through pain I am refined and strengthened and prepared to heal. I have been victimized. But I WILL heal, dammit. And I will no longer be a victim defined by an ugly past that isn't really mine in the first place. 

You can't heal what you can't feel. I love it. 

So here are some raw emotions on being IN LOVE. And hopefully some healing comes on the other side of these words. 

My last post was really emotional for me. Pretty much devastating to write. I silently cried through most of it. Because the message I had received from Simon was that he flat out had no passion for me and had found it elsewhere. And the justification was that we weren't "in love" anymore and hadn't been for some time. 

I think it really rattled the both of us. And the next day we were extra nice to each other. It seemed we were both under an unspoken contract to TRY to be in love. I wrote him a little note and put it in his briefcase. He was extra helpful and kind and complimentary. 

A couple days later, I woke up on our lazy boy. I had accidentally slept there all night. Simon was kneeling there and had gently woken me up. He wanted to talk about my night (I had gone to play volleyball and when I came back everyone was asleep). It was actually very sweet. He was really trying to see me and know me. 

I was feeling loved and cared just a smidge (which is more than in the last few months) and so I suddenly felt comfortable letting him know how hurt I was over the "not in love" conversation. I told him I felt like he was trying to minimize what he'd done with the excuse of "well I wasn't in love anymore so what does it matter?" 

He apologized that he had made it seem that way and emphatically told me that he WANTS to be in love with me and he knows that the "not in love" feeling was all his fault and a direct result of the addiction. I cried. He WANTS to be in love with me. 

He continued to tell me that as he serves me and thinks about my needs his passion for me has been growing stronger. I cried at that too. He WANTS me. 

I know I'm responsible for my own happiness. I know that I don't need someone to complete me. I know all that. But I do know that I like having a husband who wants me. It's just plain nice. And it shouldn't just be a perk that you get some of the time in a marriage. It should be a constant. It should be. 

I told Simon I wanted to be in love with him too. It's the truth. I do. I hate that I do sometimes, but dagnabbit I do. 

And then he let me do something grand. He let me punch him in the face. He was scared of course and asked that I not break his nose, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to even if I tried. I'm kinda weak in the muscle department and I didn't exactly have enough rage at the moment to really follow through. 

So I punched him in the cheekbone. (Aka lightly punched/smacked.) It was awesome. I did it a couple more times. When his jaw was getting a little sore, I stopped. We both kinda smiled because the situation was just funny: Simon cowering trying to not reflexively defend my punches while I aimed for his face with my weak-sauce jabs. Seriously though, it was very therapeutic. 

I told Simon I had a new boundary. I get to punch him in the face everyday. After all, you can't heal what you can't feel. 

He said no. Though I think it's totally justifiable. 

Under Water

The rage and injustice have been steadily and increasingly bubbling over as disclosure has really sunk in this week. The injustice is extreme. There have been several women spanning over the last 6 or so years. Did you hear that? Several. 

My triggers have been increasing in breadth and frequency. They are everywhere: in thoughts, in feelings, in words, in places, in situations, in songs (sadly, Carrie Underwood has now been banished from my life), in tv shows (but I refuse to give up Downton Abbey) in people, in church, in facial expressions. I even dream triggers, for heaven's sake! 

I had a particularly painful trigger in therapy last night. Read on. 

So, Simon and I started a 4 week couples workshop with our therapist with the goal that husbands would better understand and be equipped to help their wives with soothing the betrayal trauma when triggers strike. I was so excited. I love reaching out to other women who've suffered as I have. Comraderie and support in this hell is crucial for me. Isolation is not an option for me. I refuse. 

I was also so excited and anxious for Simon to finally learn how to help me! I feel like I silently scream for it daily in some form or other: Help me! Please! Some days he does. Other days I feel neglected all over again. 

So, I got triggered during the first 10 minutes of us sitting there on my therapists sunken down, burgundy striped couch. The other two husbands introduced themselves and their wives. And in some way they each complimented their wives. Nothing big. But they looked at their wives, spoke softly, and seemed so genuine and tender in their words. Thanking them for being there and supporting them. 

Simon introduced us next. It was rehearsed. Without feeling. Void of vulnerability and love. He said the words "we" and "us" but it was like I wasn't there. Not really. I was just a person on a burgundy couch that he wouldn't make eye contact with. I'm just there, so he's obligated to mention me. 

I felt humiliated and unloved. And that triggered the most embarrassing moment of my married life. 

Months ago, Simon and I were asked to speak in sacrament meeting at our new ward. (On the timeline of his addiction, this is about the exact time that he had met with "the other woman" and started their 6 month affair. I'm fairly certain they had become intimate already.) 

So I give my talk and then sit down. Simon's turn. He always starts with a joke. But he started by telling a little about our family and then described how long we've been married. He said, "We've been married almost 8 years, but it feels like 8 minutes...under water."

My heart just completely stopped. 

Every eye in the ward turned to me. I could feel their pity! What did he just say? How could a husband say that? Why would he say that? And I had to sit up there facing these strangers all while my husband, the man that is supposed to build me up, made me the butt of a joke. I was humiliated. Utterly devastated. And I couldn't run. I had to sit there and pretend I wasn't phased by it. All my energy went into silently pushing down the urge to sob behind the podium. 

Why would he say that. 

In hindsight, it's because Simon resented me. Why else would you make that comment? He says he doesn't resent me and that it was a stupid, thoughtless comment. But there's truth in every sarcasm. The truth is he'd started seeing some other woman. And in his addict mind at the time, she was perfection and I was a living hell. I was "drowning" him. So yeah, I'd say that "joke" was dripping fatty drops of resentment. 

All that humiliation poured over my head, spilling onto that burgundy couch last night. I was dying inside. And I couldn't run this time either. 

Ironically, at the end of the session the therapist asked if anyone had been triggered at all. I was the only one to answer yes. He asked me if I'd like to share. 

I had tried to be so vulnerable and honest and open during the session, but as I opened my mouth to share my trigger I just couldn't. I took a moment and told him I couldn't, I wasn't comfortable and would have to speak with Simon privately about it first. SHAME wouldn't let me speak. 

The therapist told me that he actually loved that response. He wanted me to feel safe and comfortable. 

Thinking on it, the real source of the SHAME is that the trigger had nothing to do with the acting out. It was simply about Simon as a person. These other two husbands love their wives. And I feel like my husband doesn't love his. The SHAME is that I am unloved. 

The therapist made it a point to tell Simon to really prepare to listen to me and soothe me. He wanted us to talk to one another in the car before we left the parking lot. 

Once in the car, we talked for about 20 minutes. But Simon did all the talking. And it wasn't about me and my trigger. It was about how anxious and uncomfortable he had felt during the session. How angry he was starting to feel at the church for excommunicating him. How he felt shunned (even though everyone that knows has been so loving towards him.) 

I let him talk about his feelings, because he rarely does. I put my own pain on the shelf. And then we drove home in separate cars to relieve the babysitter. 

Jimmy heard me come home and wouldn't go back to sleep unless I lay in bed with him. I fell asleep and I've been waking up every couple hours now ruminating in these feelings. Feeling so...empty. I guess I've tried to fill that emptiness with words. It's like if I fill enough pages with all the hurt I feel then maybe one day I can hand Simon an encyclopedia called "Knowing Anne Intimately." 

Maybe then he'll get it. Maybe then he will SEE ME. 

I heard a great description of the word "intimacy." If you say the word slowly it becomes "into-me-see." Right now, Simon cant see inside of me. He is incapable of it. And the terrible truth is that maybe I don't want him to. 

Even in recovery, even if he's eradicated the addiction from his life, I don't know if he's someone I want to be with. 

I don't know if I want him. And I don't know if he really wants me either. We don't even know each other. 

My marriage has been 8 minutes under water. I just want to breathe. 

Baptism

As I was organizing Primary assignments for this Sunday, Jimmy came over to me and looked through my binder. He found the new Sharing Time manual and exclaimed, "That's Jesus!" He was pointing out the picture that depicts Christ's baptism. 

I asked him what was happening in the picture. He said with such excitement, "He's getting baptized! I'M gonna get baptized!" It was the sweetest and most heartfelt declaration. 

I felt so impressed in that moment to tell Jimmy something. I said, "You're right! And you know who else is going to get baptized?! Daddy!"

Jimmy whispered back, "Yeah!" His expression was that of, "Really?! Wow. Yeah that's cool."

I told Simon about the conversation this morning before he left for work. Simon had just uttered a very sincere prayer. As we knelt and he poured his heart into talking with Heavenly Father and expressed his hope and desire to once again hold membership in the church, I felt he needed to hear what Jimmy had said. 

So I told him. And Simon's eyes filled with tears. 

I never imagined that I would get to see my husband be baptized. Or that my children would see their father be baptized as a grown man. But how incredible. 

Jimmy will--hopefully in a year or so--see his daddy enter the waters of baptism. He will see firsthand the cleansing power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. He will see his daddy living the gospel and accepting Jesus Christ. 

THAT is a powerful example. Being baptized again holds no embarrassment for me. It is truly a gift. It is amazing. And I saw that hope in Simon's eyes.